tiny tastemakers and sandcastle kings living in grand houses, stained glass from broken dreams they run the numbers and the racket all over town from the waterfront to the whore house, at the dog tracks they move the White & the Brown they've got it locked down, there's nowhere else to go see the sad houses there at the foot of the hill they used to stand in someone's sunshine, now they lean in weeds and remember all up the pavement in single file, see the shuffling bereavement of the L.S. Lowry people they float about in their tatterdemalion nests bundled up together, in bleak with tired regret pay the gatekeeper push your nose right up to the gate see the on-trend go-betweeners, playlisting the latest hot-takes sick psychic vampires waiting for the product to come i've been working at the blood bank, submitting my heart on a pump running in circles, chasing my tail for a taste still taking it personal, in a fish-bowl with a million else here comes The Governer with his industry insider chic he's a haircut full of buzz-words, like a fly around shit his lips let slip what his eyes deny he condescends but never lightly often when beaten he'll lessen the ploy like a wolf playing dead - like Ali did red rag to my bullish interior red rag! red rag! see the men in the middle, pushing paper and closing the deal see the fly land on the flower to no avail fucking bottom-feeders, end of the alphabet males girls in white adidas with rainbow-painted nails tiny tastemakers and sandcastle kings living in, living in, living in glass houses