8 stone Sunday lobster
Subway cars roll in
Building of coffins
Build me a coffin
Pour me some coffee
White house radar readings
"The last text on village firearms"

My dad eats shit and barks at the moon
And Mr. Gene-o holds the spoon - he said so

Sun-tanned bodies floating in ice cream
Worries carried away - hey
On distant mushroom clouds
I talk very loud
He says "Mind your manners"
I do, but don't think so

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