Incubus riffs soaking her skin

Cold wet evening, plastered grin

Water drips down her mouth

A stiff figure facing south

The third song on her lips

In a boy’s dream she weeps

Guitar chords float in the air

Strange pallor on the face fair

Visions of stupendous grandeur

She makes a dash for her valour

Cuts back to insane languor

Three tunes she devours

Cross between a punk and prim

Cursed to carry the burden within

Doped in her fertile imagination

Blue smoke yellow butt sensation

Now she thinks of a Kubrick clone

Jack Sparrow’s ship lets out a moan

Willy Wonka chocolate freak

QT and his ‘violent streak’

Blue, white, slate and pink

Oh! she might just wink

Her eyes stare up at the roof

Incubus plays on, she doesn’t move….





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