I've tasted hunger, felt the tooth
Saw spectral figures from my youth
In dreams, then I awoke
Kids, don't smoke
I don't need to slash the night
To violate it with my light
The moon's already made its stroke
Kids, don't smoke
Someone’s here. I start to bark
In the quiet of the dark
A warning, challenge or a joke?
Kids, don’t smoke
Through the darkness and the thickness
I’ve felt the coming of the sickness
Sticky as a rum & coke
Kids, don’t smoke
Tree of Liberty
There is a place where the stream runs deep
A place where children safely sleep
A place where love has set its roots
And puts forth many worthy fruits
A place that hatred can’t control
A place of refuge for the soul
That’s where you lived, through love and pain
And we shall see you once again
Upon your boat or at the wheel
Exploring what is truly real
For you pursued reality
In its essentiality
And now the path on which you go
Is one that we shall tread also
There is a place for those who love
Whose hearts and minds are true and free
They stand with eyes that gaze above
Beneath the Tree of Liberty
Like Jolly Chimp, Monkey's psycho-adventures continue.
Bosse-de-Nage était un singe papillon, moins cyno-qu'hydrocéphale, et moins intelligent, pour cette tare, que ses pareils...<<Ha ha>>, disait-il en français, et il n'ajoutait rien davantage.
--Alfred Jarry, Gestes et opinion du docteur Faustroll, pataphysicien
