wash it off!

You live forever

Then you die

In the heat of the now

At the zenith of the sky

In heaven or Bingley

There’s no need to try

The bondage of self

Enforces ones reason

And deposes the mind

We’ll be gone like the seasons

It’s ciao-ciao to your ‘I’

The same I who used to wear

women’s clothes and make-up

Panties tights and bra – 
oo ah, ya! - It was I

Now I can’t even bare

To be seen in turquoise headphones

a purple powderpuff effeminate car

makes me want to cry

I’ve only got one song it seems

It’s the one I keep on my phone

It’s wide as a grape

And deep as a fountain of peas

But anyway it isn’t my own

My haircut’s kinda random

They say it makes me look like Jesus

Maybe that betrays too much about who I am

But I can’t abide too much neatness

Not in a son of man

Cleanliness is next to oddliness

It denudes your skin of friendly oils

Which live in flux

And feed sunshine and vitamins yum yum
giving a saucy wink of shiney eyes

To your vital mitochondria

Sullying the skin we despise which  

Teaches us to be us sized

Until they wash it off-a-ya!