Breathing barnacles
I breathe velvet barnacles
A gift of music for the jester king
While the government is in a sad state
Of near-dementia
I show Kate her pancreas
A gift of words for a blind penguin
Where the cavemen, as of late
Fiddle catatonia
I drain another dream or two
A gift of lies for the man in blue
Whose policemen chop up Russians
For their pyromania
I shave dentist labourers
A gift of hurts from our home-grown flue
With cutting edges to surprise
Even the illiterate
Who cannot even read the
Time
To fight the power
I breathe velvet barnacles
And it hurts...