ACT I

Ah rice paper promises, for wet days on the seesaw: The Jumping Boy breaks the smoking tea circle, running ragged rizzla fillers substitute to hoop Long Eliza (traditional). Once up needs must - needs more, stays up in smoke so princess. Fishy funds so slush and squishy, melting on the down slide with slippery. Cool Fool and No Bank Fool with No Wan win none lose: the loss is your dosh San.(Far eastern speak translation please) Balance sheet kamikaze equals dishonorable mark up on snakes and ladders. Crap shooters jump off the edge of the penthouse. Flying top rung samurai, inscrutable lemmings, splatter depression into the seven sidewalks of sorry. Flatliners was a film, once upon a time.

ACT II

It is getting ever more hard, to find takers left field, with breath left, without an attitude, or take a break at this altitude, without catching cold off comatose Boris from Shafted and Screwed. Hara-kiri amateurs with right tie, pile their dead high from Etonian wall to wall street. Char-grilled merchant-wankers, Pump and Peddle play cycle bankers - the traders from hell; yell "Sell,sell, SELL!" Twister any takers - tosses for losses - pancakes stick to the pan, microwave muggings in wine-bars and sneezers in Porsches, becomes a flood, as burgers rates and tables burn. Baghdad banana skin and Monica's diet are back on the menu again. Cucumber-cool cruise control, come use my missile.

ACT III

I borrowed skins, spares from brother Noah: a digital dime studded saddle, to jump start Trigger, strung up down the lockup livery stable, in case this hanging shower belt, O.K. on the edge of town, cannot bare to stop baiting brother bull. Sometimes a mans got to... stuff Mobile on the mobile to powder up ones pretty nose. Or "...leave town in a hurry partner." before the noon train, drug store gang of outlaw, "High Cowboys!" Puts stiletto's pager up on Boot Hill. "He died with your bug and no boot laces", reviews read lipstick on your "caller waiting" with everything, when boots went belly-up. Transsexual dismembering cut from Health budget with jobs losses in North East: chancellor's means to target new growth in ear of City, priority bankrollers pass the bucks, New Man-dies from same old sweetener. Artist piss in street gets mention in dispatches.

ACT IV

Times Christian calendar, all hands please, O.D when all the clocks striking twelve. Sing "sold" old man, mouthful of sperm down the river to the tune of plastic, with the show girl shit sat showing fishnet on the laptop, "Just a walk in the park", into the Sun. I said I needed a rest not arrest. I'm staying at the Bates Motel, no-one knows I'm here, just Norman and the paparazzi. Nice and quiet? Life sometimes sucks, 'till you hit that bridge. Which chauffeur sold belts to Michael? Iceberg dead ahead. Who needs fiction? Clean up that cute koala stain with some more Aussie soap. Is that money back on the offer from the laundry yet? Madame Butterfly blows hot and cold in the john of the world this semester. Gary Cooper counts his friends.