i feel like a sack of shit slung to plug a levee
(emotions ain't real but they sure are heavy)
boil us down to zinc iron copper
world market dollar eighty scooped from a hopper
in a warehouse built of fractals by god
illusions determine our form of sod
unplowed due to steep rocky terrain
fortify with obstacles the living brain
make thyself indigestible, monkey wrench
the stench associated with the bench
marks proving where turds skidded logs to float
mill jobs to japan in island sized boats
count yer blessings by the ounce and the gram
mineral vegetable mre spam
The dalles, spring 2006
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