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