A horse of course my race course,
Is just this little space.
I am as imaginary as the gods,
If you're wondering in case.
I smoke a lot shit in a pot,
I can't wear any pants.
The keeper is a hindoo priest,
He's into gibberish chants.
Holy he thinks, but his ass stinks,
As bad as any of the mares.
He's sort of perverted I think,
When I shit he stares.
In air I sail I swish my tail,
I get bets in calcutta, city of joy.
Mostly people who've got time,
Nefarious nitwits in search of ploy.
So I dance, I prance, in a weedy trance,
The humans are stupid holy shit.
Their gods sick farts, folly on a trolley,
That in their heads don't fit.
