Memo From Turner

Didn't I see you down in San Antone on a hot and dusty night

We were eating eggs in Sammy's when the black man drew his knife

Then you drowned that Jew in Rampton as he washed his sleeveless shirt

You know that Spanish-speaking gentlemen, the one we all call Kurt

I remember you in Hemlock Road in 1956

You were a faggy little leather boy with a smaller piece of stick

You were a lashing, smashing hunk of man, your sweat shines sweet and strong

Your organ's working perfectly but there's a part that's not screwed on

Were you at the coke convention back in 1965

You're the misbred grey executive I've seen heavily advertised

You're the great gray man whose daughter licks policemen's buttons clean

You're the man who squats behind the man who works the soft machine

Come now, gentleman, there must be some mistake

How forgetful I'm becoming now you fixed your buisness straight

When the old men do the fighting and the young men all look on

And the young girls eat their mothers meat from tubes of plasticon

Be wary of these, my gentle friends, of all the skin you breed

They have that tasty habit, they eat the hands that bleed

So remember who you say you are but keep your noses clean

Boys will be boys who play with toys so be strong with your beast

Oh, Rosie dear, don't you think it's queer so stop me if you please

The baby is dead, my lady said, you gentlemen, why, you all work for me

Come now, gentleman, your love is all I crave

You'll still be in the circus when I'm laughing in my grave