The Burroughs Millions
by Lucas Pickford
Way back in old St. Louis
Under strata of old bones and time
El Hombre Invisible they called him
His hat and his cane were his sign
On the nod in New Orleans
Lupita’s papers and scripts with Old Ike
Mischance and blew the shot on poor Joan
But Old Bull, he only prayed to the spike
He felt the heat closing in
The fuzz crooning over his dropper and spoon
Melancholy Baby dies from overdose of time
Tying up in un-furnished rooms
Chinese waiters never show sickness
Bill sought them out with his old junky walk
He saw the Gimp catch a hot shot in Philly
Isn’t life peculiar? He thought
Lonny the Pimp, The Shoe Store Kid,
The Vigilante and old Salt Chunk Mary
Clem Snide and Bradley the Buyer
And don’t forget the good Doctor Benway
Seltzer Willy, Danny the Carwiper
A.J the Notorious Merchant of Sex
Dr. Fingers Schafer and the Intolerable Kid
Captain Everhard and all the rest
Down in Tangier he wrote it all down
That stuff on the end of a fork
There’s a sad, end of the world feeling
Out in the Zone’s loneliest port
Like an earthbound junk ghost
The Burroughs’ millions were all just a dream
William’s millions are gone now
It’s the end of the Soft Machine