A conscious Stream Of Unconsciousness

This nonsense
Makes no sense
It has no scents
But I can sense
With my nose
It does have no-no’s
Cuz the nose knows
But the ayes have it
Real ayes
To realize
With real eyes
Eye see
That what I see
Is so icy
When there’s chaos in the bedroom
There’s bedlam in the chaos
You say this guy
The sky’s in love with you
With Lucy and this guy
And I
Having this treat
On this street
Just the three of us
A three-way on the freeway
But the freeway isn’t free
I’ll do the freeway my way
Its my way or the high way
Getting high on the skyway
With Lucy in the sky
But this guys in love
In love with getting stoned
Getting stoned alone
Need to take out a loan
So he can keep on getting stoned
Stoned for all his days
Puts him in a daze
Dazed and confused
I am not amused
I am a muse
For you to use
Or abuse
You choose
Who chews
Whose who
And who brews
Who gets bruised
From being abused
I won’t tell
About the sins you sell
While in your cell
Now I’m going to Hell
In a hand basket
With a basket case
but just in case
I’ll case the place
Right at home
The funeral home
The seller is in the cellar
And I’m going down
Downstairs
To greet the stares
The icy stares
Of what I see
I see stairs
Icy stares
I see dead people
Like in The Sixth sense
That make no sense
What nonsense
Makes no sense
This nonsense