Beneath
Beneath
Bukowski on the skids
Poe plagued by doubt and memory
The Horsemen riding bareback
On the road to Calvary
They know there are no saints
Nor devils in the dust
Just signposts to ignore
Pointing to the dusk
Iconoclastic cookbooks
Cooking up a storm
Yes, the writing is on the wall
But it’s all in cuneiform
And they know there are no wonders
Nor miracles to behold
Just magicians tricks
And the news that’s bought and sold
Don’t look beneath
Don’t look beneath
It is ugly, ancient and cold
Lucan on the run still
But he’s no Screaming Lord Sutch
Anyway, here comes Richard Branson
To take us all to lunch
You know there are no saints
Nor devils in the dust
Just signposts to ignore
All pointing to the dusk
And they know there are no wonders
Nor miracles to behold
Just magicians tricks
And the news that’s bought and sold
Don’t look beneath
Don’t look beneath
It is ugly, ancient and cold
