Records and dust ropes and paintings, bought at an auction piled so high. Chickens in the yard resting on the antiques, fighting like sailors, telling those lies. Estate sale painting going for five bucks, trade your pant-leg for your hat. Catch of the day is a teeny-weeny catfish, just ain’t nothing new about that. Mr. Shorty! Mr. Shorty! Mr. Shorty! Watching every move that I make, make, make, make.

Beggarweed dancing, sliding, and amazing. Me to the center, no rest for the tired. Mouth of the Lord side of the highway, singing and a preaching to the city of cars.

Scar-necked sailor said he “wants to kill a black man, kill him for his color, make the razor sing”, scar-necked sailor bleeding on the pavement throat wide open, don’t need another drink, drink! Mr. Shorty! Mr. Shorty! Mr. Shorty! Throat wide open, don’t need another drink, drink!