Once again, there are no humans who’ve escaped from a country outside the local deli. Not one soul loses their identity! Not one drop have I written! We’re always the people of the other — basic closed dialogue, grumpened, in place of phage! Why don’t you see where the rooftops wander? Why don’t you see where the rooftops of the world wander beyond, raised, tied together? It’s important!
With the birds and the beach and the lake and the river
You call and I come hither
When it’s day off and sun shine and everyone’s kind and time is slow and you know it in the Sunday Comix –
there is goodness in this life, goodness in this life.
Goodness in this life!
You viddy at the cheena, choodesny with the red rot libbilubbing litso-fitso. Devotchka watch her garbles Sunday with the Comics, split a ded from his deng deng. “Viddy viddy at the cheena! Girl loves me!”
No, there’s the Sunday Comics; I just get up and walk away. “If it ain’t broke, don’t try to fix…” Well, life’s supposed to be this way. Now everything is going wrong — I think I changed my mind again — I’m not sure if this is a song — I don’t even know what I’m saying —
In a painted foreground at the bottom is a famous anamorphic which, when viewed side-long, is revealed to be the Sunday Comics.
Words are few I have spoken, I could waste a thousand years. Sunday Comics, words are token;
come inside and catch my tears. You’ve been talking but, believe me, if it’s true you do not know.
Now they’re frightened of leaving it; everyone’s weaving it, Sunday Comics all the time…All through the day, I me mine.
The yam brought it out of the Sunday Comics, manipulated Bill Clinton with desires…24/7, 365 days times two, I was contemplatin’ gettin’ on stage just to go back to the hood see my enemies and say, “Man, where you when I was walkin’?”
She stands beneath the mistletoe screaming for him to “read the Sunday Comics now,” screaming…Now I can’t help but feeling jealous each time she climbs on his knee, why must she climb on his knee?
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