if i ain dead already it's cause i'm jive to get heady

so it's like one a.m. last nite and im kinda punked, ya know how a dude feels late at nite after a full day of mopin round the house in his undies. yeah, i been mopin cause i been feelin kind low and empty lately, feelin as tho im havin a kind of crisis of sorts, if you can put jelly on that. (i know you can put jelly on that, jinkydro69). so i wrap up this heady philosophy i been readin for my class, some shit pertainin to infinite regression or inifinite aggression or infinite stiffy or whatevs, and im all, you know what, i'm just goddam kicked right now, fried as fuck. so i lay myself down and do what i do, throwins onins some pbs public broadcast for the masses (im kind of in a Marxist communal spirit with all the mopery alienation jive attached, too) and i see some pictures. get this: those cardigan clydes in squaresville are actually beamin some hep dro across the airwaves for once. its the rollin stones rock n roll circus, c. 1968, involvin the who, marianne faithful, taj mahal, and john lennon's groovepiece of the time. bros from cream, the stones, j.h. experience, et al are putting the jelly on yer blues with the bro who sympathize with one of my plight cause he knows what it like to be dead. anyway, this band's calling theyself dirty mac. and im all, "shit. my gurl ain in town how im opposed to get hard to somethin like that?" ya know it's dirty but it ain wet, hahaha, that's all im gonna say. so it was fairly dro, tho i wish i had some east end sticky in my veins to get me soft. thats word, jinks, weez uh score somethin better than even that. we roll on into the mckees rocks and get green to some angeldust dipped tea, if you can spread jelly on what im toastin. i think, in the final analysis, that the differnce is that i ain gettin my dick off these days, an i feelin a big squeezums in my saucepocket.