Breakfast

[Female voice] Where are we? [Male voice] My master of the magician and black will see you now [Jam Baxter] In a café built high atop the edge of all morning Cream uncoiling in the coffee she's pouring Aromatic mind ground down to the granules Pebble dashed face like a cruel child's drawing The same preamble The old exit sign that glows green almost seems supernatural The phone rings she presses cancel And sinks backside to an anchor entangled Unless her dream steam rolls from stage fright Then he ain't gonna' fill the chair opposite and seem real Fate he sealed by the same logic That says "burn this whole place down for a free meal" Unless time pays for seven year ransom Disease ain't gonna spare one dead relative In that case the rums still on offer next door A discounted flush for a handful of sedatives With a facial expression that could paint the whole dead flooded scene on the back of any retina In two seconds Lips like a novel that's barely worth reading Eyes like abused tenants Oil covered seagulls rife in the squelch of quick muttered pleasantry The view outside was that long smashed down farm Buried in a year seven signs class memory I smiled She looked up once And mouthed the words "FUCK YOU" with all sincerity [Instrumental] [Male voice] My master of the magician and black will see you now [Jam Baxter] I guess he didn't see the menagerie of animals Flapping in the strobe lit cover to the left Or the tentacles creeping from the apron of the waitress Dipped in the grease tank Strangling the chef The tiny faced business man With a mug that demands every lost shred of laughter in the air With the mass like spit balls pasting his pale skin Leaving the white moss glued to the chair The child spewing acid in the sky like a lime green Las Vegas fountain The moneys on red The futures on black Wheel spinning in reverse The house wins your scalp Flies nest in the neck That frozen old man with the thick spittle waterfall drowning his eggs in saliva Salmon re-spawn in his mouth bare swipe at the hatch stains He wipes at his jaw like its minor The wall behind crumbles A man within a Hi-Vis impales every hard hatted goon on his tusk Leaving the city half built gaping up As vines crush cranes at the first ? of dusk That creamy eyed sloth, with loose skin befitting of an oversized gimp mask Rabbit holes hidden in the fold of his brow Lead to a cave where his devils all swing dance I saw it all over breakfast Opposite that pug-faced empress Sour little foul-mouthed temptress I paid up and walked out restless