7854. WHILE BOILING THE COBBLESTONE STREETS

WHILE BOILING THE 

COBBLESTONE STREETS

In my dreams, I believe in the divine right 

of Kinks, and the high-hat timbres of the 

Who. Mr. Whipple goes squeezin' that

Charmin' again, and in the jungle the

mighty jungle the lion lies down with

the lamb. I am Metedaconk, the last man

standing, the fire in the palm of the hand.