Franklin Bruno Shapeless Things
I can see the shapeless things to come
I can see the shapeless things to come
A trickle from the rusted pipes
A torn portfolio of pornographic monotypes
A haze descending over [?]
And I can see the shapeless things to come
The sky is black with burnt magnesium
The hit parade's a sixty-cycle hum
You work and drink and dance for now
But soon you'll know the worst
The smoke that hides the starry plow
Like petals from a burst chrysanthemum
And I can see the shapeless things
I can see the shapeless things to come
To come
To come
