The Seattle Star

I been dipped in double meaning; I been stuck with static cling; Think I got a rupto-pac; Think I got a big mac attack — hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don’t upset us, all we as is that you let us serve it your way.

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!