Yeti

Wolf City

You are a pearl without pity

Your glory is

Like ice cream

Dripping on the skin of a girl



And your voodoo-graph is going

To conquer the world

While the greyhound leans back

In the president's chair

And thousands of children

On their way home

Gasp for fresh air



Your servants set up

A lean-horse-monument

In the alley of cars

A queue with no end

And thousands of cows

Rush into bars



On a wall I see

Many strange signs

They say: Johnny B. Goode!