Steep Angles

STEEP ANGLES the black boys on mopeds well, now they ride dirt bikes whip ‘em east over north ave. in the middle of the night they don’t give a damn who’s in the graveyard, they wanna pick at the wound steep angles on the back wheels yeah, they make street lamps swoon steep angles on the back wheels under a waning moon black eyed susans don’t last long however they form round Booth’s headstone I need a good once over of those who confide in me, “The whole goddamned mess was over the economy, man.” the black boys on mopeds well, they’ve mastered dirt bikes whip ‘em east over North Ave. wake me up in the night I don’t give a damn who’s in the graveyard I wanna pick at the wound steep angles on the back wheels make street lamps swoon steep angles on the back wheels serenade John Booth