Conduit for Sale!
Parceled a generous divorce sentence forthwith being:
Certain blocks of land are living quarters,
Tries quick escape gamut via local periodicals,
But no takers can lie on an unenviable station
In the conduit between two selves, a veritable no-man's land
Where Ray, the flophouse cardboard tarots and carbon monoxide wallpaper
All this big dick tree in a boy's ass?
(No one's gonna save me, no one's gonna make me rearrange)
Rents low-down scabhouse and conduit
(No one's gonna save me, no one's gonna make me rearrange)
I'm tryin', I'm tryin'....
Imagine if you will Herr Proctor,
alias a nobleman,
son of son of scion scion.
Part of his rich inheritance,
parcel in generous [divorced sense] forklift beam.
Certain plots of land and living quarters
deemed by all gentlemen, and wives thereof,
grossly humane and frankly, quite undirty.
I'm tryin', I'm tryin'....
Herr Proctor, in his enviable good taste,
tries quick escape gambit via local
periodicals, but no takers.
The land unenviably stationed in a conduit
between two cells, a veritable no-man's-land,
[rain, the flophouse, cog-bone terrors]
and carbon monoxide wallpaper.
All [his brig-deck trina] boys ask: is it livable?
I'm tryin', I'm tryin'....
Unable to bear the scandal, Ray, philanthropist,
rents low-down scab house in conduit,
Herr Proctor offers said land for a song,
but no one wants to sing.
In an attempt to maintain social privileges,
yet mask it as goodwill,
he says to the conduit members,
'Take this rotten old tree and make it bear fruit."
Cheers erupted throughout the [???] settlement.
An Italian male was heard to say,
"Between here and there
is better than either here or there!"
I'm tryin', I'm tryin'...
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