If you dip in the ink of the drink in the sink
If you breathe in a world once held by Doc Seuss
then when asking me how I am, I may wink:
I’m as loose as a goose in a noose that broke loose.
I am flying as high in the sky as a pie
that got thrown from a throne by its owner: high flown!
If you hear what I’m saying today sans dismay
It’s that things are now looking foreverly playful.

I live a knife’s edge life, rife lacking strife
and partying artistically, particularly with heart.
I am craving a brave world, and waiving the grave trade,
doing daring deeds, drop d’name before d’cart.
When heroes are zeroes and Nero is naught
but barely a musician, living lonely in the land
then you might find a right mind, a light rind,
a tightened wind, to tune a piano into baby grand.

The nothing is everything, everything’s aught,
and all we can ask for is iggledypop.
But Iggledy-Pop happens to be my cousin
as well as the best thing offered at the shop
and the shop is a ship at the corner of worship
and worship is warning and warning means war.
All of this awfully weirdness means something
substantially more than you ever asked for…