BLOOD drips like water in
this greasy tub, cultures break away,
as you wash this fever off, time explodes,
as you shut your old mans eyes, is this
for real, or a dream from your wicked
mind, .
OLD man, wake up.
OLD man, wake up.
OLD man, wake up,
for this is your baptism,
and the death of your old
ways.................
DAVID GERARDINO
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/23-fitzroy-road-wash-his-fever-off/
