The Scent of Power
When the leader of the free lunch
Had the poet of the profit gospel
With the captain of the cardboard box
And the lady of the rapine harvest
And the son of the actual satan
With his princess of the people’s underwear
Did you wonder at the smell in the air?
I wondered at the smell in the air
Powder, sweat, decay, underneath the grassy Tom Ford
And the Washington cat spray
The sky was blue in that DC way -
The kind of bluе that Miles would never play -
A light breezе roofied both our flags for a dance
You must’ve got all kinds of dizzy in your pants…
With the paunchy civil war dress up bullshit pageantry
Did you think ‘what the fuck is this thing standing next to me?’
Or did you fully get lost in that circus
Picturing the picture taking pride in your rumpus room?
What a spread they did lay, such a table!
So many smells to discern were you able :
Vegemite, party pies
Coon blocks and crackers
And the barest faint whiff of the Engadine…