I've started wearing a wig in the car

It's thrilling But so is this poem I want to take up a most profound authority Throughout the neighbourhood A village pastor And various pursuits of a similar kind Give me my own planet My own earf Postmodernist scumbag And cowboys from hell days I want to hear the new Beyonce album Between the buried and me I am a cloud cuckoo lander And wear a wig when driving my car And the drying clothes all in the attic I haven't time to fold them away tidily But even the thieves were forgiven