Wormcans and fishkettles,
High noon and liftshafts,
Innocence and chromosomes,
Telephones and skin grafts;
Jetstreams and uplighters,
Studios and grins:
This is the junk in my
Sack of useless things.

When my work stinks,
Or my life sinks;
When I'm feeling dead,
I simply untie my old binbag of winks,
And let them go to my head.