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Get Beat-3-Zorrid


On The Streetcorner of Technology

Just swaying into the poison’d breeze

Admiring the handiwork of artificial Hell

Thinking, as the last of the pemmican juice

Slaps down my throat, what a fine place

This would be to die out of

Pulling switches, the old block & pulley bit

Permanently wash’d out of consciousness

Yes but it sounds a bit much even to me

Let the word go out: I’ll settle for less

Whoops the light’s changed & my non-animal

Quasi-instinctual reflex co-ordinator is

On the fritz again sounds fantastic no?

Everywhere they are gathering together lonely

In unison await another chance,

Another toy, another miracle faith

In the old blood has been transferr’d to new masters

Who are self-anoint’d effigies of the gods

If, indeed, they are anything at all

Wish they would all go live on moon & planets

Leave the earth to those who want to stay

& love the old gal like crazy cha-cha

if that happens maybe the earth would,

like your lungs if you quit smoking,

come back pink & healthy brandnew

hmmmm no good polishing junkyard delusions

this planet is going down the tubes dying kaput

dead men in a house of certain death