I saw the rock star afar
looking at tapes in the record store.
He was crouched down low
and his pants pulled to the crack in his ass;
he had soft baby pink skin
and I thought, “that can’t be him;
he should be much taller
and maybe kind of meaner.”
‘Scuse me if I seem a bit anesthetized
so much in my cloud to say “hi” to Lou,
because I just realized
that when you’re face to face with Lou Reed’s butt,
it could only bring you luck.
Face to face those cheeks to cheeks,
Hey, Lou Reed’s butt! What luck!
Lou Reed's "Street Hassle," a poem-song.