There’s a monkey in the jungle watching a vapor trail, caught up in the conflict between its brain and its tail. And if it’s Sunday
Comics, then we got nothing to lose! Please repeat the message: It’s the comix that we choose
And she was lying in the grass. And she could hear the highway breathing. And she would read the Sunday Comics; she’s making sure she is not dreaming.
The bats have left the bell tower, the Comics have been read.
Spend Sundays in the black box:
Bela Lugosi’s dead.
No one in the world ever gets what they want, and that is beautiful; everybody dies reading Sunday Comics, and that is beautiful. They want what they’re not and I wish they would stop saying, “Deputy Dawg dog a ding ding debadeba.”
I don’t know where he lives; or if he knows to sail; or if little schemes like this one ever cross his trail. I don’t believe he’s reading Sunday Comics, you know…So I shudder in my lampshade.