3 2 1 contacthigh
the children got sent out into the street with pushbrooms
to tire themselves out before bed
bombs were wrapped in bedsheets as extravagance reached into our pockets for a
patriotic paycheck or two
grey passed along the jagged ends of fences' twisted steel and bottle's fierce edges
we all mixed our eggs with gunpowder
saltpeter still hangs from the hairs in my nose
we rode beds
like gypsys
in vans like hippies and immigrants
into new times, places
where people still gave a shit about god and government and it was all on the up and up
line dancing wiggers alternated accents as the deejay shouted
'lets light up this sky so they can see us all the way in iraq'
where soldiers were queens and kings were dogs
everybody knows how big everbody else's cock is and everyone who gets back alive
gets scholarships and makeovers on local news
each block fought to outdo the other
in humboldt park
children shot roman candles at each other's parents and lawn chairs
daring trucks and trees to burn
spilling coors and tecate
in indiana
crackers shot bottle rockets through treehouse villages
at one and others with mouths full of dischord and sst
in joliet
there was dancing on the lawn in mercury flipflops
kid rock and the statue of liberty shook their fiists and
every war wound was a thing of pride and the more disfigured your daddy was
the better he put it to your mom
downtown the buzzards and homeless fought the city for scraps
so long as the number of turkey legs consumed
outweighs the number of soldierscivilians lost
we're in a good place
my mind isn't here, on the pen in this chair. at work. it wasn't on this weekend. i forewent parties for adventuretime with roommates and girlfriend. i was only half invited anyway. and bitter. Every few hours I was given a pretty light to play with and ball up in my eyes or a chorus of alarums and kabooms. i've never felt more neutral about america before. i'm tired, just like that cunt sandra day, and i want to take some time off it.
i would just like to take the time to thank the heroes who protested the G8 in scotland. The anarchists and absurdists, clowns and drummers who took a beating for the world. Thank you for fighting back. Thank you for fighting back with passive agressiveness. Thank you for fighting back with true aggressiveness. Thank you for a few romantic images on teevee in the middle of last night inbetween hollywood's declining ticketsales and shoes that fight cellulite
to tire themselves out before bed
bombs were wrapped in bedsheets as extravagance reached into our pockets for a
patriotic paycheck or two
grey passed along the jagged ends of fences' twisted steel and bottle's fierce edges
we all mixed our eggs with gunpowder
saltpeter still hangs from the hairs in my nose
we rode beds
like gypsys
in vans like hippies and immigrants
into new times, places
where people still gave a shit about god and government and it was all on the up and up
line dancing wiggers alternated accents as the deejay shouted
'lets light up this sky so they can see us all the way in iraq'
where soldiers were queens and kings were dogs
everybody knows how big everbody else's cock is and everyone who gets back alive
gets scholarships and makeovers on local news
each block fought to outdo the other
in humboldt park
children shot roman candles at each other's parents and lawn chairs
daring trucks and trees to burn
spilling coors and tecate
in indiana
crackers shot bottle rockets through treehouse villages
at one and others with mouths full of dischord and sst
in joliet
there was dancing on the lawn in mercury flipflops
kid rock and the statue of liberty shook their fiists and
every war wound was a thing of pride and the more disfigured your daddy was
the better he put it to your mom
downtown the buzzards and homeless fought the city for scraps
so long as the number of turkey legs consumed
outweighs the number of soldierscivilians lost
we're in a good place
my mind isn't here, on the pen in this chair. at work. it wasn't on this weekend. i forewent parties for adventuretime with roommates and girlfriend. i was only half invited anyway. and bitter. Every few hours I was given a pretty light to play with and ball up in my eyes or a chorus of alarums and kabooms. i've never felt more neutral about america before. i'm tired, just like that cunt sandra day, and i want to take some time off it.
i would just like to take the time to thank the heroes who protested the G8 in scotland. The anarchists and absurdists, clowns and drummers who took a beating for the world. Thank you for fighting back. Thank you for fighting back with passive agressiveness. Thank you for fighting back with true aggressiveness. Thank you for a few romantic images on teevee in the middle of last night inbetween hollywood's declining ticketsales and shoes that fight cellulite
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