"...in the litany of life and in the special liturgy of Man: Vesicles by Adam, Rejoinders by the Crucified.
We are the centuries.
We are the chin-choppers and the golly-woppers, and soon we shall discuss the amputation of your head.
We are your singing garbage men, Sir and Madam, and we march in cadence behind you, chanting rhymes that some think odd.
Hut two threep foa!
Left!
Left!
He-had-a-good-wife-but-he
Left!
Left!
Right!
Left!
Wir, as they say in the old country, marschieren weiter ween alles in Scherben fallt.
We have your eoliths and your mesoliths and your neoliths. We have your Babaylons your Pompeiis, your Caesars and your chromium-plated (vital-ingredient-impregnated) artifacts.
We have your bloody hatches and your Hiroshomas.
We march in spite of Hell, we do —
Atrophy, Entropy, and Proteus vulgaris, telling bawdy jokes about a farm girl name of Eve and a traveling salesman called Lucifer.
We bury your dead and their reputations.
We bury you. We are the centuries.
Or in more modern parlance, Vesicles by Thunberg and her "hot topic" enablers, Rejoinders by the aging masses assembled in palaces of steel.
Get crazy Charge me and my family Charge me Charge me and my next of kin Charge me Charge me like a credit card Charge me Charge me yes, oh yes, God Charge me Charge me you're a fooling dog Charge me Charge me 'cause I'll break a pause Charge me Charge me like a ... Charge me Charge me criminal at large Charge me Charge me can't get open doors Charge me Charge 'cause I have what's yours Charge me Charge me 'cause I'm feeling dark Charge me Charge me for stealing heard Charge me
You know you'll never survive to judge me
Yeah you judge me
Yeah you judge me
You judge like a God
You know you'll never survive to judge me
Yeah you judge me
Yeah you judge me so hard
You judge like you were a God
You live in a glass house
Yeah you live alone
Like you were a God
You live in a glass house
Yeah you live alone
Like you were a God
Aaron Copland and Billy the Kid and piano interludes — nice, nice since I have nothing better to say. Imagine now the fingers at play on the keys. Nixon, I am calling again, put those lanky piano fingers of yours into mine. Give me what I need. I am calling again, can't you hear? Where are you?
It's resounding into the maelstrom with "Fanfare for the Common Man". Trust the star gazers.
Remember the Art of Peace:
As soon as you concern yourself with the "good" and "bad" of your fellows, you create an opening in your heart for maliciousness to enter. Testing, competing with, and criticizing others weaken and defeat you.
Remember!
