She’s reading Sunday Comics, “oh, Basho’s cute.” She’s reading Sunday Comics when they shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot.

In the mornin’ you go gunnin’ for the man who stole your Comics And you fire till he is done in but they catch you last Sunday And the mourners are all singin’ as they drag you by your feet But the hangman isn’t hangin’…

You, the people of the United States, did you form a perfect union?/Establish justice, ensure tranquility, secure the blessings of Liberty to yourselves and your posterity?/How blind can you get for your country, right or wrong? — “America,” Laibach

An XL entry connoting the 200th edition of the Sunday Comics, our weekly collection of art and humor from Around the World and the Creative Commons market.

It’s so deep, it’s so wide, you’re inside synchronicity/Effect without a cause, subatomic laws, Sunday Comics y’all, synchronicity!

Sunday Comics from morning ’til night/Dance low, pat, and I’m feeling all right.

Back from the shadows again, back to where an Indian’s your friend/Where Sunday Comics are seen, and you can pee right into the stream/We’re back from the shadows again

Catch the mist, catch the myth, catch the mystery, catch the drift/The world is, the world is, Sunday Comics are deep/Maybe as his skies are wide, today’s Tom Sawyer, he gets by on you.

Watch it burn, reluctantly he leaves/Watch it burn, Sunday Comics make him wheeze/Watch it burn, humming “Sherry,” splits the scene