then i went down into the basement where my friend the maniac busies himself with his electronic graffiti finally his language touches me because he talks to that part of us which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls in that moment poetry will be made by everyone and there will be emus in the zone mist covers the ground in the city engine rumbles quiet as we drift by i wish you could see through my crooked eye oh your beauty plays me just like a guitar string i want your touch oh how i want you far too much she s my baby days drift into one it s so pretty traveling wilburys police photofits and this stolen car is loaded with junk it s so dirty you ll be the death of me but that s okay i want your touch oh how i want you far too much she s my baby 1