In the town where I was born
there was an ugly man
He lived with seven ugly dogs
he brought back from Japan
The rumors flew for decades that he
dined on little kids
But nothing of the truth came out
until he hit the skids
The fortune that had kept him flush
and hidden from our view
was one day taken from him by a
letter from the blue
It came from underneath a pile
of parcels long forgot that some
disgruntled postman had once rudely
stashed away to rot

Seven ugly men
A deathly ugly dog
A wad of dirty yen
A house up in the fog

In the place I used to work
there was a broken door
It stood between the toilet and
the entrance to our floor
We never could quite close it so
we had to face the fact that
a bodily necessity
became a social act
We called in firms from near and far
to try to mend the latch
But no amount of effort could
ensure a solid catch
In summer it might fasten snug
and save us from the smell
But winter’d come and Heaven knows
we’d suffer as in Hell

Fantasies of plumbing
A door without a lock
You hear your neighbor coming
You’ve seen her giant sock

La, la, la, life is com-
pletely fucking fine; I
live inside a marzipan skull and
drink Chernobyl wine
La, la, la, don’t get your
bowels in a roar; the
slaver has completed his task and he’s
heading for the door


So about that ugly man
You thought that I forgot
It turned out that he’d made his fortune
sitting on the pot
He was indeed a danger to the
children of our town
But not exactly in the way we’d
spread the word around
He made them walk his dogs
and sneak them into cars
where they’d quietly stash little packages of
homemade muesli bars
The bars contained a tiny core of ir-
radiated glue that
stuck inside the stomach of who-
ever might happen to chew it

A twisted wicked plot
A secret recipe
A man whom love forgot
A dog up in a tree

La, la, la, life is com-
pletely fucking fine; I
live inside a blueberry skull and
drink Bikini wine
La, la, la, don’t let your
buttocks get too sore; the
master will release you now un-
less you beg for more


So the door fell off the jamb
The man rolled down the hill
The children all escaped and told us
tales that made us ill
The dogs would howl at sunset
and chase delivery trucks
But after all that drama we could
not give zero fucks
A news report came in about a
postman sent to jail
Our company shut down and sent its
slaves back in the mail
We all turned up our smartphones and we
microwaved our brains
We put ourselves in storage and we
wrapped our town in chains
La, la, la, life is com-
pletely fucking fine; I’m
trapped inside an artichoke skull with
putrid maple wine
La, la, la, don’t give me
trouble anymore; I’ve
got to run and find all my dogs and
fix this fucking door