Really, we get down to petroleum
In a bucket? Filled with cash bags! I can see some pulleys ..

A smoking outline that subdues us
edging our blond manes that distract scoutmasters.

Everyone has to wipe off while, boo, you’re impersonating a folk guitarist I outgrew,

So now you want to spend it all while you can,
floating to eke out an ornate living
In a snow globe, thankful for one small chest-hair.
And there I’ll leave it top of the scout manual ..