THE ACID AROUND ME SO OUTAHAND! Leary shouldn'a spread it around like ruthlessly. Of course your fuckin' Hell's Apes R gonna take anything like that like a brutish challenge and munch on hard handfuls and smear it on grizzly faces!
If someone else says Beale Street to me I'd whoop his ass if I weren't wearing my freshest suit! It's a weird enough vibe so I'm glad I brought it with me.
Something most primal, sublime sending nudies to slaughter like lambs. Hippies without brains (of their own, they'd say, having tapped into some collective consciousness) getting battered at the edge of the stage, and going back for more. Fuckin' cold, too. An Angel inquires: 'Zis a wig? Inquires with a graceful sweep of his stick. Bludgeons my chest for bumping his bike. He knows it's natural. He's gripped it in leathery folded wings. I don't have colors 'cause I'm a colored. Every time a bell rings an Angel takes a swing.
That pool cue suits you most elegantly. I am grateful, allaw me ta introduce it mos'intimately. He tells me in Spanish he's going to introducir his cue, and reflexly I gesture I'll pass, contending 'twould be better to defer its acquaintance and Mick's 'til a time less electric. Angel sights my eye with an unimaginary line. A trembling segment. For full seconds I could push to his own cue ball, negative of the portentous 8, except cracked red, but of course the moment of pleasure'd be followed by a flock of dark angels descending. There's no power 'gainst their legion. Again, I can't tell why I'm speaking so eloquently, baroquely; verbiage is mine most liquidly, I ooze it, nay, drip it like the poppy's balm! But could it be some of that acid's made it's way to me. . .? The atmosphere so generally permeated 'twould be a wonder 2've escaped the toxin. But might I just be near 2 die?
If so, my last wish would B 2 C Carol 1 more time.