Untitled 18

29 May 2008

·shocks

I can almost split a hair with just my tongue I sleep on beds of needles from the hay that I feed the fascist pigs between cliches. And I do all that while everybody's young. I can call a spade a spade, an ax an ax I can Feed the World or Save the Whales (not both). That's due to Third World exponential growth- my free-trade coffee helps me smell the facts. And when the going's tough I hit the road (it's harder than it sounds, really, it hurts) If a cop is on my tail, my tail perverts the course of justice- crack's the code. Not a liar, I just bend the rules sometimes. I'm a spaceman! and today I come in peace, then I'm bagged and tagged by grim secret police who are getting bloody sick of cliche rhymes. All in all I'm just an immaterial girl bricks in walls ain't got nothing on me, babe I'm a cog. Everything I've got I gave- but I took a shot and gave the thing a whirl.

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