Heaven, it's a white wall

Heaven, it's a white wall,
a black satin sofa and a new football.
tossed into the mix a juggler doing primitive tricks
and a bed where I can get my kicks
far from the public square.
I find it best watching you from there.
into a coma
with a cook and maid and an Ivy League diploma,
a chauffeur and a nanny
with a sweet young fanny
on her towel near the beach,
never too far out of reach.
across the floors wild paintings of whores
pointing south to the famous exit doors
personally bought for a cheap nickle and a cent:
I've no money left for next months' rent.
It's not strange, it's the way:
there's so much confusion without a clue of what to do or say.
I've turned my pockets inside out
and found they've been filled with shades of doubt.
a broken string on a new violin,
a red guitar and shot of gin
heard 'round the world one happy night
to make a point about appetite.
Heaven, it's a white wall,
a black satin sofa and a new football.