dig it man, me and my friends hang at this place called the
Warlock every night. Small Jazz club, sits on the corner of
57th and 8th. The city breeds these clubs and the hip that love
them. Not just the old or young hip, or the ones in between,
but every outsider blessed with perpetual knowledge and vision.
Most are dead, but even they still frequent the joint - they'll
come in some nights and join us. Some actually died in the Warlock
and that's cool man, I wouldn't mind that myself. Me and my
friends think we own the place, so why would we be afraid to
die where we've chosen to live? Smoke chokes inside the blue
lights, women of all kinds with men of all kinds. Don't mean
a shit to me. Never has, man. They're living something that
never bothers anyone. Locust, the barman, books the acts with
the same touch an artist can sense moods. Whether they're only
his moods doesn't matter. Out of that rich blue smoke I hear
the horns sing to me, man, and the bands are always 'on' and
cookin. The rest of the world lives outside, outside The Warlock
everywhere. The city's so thick with outsiders that I have a
hard time finding one-- if you can dig what I mean, where I'm
coming from. A few beers, some fine weed and cool sounds break
into us - and we're there with the ghosts at our table. We keep
a few empty chairs for them. Always, man, always.
night-the jazz owns me. The next night-a ghost tells a story
that won't split from my head. This one night it was Lois-she
worked as a waitress. Her night off was mine on, if you catch
me. I had a lot of chicks that hung in the Warlock, but the
available Lois was mine. Unwritten, with no shitty pretentious
plans, Lois and I could fly as though time meant nothing. No,
"Who was she," or "where you been" ever
hit an airwave between us. Straight down and open, Lois and
me. That's why it worked so well. Sitting on my lap or in the
chick's room puking, nothing changed our mental magnets. The
ghosts loved us together. I could feel it each time we pierced
each other, alone, at the end of the night.
get something straight. I'm telling you about the club where
I hang, about friends and my forever diggable Lois, but you
know nuthin man, you don't know shit about me. You're just shitbird
liberals out there, sheep in liberal's clothing. I know you
and I know that I'll never dig you, man. Never. You ever come
into the Warlock and the ghosts will kill you. Or they'll get
you to kill yourself. Either way's fine with me. You self-proclaimed
liberals don't stand for anything anymore. You don't smell,
breathe, or live it. You won't fight or stand up to anything
but your fucking editors! Go on, ass-holes, tell me I'm wrong
and that I'm one stupid cocksucker. Try and tell me that.
know, if it wasn't for Lois, I probably would have killed somebody
by now, but the sex is too good man. Our energy never stops
dreaming. If I had a dollar for every Lois in the world I'd
be four dollars richer. That's how I got it figured. Maybe four
more Lois's in the whole world, maybe. I wonder what the poor
people are doing.
chick loves me with her legs, ass, mouth, cunt and imagination.
Lois got the mind, man, she takes and makes the sex we have,
like other women cook for their families in spotless financial
kitchens. So what if sometimes she acts like a fucking freak.
You gonna tell her she's acting like one? Not me, she's my freak,
and she'll be my freak until she splits or vanishes. Runs away
with a ghost or something. Yeah…. if she leaves it'll be with
a ghost. I wouldn't do a thing about that. She knows em like
I do, and the ghosts got their memories of cocks and pussies
too, man, can't blame em for that. Can't go blamin a blues ghost
the Warlock, are disgusted liberals, jazz nuts and homos. Deviants
from every road traveled. Lois and I don't care. Our sex kitchen
is hers, man, whatever she says, whatever way she wants it.
She's a fuckin Donna Reed in black leather boots and a whip.
She can break my cock so it won't work for weeks, but I'll hold
back her hair when she's puking in the Warlock.
and I got this place we go called twilight. Twilight's between
me and her only. It's between so many things you fucks will
never understand. ~