he's a WHAT? he's a WHAT?   he's a newspaper man   and he gets his best ideas   from a newspaper stand;   from his boots to his pants   to his comments and his rants   he knows that any little article will do!      though he expresses some confusion   bout his part in the plan,   and he can't understand   that he's not in command;   the decisions underwritten   by the cash in his hand   bought a sweater for   his weimariner too      now i'm no mad man,   but that's insanity   feast before famine,   and more before family   goes and shows up with   more bowls and more   cups and the riot for the   last hot meal erupts   corrupts his hard drive   through the leanest months   shells out the hard cash   for the sickest stunts;   on aftershave, on gasoline   he flips the page and turns   the scene      in my mind i'm drowning butterflies   broken dreams and alibis;   that's fine.   i've seen my palette blown   to monochrome-   hollow heart   clicks hollowtone,   it's time.      eye on authority,   thumb prints a forgery   boy, ain't it crazy what the   lights can do   for counterfeit community;   every opportunity   wasted as the space   between the flash tattoo      and the half-hearted hologram,   posed for the party   now he gloss full bleed   on a deaf dumb tree   cod liver dollar signs,   credit card autograph   down for the record   but not for freedom      angry young mannequin   american, apparently   still to the rhythm   better get to the back of me   can't stand the vision,   better tongue the anatomy   gold plated overhead,   blank transparency   in the days of old,   you were a nut   now you need three bumps   before you cut   not that i should care about,   nothing i ain't scared of, but   i guess you had   to   be   there.      in my mind i'm breeding butterflies,   broken dreams, and alibis   that's fine.   i've seen my palette   blown to monochrome   hollow heart   clicks hollowtone   in time.      i see you figured in your action pose   foam-injected axl rose,   life size   should something shake you   and you drop the news,   lord, just keep your dancing shoes   off mine