Passing the Baton by Nick Cooke

There’s some serious shit going down.

You need to keep your mind as clear
as a dolphin’s rear end

Right?

Learn to look over your shoulder
without moving your noggin an inch
and tune your lugs so tight
they can hear a pin before it drops

If you think you got a mate
his real name’s probably Judas

Be ready to do what’s required –
I got the rope, you find the tree

There’s some heavy crap in the air.

You need to peel your own eyeballs
with a switchblade

Get it?

Trust your instincts like brothers

Cut out the middlemen
of reflection and doubt

Rationalisation is vastly-overrated –
nothing wrong with animal cunning –
whoever calls it low ought to
get down in the dirt with me
and shoot their own high horse

There’s some mega-sized turds on the doorstep. 

You need to shovel them off
without blinking

You hear me?

Stare in the devil’s own orbs

Eye contact’s the name of this game
and if you lose you snooze
bigtime in the land of the bones

Don’t forget to drop my name
but when they stoop to pick it up
it’s a knee to the snout, then a nutting 

Go on with you, make your old dad proud.