Little Bo Sleep

There's a sugar cane negro that flexed amongst my beating stick
Looking back amongst a cornfield and cotton white mans prick
Upon a sabbath tied down morning breach from where we became
Delving deeper into the abyss amongst a hanging mans rope so lame.

There's a guitar humming solo amongst beer driven swamps
Fancy courstisans with a drying of education and gas burning lamps
Of a Picasso intrepidating volcanic level tsunami destruction
A fucked up lie. A bid to collide into the destruction of construction

No matter who the fuck you are, the fat Cuban beer bellied rum soaked pirate
The inconsequential captain driven flag waving pall bearer highlight
A driven cloud in a midnight mass lulling itself like sheep
Finding the flock of a lamb and little,  Bo Sleep.

Forgive me fleecing and enticing for the crowd of together
That heaven hope that constrictive boa constrictor
Only now my inebriated corpse driven multi coloured snitch
You never knew. You never kissed my ass, you son of a bitch.