(Don Van Vliet)
|
Are you with me on this, people?
|
|
The man with the woman head
|
Polynesian wallpaper made the face stand out,
|
a mixture of Oriental and early vaudeville jazz poofter,
|
forming a hard, beetle-like, triangular chin much like a praying mantis.
|
Smoky razor-cut, low on the ear neck profile.
|
The face the color of a nicotine-stained hand.
|
Dark circles collected under the wrinkled, folded eyes,
|
map-like from too much turquoise eyepaint.
|
He showed his old tongue through ill-fitting wooden teeth,
|
stained from too much opium, chipped from the years.
|
The feet, brown wrinkles above straw loafers.
|
A piece of cocoanut in a pink seashell caught the tongue and knotted into thin white strings.
|
Charcoal grey Eisenhower jacket zipped into a load of green ascot.
|
A coil of ashes collected on the white-on-yellow dacs.
|
Four slender bones with rings and nails endured the weight of a hard fast black rubber cigarette holder.
|
I could just make out Ace as he carried the tray and mouthed,
|
"You cheap son of a bitch" as a straw fell out of a Coke, cartwheeled into the gutter.
|
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,
|
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,
|
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood.
|
|
-----------------
|
Man With The Woman Head
|
| Frank Zappa |
