Westie Can Drum - Pavement

Three o' three, the seconds they are sequins

And the minute string, raveled 'round the mannequin

Of formless space, a party line at last that we can

All embrace — and segue to the burning masses!

Ten to eleven, don’t question, just get in

I think that we are losing a way

Westie… You cannot drum!

Half past noon, visualize a centaur baying

At the moon, his profile is a silver circle

Brings to mind the portraits on the coinages and

Lincoln’s beard, and why’s he got a horse’s body?

(Griffin, a cruiser)

You’ll love her, you’ll lose her

I think that we are losing our way

Westie… You cannot drum!

Five-nineteen deluded like a Dixie-Crat

I don’t ya

Clog latrine, and clean it like a Dixie-Crat

And deck the halls with spirulina

Dry route to Devon

So great, like Heaven

I think that we are losing a way

Westie… You cannot drum!

No, Westie… You cannot drum!