The last thought that you think today   Has already happened   The link between profound and pain   Covers you like sherwin williams      The Smokey Joe is broken   Drops into your lap   And the big red wasp   Makes a scan through   My black pages      Last night, our boy was out there   Burning up his matches   I saw him in the afternoon   Sporting a black eye      The universal man   Holds a pistol or a bottle   Types with confidence   As we grow out of our bruises      Once, I had a friend   Who had the knack of   Tossing his mind around geography   Boy, you think you have problems?      The hunter is asleep   At least that's what I call him   In the afternoon   Of the new cobweb summer