Earth, earth to jeezus to any captain!
We go down slowly and well served.
We serve others. Would fain know who
crap who crap who crap LISTEN TO ME.
STOP! Workers you smell. TV souls. Girls
you reflect joy but don't know how to leave.
Will you not all greet me the king, the gallant counter.
The erroranians read ‘sounter' and saunter around.
No one knows the hook for the fault in which everyone,
I mean every one of these pronouns could go home.
We try on ski suits, but the ski suits are backward.
Don't believe all this, I am just a pair of
glasses stuck in the ground by one end.