El Goucho

....
He sat there chemically tired,

Not realising where he really was,

Sitting on a cloud inside,

Looking like a slow motion nodding dog.

And experience tells me he's gone,

Living it out and caught up in the con,

Some people never stand a chance at all,

Born in nirvana and into hell they instanly fall.

El Goucho sits there,

With his face in his dinner,

An electric shock to bring him round,

Only, once again,his head hits the foods ground.

The brown and liquid green have taken hold,

He could be here for a thousand years,

If he doesn't get it now he'll soon be cold,

And I know that the con has been sold on his fears.

El Goucho is away with the yachting club,

Sailing on winds blown in from the east,

Dedication to self-prescribed medication is all he's got,

The hour is nearing when he'll have his final shot.

Copyright Noel Roche 30/11/04

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