The care free are running
wild abandon into the ground,
watching swaying hips
and jiggeling tits, under neon light.
While I meticulously grind
shoulder bone into dust.

Black cats are crossing my path
at every turn
and I without a wind shield,
to draw an X.
Even the sweet breeze
blows bone dust into
the eyes of the bone grinder.

Keep grinding!
Grind to the sound of the world
tumbeling down!
Grind beneath the sun and moon!
Look towards the sky,
with the alabaster, powdered face
of the bone grinding fool!