The Funky Train 3
In the funky train,
All the hoo-ha-noisy end in fisticuff;
As the crumpled greenback hand-out cough,
The law has nothing to handcuff,
Maneuvering on the sloppy storey hill
A frantic dance of dead-drunk crazy masquerade;
Man-handling the dare-devil by weary drenched soaked in
Springs from a ream hole in the floor
Hand-shuffling on long iron pole gear,
Wrestling with reckless white knuckles of steering wheel;
A nipple for torch-light knob looking tough headlamps,
A bare-face speedometer, a mare decor;
Rear is bare, except fanning out putrid fart in
And a pumping brake failure refused to catch,
Disaster looms down a glitch away,
Marijuana induced braggarts, bang at the battered dent
All acted in the climatic anti-climax role in the tragic
As horn and side mirrors, villains make do,
Ghastly farewell garland to stranded passengers on
Welcome to hellish shore of grimacing dismember carcasses,
From the extinct scratched my backside please dense
Stigmatized masses muck arranged tight,
File in wooden slavery mule;
And the pompous promise land looks a light years away,
Now on the garish cold rusted cut steel,
Buttocks crammed on planks for seats;
Knees folded to gangrene stroke roost,
Pillaged and pilloried, rasped and gasped for a slice bread
Staled sweats seeped and poured decayed stench on forms;
queer squeezed queued on narrow alley,
Romancing buttocks swell sips to bursting through;
And the lushing rhythmic beating drum
Re-enters lock and brake,
Dilepa dilepa dilepa duro nube o!
Omokunrin kan ti daran nube o!
Ofowo kanmi loyan me solo!
ofowo kanmi nidi me solo!
Toku toku lona nkan boyi o!
Komo ipe kolokolo lahere wa!