MEGA BOYS
Oh yeah, they're all over the place now - those
big, sweaty guys with pumpernickle faces and
hand-held gout. Swinging bootstrap boots and
boxing gloves while they whistle the Marine Hymn
on a motorcycle-guitar drumkit. I don't know where
it all came from, but it started long ago : they drip like
shellac down an old, dried-out wallboard. They change
their oil on kit-cars from the lower domain. Weasel
and Wetzel, names like that; charmed in paint on the
flat sides of open doors. Eating plain bread from large,
open wrappers, discussing Cuban cigars while
hoping their dread will end by the morning
whilst running for home. Oh yeah,
those Mega-Boys do roam.
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