
Down in the city where no one’s ever seen
there’s a man in the jungle missing half his spleen,
doctor’s never seen meat cut so lean,
looks to be the handiwork of Mr. Clean.
There’s arms floating in the soldier’s latrine,
the crown of the head’s missing from the queen,
a laced line ‘round the skull forms a seam;
a stitched up smile grinnin’ something obscene,
looks to be the handiwork of Mr. Clean.
Keep an eye on your organs and check their expiry date
for when it comes to his fortune, Mr. Clean’s never late.
Your insides will make orphans you agreed to donate.
When it comes to extortion, Mr. Clean’s never late,
your internal portions always end up on his plate,
if your parts are sold at auction then it’s a dinner date;
the latest fad diet to quickly lose some weight!
© Josh Lonsdale, 2020






