Sir, we're looking for me? We know me? Sir, we've distant data on me? Are we tired of me sitting and late waking too? My ghost, bugs, and Sir, weirding way are all known to us. Sir, we know everything. We grab ***, squeeze ****, and put high finger on it Such wrapturous goodness for me myself and I, but where?
In Crazy Horse Native Americans strip mall? In ridding me of a brown heritage we desperately want to keep?
With every two drink minimum we are there Sir With every bedding down in our laps we are there Sir
In ******* Dawn on Carefree wings to lining our sitting Sea
Our hands, guided piercings of me we are there Sir
We sleep in darkness sweet til babbling Brooks wake us from snug slumber When even Darth night shines with Gwendolyn's tomorrow And inside my full belly, we stitch our patched life quilt Of praise, amazement and montaged secret places
We see Degas tattoos on milky body without form without preconception
We count precious thoughts to fall asleep in dark innocences, in stuck vengeance only to wake with us, always with us
still
If only I could **** an atheist to quench our tribal blood thirst
Our folly speaks evil I hate those, who in folly hate us I count them as us in the Game of finding deep hurt and worried aunts
We hurl away insults to leave bare haters and me eternally on a path to we