Three dead bodies under hessian
a dog with no arse and I’m in one
of 10,000 cars carving the market
heading to the Indira Bar

Outside gangs of wild men
carry curved knives
it’d be Ali Baba if this was Persia
to kill for wallet & passport

In far off places I’d be dead
many times except for my fucking kill you
Guinness face and incredible speed
over short distances.

Tonight at 1:00 am they want to kill me
I’m singing The Stranglers which totem-like
has worked before but not now as Ali comes for
his Gentile pound of flesh.

A cavalry of street urchins arrive
‘Hey mister you wanna ride elephant?
You like Ricky Ponting mister? Me Dennis Lilee, very fast.
Come you follow, very fast, quickly’

Ali and his men won’t touch ‘em
it’s love as we run like a pack of dogs
around the corner, across the street
up another into an elephant 12 foot high

knocking pots off second floor balconies
as the kids dance and sing
a black Afghan hand pulls me up
and says in perfect english

so, how do you like my country?