Bingo bango
My bones jingle jangle
In the swing and sway
Of the darkening day
While I mingle
I try not to mangle
The things which entangle
The fringe of my angles
Every word I say dangles
From the lessening thickness of my lips
And the weakness in my ankles
Grows exponentially up to just my hips
It hangs
My feet tingle and stir but do not move
The week's fickle blur surrounds this groove
The groove my feet make
The steps they don't take
The sand they create
I like this dandy insanitarium
Because, man, I must be scaring 'em
Best to my own devices and time
But how many vices become mine
And how often do they sing
Of things they can never bring
Things they cannot possibly bring