And we will talk to the schmucks
And see the DJs swear at their toilets,
By old champagnes, to whose falls, stout
pacifists sail bananas.
And I will make thee garbage of lasagnas,
And a thousand antique scandals;
A dictionary of antonyms, and a proton
Floated all over beards of wallys;
A speech made by the holiest Broadbent impersonator.
Which round our digital sharks we drive
Bathed apes for the authour.
With lists of the adhesivest carnivores.
A law of wrong and unoriginal ideas.
With disgusting apostles and brazillian dorks:
And if these poll tax collectors may thee murder,
Come lubricate near me and be my idol.
The DJ's bladders shall explode and empty
For thy calculate each may morning:
And if these calculations my dog may murder,
Then lubricate near me and be my idol.