Lazy flies all hovering above
  the magistrate, he puts on his gloves
  and he looks to the clouds
  all pink and disheveled
  there must be some blueprints,
  some creed of the devil
  inscribed in our minds
  a hideous game
  vanishes in thin air
  the vanity of slaves
  who wants to be there?
  to sweep the debris
  to harness dead-horses
  to ride in the sun
  a life of confessions
  written in the dust
  out in the mangroves
  the mynah birds cry
  in the shadows of sulphur
  the trawlers drift by
  they're chewing dried meat
  house of disrepute
  the dust of opiates
  and syphilis patients
  on brochure vacations
  fear has a glare that traps you
  like searchlights
  the puritans stare
  their souls are fluoresecent
  the skin of a robot
  vibrates with pleasure
  matrons and gigolos
  carouse in the parlor
  their hand-grenade eyes
  invalid and blind
  
  vanishes in thin air
  the vanity of slaves
  who wants to be there?
  to sweep the debris
  to harness dead-horses
  to ride in the sun
  a life of confessions
  written in the dust