My white dog is free tonight, 

He will take me to the most sizzling part of the city. 

A pub where comets drink…we will be there, on a old stool, 

we will be cruising. 

Nirvana on poetic woofers

and ladies with buttery legs, 

their fire will not have any mouse in it.

We will be sharing beers with men having ragged shirts and dusty hands. 

Free from all ancient banalities, 

we will make ourselves beggars…magical beggars. 

Just let me have this green bong…

My white dog is right outside the door, 

ready to knock, 

ready to come with glittering aspirations.