Disintegration Waltz

You took a cross-country bus tour across Italy against your will, taking snapshots of all the bambinos making their pizzas on Skid Row in Venice near the [?] canals on [?] Boulevard
To be in the prison in [?] caretaker to [?]
Four [?] scored into Imperial Palace where stunted-growth court jesters of Jamaican descent swarmed to the main chamber where King [?] Jr. announced the arrival of the new slave girls

We swarmed around him with pleasant artificial penises shaking [?] hands and [?] rituals, shining laser technology while performing his sensitive cornea transplant to correct his cataract cancer

The slave girls would only come to him one-by-one for him to experience the Heavenly pleasures of their puñeta bombushka parcorra [?], which dried [?] in the hot [?] sun, their shrunken heads dangling like dated disco medallions over their small chest, forcing the sheikh to push his ears out
Like the sacred elephants who shit on untouchable, surfing on [?] carpets, polluting the air with common looted [?]

Until one day, the lost Italian cross-countries tour bus ate 45 goldfish attaining [?] but not one cow - they would not touch the cows

Krishna angrily shaved his head into a mohawk just to spite his parents, despite the Mussolini polaroid intruders spraying graffiti on the palace walls giving free publicity to 45 Grave
The day the music died