Travolta (quote Unquote)

Mr. Bungle

All behold the spectacle

A fleshy limbless rectangle

Sitting on a pedestal

So nasal handicapable



Sniff and remember silver ball

Contortions that he can't recall

The torso on a trampoline

The happiness melts into dream



To talk is an enunciated sneeze

To taste is some foul air to breathe



One thought it lasts a day and at that rate he'll most likely live forever!

He's a bird in flight, a hermaphrodite

And he fucks himself as he fucks the world



His twitching brain can dance within

Gyrating more like gelatin

A secret means of ecstasy

Acute and very olfactory



To see is colors crawling in the nose

To hear is stinking highs and lows



He's got an itch but nothing with which to scratch the itch - so wish it away



With his mouth sewn shut, he still shakes his butt

Cuz he's Hitler & Swayze & Trump & Travolta



Smell, Sweat, Movement.

Everyone's dancing.

Disco.

Dimple.

Fading. Darker.

A subtle fragrance.

Faint.

Everyone's dancing without him.

Where did it go?

Dark.

Odorless.

Nothing.