He Ain't No Boy Scout, Mama

Into nothingness climbing a spiraling upstairs down case
within the void of darkness swallowing me whole
as the world creaks of pathetic souls

As I sip on gin and vermouth
On the devil's highway
And you give me a lap dance

Swimming in cesspools of their own frailties
contaminating my departure from oblivion  
of wilting flesh and egocentrics in the rat race     

But baby just shake that thing
And grind that wazoo
As I tuck a ten-spot in your thong

Now asking Obituarius for an atlas and pathway
crossing the horizon of the Fata Morgana
with a vampire's addiction for harmony

And it's last call for alcohol
As I pen you to wall
And I need a magnifying glass to read  
      
If only mom could see me now
but she is cooking in the tanning bed
before she is travels to Transylvania