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‘twas he who pricked with an awl - to live and shave in l.a. lyrics

smelly joe who was a, like, usurper
in the purchase of bits of ironmongery
mapped a sordid universe of “heels” and “tramps”
mentioned most often in surviving accounts
‘twas he who pr*cked with voltaic pile
so remote from the sphere of eroticism
“they don’t make cops of boys your age*“
took my cats to hear their ill*stration
and the upper three for the weaver’s side
between turkey*c*ck and female hide
they worshipped nature in the raw
one part to borrow books and one part “gal’s nuhves…”
the grinning gizmo and too hot for h*ll
‘twas he who pr*cked with feast days there
in the flame of dirty, blue, brutal jowls
‘twas he who pr*cked with timid awl…

returned to boil (and broken open)
remote from spheres, heavy emotions
‘twas he who pr*cked with grinning awl*
‘goin’ on cruel jolt, still a bachelor…”

- to live and shave in l a lyrics

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