Follow your nose

 



I thought I was going to a cowboy funeria
Until I got to a big building with strange symbols and a man In a full length heavy worsted overcoat asked me to get off my bici and show him my mans part
He said he needed to handle my credentialias
Well
Being a long way  from mio casa I thought to myself what's the bruto that can happen
Then I remember

The last time a bloke with beard and coat asked me that i was at a bus stop in Chadstone
And the polizia turned up
What is it about blokes in coats in estata anyway?

The blackamoors here have the vocce of angels
They strum lutes as the sit on the ponte and sing for poveri
(I wish I had never written that poem about giving my money to the poor
It has cost me all the gifts i planned)

The fish come to the surface during the refrain
I gave the singer a poem
He sang it
The women swooned
The men
They look at the arbori
and shift their feet

The lovers
They see the fishes
and they
whisper their
wishes

Can you hear me they say

Anyway
We shared the profits
The singer and I

I got drink money
He got tomorrow
His name is Fabian
He is the prince of the crossing of the bridge

He called me brother

I now have a tribal marking
I am sure that the cuts made by his seamstress with a sharp bone
will heal up nicely as soon as I can take the voodoo blessed chips of wood out of the delicate incisions
Blood is such a mesmerizing colour at sunset
Anyway

Then I go a genuine rustico enoteca for regional specialist mangiare
Some wogs can cook
Some wouldn't know a cacca from terra firma
But then again
I am in these shortsiosios

just loved the scrivegni
It is religious
Giotto a true genius that took the piss out of everyone
He is fabulous
The weeping women painting makes you
weep


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