Mumblin' Jim rode the late trains to stay warm
Dodging the ever-present transit polis by disappearing
Silently between the worn out seats
On a particularly cold Tuesday he accidentally
Slid like a kid into the STP Queen
Head first with a practiced burst
Had a few sips to slake her thirst
She wasn't at first altogether keen
With his rude disruption of her scene
But mellowed out when she saw he wasn't being mean
Just a dope on the rails
Trying to tip the scales
In his favor as he dodged the chemtrails
That rained down from the heavens
Like devilish elevens
Or burnt toast angelfish sevens
Crawling out from underneath
The post-modern power pop rock crap
That sprung from the ruins of the venerated classic
Tick tock boot strap kick trap
With a snare on beats 2 or 4
Followed by the pathetic majestic synthetic
Fanfare dripping from the fingertips of the burly girly man Demanding to see his ride fare
And when they locked eyes, bloodshot
Sunken in their pocket wall sockets
Spent of all fuel like a staggering runner
Crossing the finish line after the tattoo'd machine gunner
Who had failed in his humorous attempts to spin her
Which only served to pique his curiosity
And fuel her gulosity to devour him voraciously
He himself taken aback by the Queen's
Titillating multitrack and rapid-fire gimcrack
Quickly taking stock of the massive probability factors
Involved in such an unlikely chance meeting of actors
Involved in staged plays occurring on different days
In separate venues, quite a ways away
From the space they now shared in the maze
That was almost always bereft of cheese at the end
If you can dig it, man
They knew then it must be part of a plan
Or a random happenstance, misunderstood but grand
Either way they made the most, as it were
Engrossed with each other's bedpost demeanor
Neither wanting to waste the other's favor
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