Rock, paper, scissors (the black post)

this is a general conclusion

To Polly Ann

and if the train a'goin'
all them is bound to stay
the vulture look a'prey
onto the things remainin'

a filthy dirty bottles
of cheap bavarius beer
now don't ya leave me here
is small a place a'frottles

i'm not a rich and clean boy
i feeds on beef and eggs
i feeds on eyes and legs
i feeds on boon and rob roy

my hair's a'not is golden
my eyes a'not is blue
you say i not wants you
i say i nam a burden

Source:

Fictitious frame figure

zebra fire, kitchen smell
grass is green and she as well
stormy yellow little shits
fall is slipping on the streets

Yeah, mate

and we all spin and turn and head
towards the galactic goalpost