As the aforementioned men go off in open air
To be entertained, to evade the footpads
Vandals and thieves
Unclimbable steeps
A mass of white haired sheep
Their restless education
Fingers bent back to claws
As hours condensed and bred fears
In those freed yet unable to sell their freedom
Each compelled to each – to follow steam
A factory squares with no theory
At first utopian the second suburb
Cloaks and escapes
Made for its mall – croquet dogs
Each factory acts to consume
A miraculous mile of shops
A symphonic time-sink that ditched
And drains humanity
Unsatisfied work each night when sex
Labors to produce its spring
Winter's seasonal
Whose Friday night gains encamped
In overheated huddles
Adrift in faulty definition where farce repeats
Each word unclear as spectacle charts
The sandwiched female lungs
Disarmed by law, pirates
Repackage Jeffrey Daumer’s flesh
They embrace the false history of fine talk
But every mouse has a moral view
The most angered Author answers all things
No friend of commerce, Handicraft
Divines what's conquered
We trend toward unconditional cries or laughter
Despite protests to the contrary
Lazy enthusiasts trapped in economic circumstance
The miller's bandit after the thresh
400 years of unmastered debt
To eat the higher proportion of wages
One extorts one’s hired portion
Quick sleep in the famished sea
I worked over at Pottery Barn and perished instantly
Wedgewood’s factotum at fever’s pitch
The porcelain habit yields no place to piss
Enforced through history
Best intentions emerged in relays
Batons passed where knowledge enacts
Little machines – somatic fire drills
Let's call her princess for
A little bird one day was king
I don't know where he lives
The devil in deed a good person
God is that dog
Fought last week and lost
Lifeless haunts in the dark
No specter, no shadow, no chance
The little circle jerk of a citizen
The mini-series which fails to minister
Miseries naturally scarce
Left in short air
The cheese-man smiles as profit advanced itself
The food stuffs of the Gila monster
Stretched to include all persons
And corruption of the shameless parts
Each product seeks the powers of commerce
Forced participation in a market adequate to the new
Each mode feeds what
Sinks or swims in labor pools
Hot tubs of adulterated fact
Whose primary law demands increased production
Profit is borne out of the day's divide
That divines a hour of rest, to salt ones wound
Silence lapsed in the din of a listless ship
Yes, moments are elements of profit
But the nation needs strong warriors
Not diminished specimens of gelatinous mush
Parasites in the folds that lack all extremity
And unmediated mass of shit
Forget the story of who I was
I sold my soul
Rethinking the consumption of lost time
Let’s feed the rich or erase them
Little lords and vassals who made the pencil possible
To account our endless hours of distress
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