The poem High School Drag by Mel Welles
Recitation by Phillipa Fallon
from the movie High School Confidential (1958)
Music by David Jason Snow
My old man was a bread stasher all his life.
He never got fat.
He wound up with a used car, a 17-inch screen and arthritis.
Tomorrow is a drag, man,
tomorrow is a king-size bust.
They cried, "Put down pot, don't think a lot."
For what?
Time:
How much,
and what to do with it?
Sleep, man,
and you might wake up digging the whole human race giving itself three days to get out.
Tomorrow is a drag, pops,
the future is a flake.
I had a canary who couldn't sing.
I had a cat that let me share my pad with her.
I bought a dog that killed the cat that ate the canary.
What is truth?
I had an uncle with an Ivy League heart.
He had life with a belt in the back.
He had a button-down brain,
wind up a belt in the mouth
and a button-down lip.
We cough blood on this earth.
Now there's a race for space.
We can cough blood on the moon soon.
Tomorrow is dragsville, cats,
tomorrow is a king-size drag.
Tool a fast shore (?)
Swing with a gassy chick.
Turn on to a thousand joys.
Smile on what happened,
or check what's going to happen,
you'll miss what's happening.
Turn your eyes inside and dig the vacuum.
Tomorrow, drag.