I am the man with the cabbage head.
Half-way vegetable half-way man.

For the pretty eyes of Marilou
I went and pawned my Remington typewriter
and my station wagon.
I was at my low ebb, completely done in,
I did not have but one kopeck.
From the very day I started up with her,
I lost almost everything.
My tabloid trash job at the cabbage leaf
that payed for my steak.
I was fucked, done, check-mated
screwed in the eyes of Marilou.
Who toyed with me like a bird on a string,
and was making me halfway cuckoo.

Oh man, you don’t even know.
She had to have the discotheques
and diner at Club Kangaroo.
So I kept writing out bad checks.
I was going nuts, nuts.

In the end I turned her head,
into a cantaloupe, a water melon.
But come on.
I ‘aint laying everything out like that.
What? Me? Still in love with her?
That’s crap!

Who and where am I?
Am I a cabbage here
or seaweed in the white foam beaches of Malibu.