Grass For Blades - Wigwam

Atomic man, embossed on hues of

Money greens that swell and ooze, will

Scratch his chin as if to muse that

All this winning meant to lose

Though he slaved and hate his dues

Here he was, no time to choose

A way to change and try to fuse him-

self into the way the queues around him

«Attack you fools!"the captain bawls

«I have your heads upon my walls!»

Rows of heroes crouch to crawls, bomb

Bamboo huts and village halls, smash

Ping-pong bats with cannon balls, as

Ali-Baba's sheiks and sauls

Debag Goliath as he falls

While the Statue Of Liberty climbs and mauls everything

«Champagne for the heroe whore

And watch your step in all that gore

But not too much, he’ll scream for more»

El pres.

advices from the door

«For though he’s filled from skin to core

It’s not enough he’ll whine for sure, so

Say it’s we who keep the score, and

nail him back upon the floor, yeh»

So there he works, still at large

Behind his smiles and his camouflage

Of nice white coats and college grades that

Hide blue suits with golden braids

And though I hope the smell just fades

It does not go but leads to raids on

Bamboo huts in country glades

Where the people use the grass for blades, ain’t that something