I miss the drunk I miss the fiend

I miss the simplicity of addiction and the scene

I miss wandering aimlessly in half dead sewers

With rats for eyes chewing on forgiveness

And the will to apologize

I miss the return of no return

As I burn in avalanches of white snow and yellow cocaine

I miss talking to brick walls while following the grain

And human dolls as I plagiarize myself like a dummy

Stuffed with counterfeit money for Cairo and black honey

I miss illusions begging to be chased

Even as they disappear into me erased

Until there is no one or nothing but the chase

And a powdery ghost with no face or faith

And the woman of my dreams disappearing without grace

I miss the zoo

I miss the zoo

I miss the zoo

I miss evolving into a cloud of blue marijuana

Blown from the lips of hookers and pimps

As they shake each other down in alleys

For the dammed but mighty

No one but the weak around

And the beautiful unsightly

I miss numb Neanderthals marching in rows of living dead

From my wisdom teeth to Spain and back again in my head

I miss salvation in syringes and angels of mercy

In blooms of smoke numbing rain which drinks when thirsty

I miss glasses full of spirits

Who without tongues speak to me in Napoleon's wild nights

I miss staying up for days

And becoming a psychic pretzel flying kites

Chewed on by a Zulu heading with toads to Mars

A mysterious prison and one without bars

Miss those kind of bars

I miss the zoo

I miss the zoo

I miss the zoo

I miss waking in the arms of strangers like puppies

Just born in the pound

To a dead mother with eyes sealed shut

Looking for a tit to suck and other dangers

When the night

Before laughter was the only pursuit

Even as knives carved up our backs

And demons sat like Buddhas eating fruit

Meditating on hate forever in our minds

I miss exposing even my bones

And the need that rewinds

Even my burning home

Even my gutted inner child

Even my dead grandfather beneath the ground that's wild

Even my criminal family

Even my weedwacker thoughts

Whipping a thin plastic string

To cut the ears of others as I sing

I miss Van Gogh's revenge

I miss his nightly binge

I miss spiders surrounding my bed

And lifting me as if an effigy

Or a Dead King or a prophet of doom

A Jesus for the apocalypse wearing dirt like perfume

Or a mother for Satan or a ghost

For all the children of abuse

Taking me into the fire watching me burn like a goose

As they sing in spider voices

There goes creation there goes the moon

There goes the butterfly wanting a cocoon

I miss being a bloom and a goon

Waking up too soon in the afternoon

A doctor of regret

Hanging onto guitar strings in tune

And hanging by a belt wrapped

Around some pipe to nowhere and felt

My lips too wrapped around

What appears to be stained glass

As religious figures dress like rocks with class

Burn into gas to the center of my brain

The euphoria of dying and being born all at once

While wearing the hat that reads 'dunce'

I miss the zoo

I miss the zoo

I miss the zoo