Titel: Instant poetry
Artist: Golden earing
Washing machine, space age dream
\n Let me serve you, keep me clean
\n Rinse me plain, spin me sane
\n I'll trust my dirt to only you
\n Automobile, see me kneel
\n I'll scrub your back, I'll buy your meal
\n I'll choke your start, I'll warm your heart
\n I'll dream of dying just with you
\n See me wish from 8
\n to all day long
\n (I've) got no time
\n (I'm) not inclined to hum a song
\n Just like a robot waiting for a fuse
\n I'm too crazy to even have the blues
\n Instant, instant, instant poetry,
\n too hot, to be continued next week
\n Instant, instant, instant poetry,
\n too slow, too slow, to be tongued in cheek
\n T.V. syndrome, holy custom
\n Millions squeeze you to their bosom
\n You're always welcome, drive out boredom
\n You're one eye's all the art we need
\n
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