Wow, am I lucky!

That dream was like a skematic diagram of the back of my color television

Morning becomes a clamp and continues

And there you are, washing one of those paper weights with a real bee inside it, in a real sink

And another (x10)

All to the visible man-show-eye of your record collection

And the screeching of a once young head full of math

It's one hundred miles an hour from the swings

To the pungent ugly honey of a dead thing

Lastability of skulls

Lastability of subjects

(x2)

No one rushed the first fish to crawl

For their more modern introductions to the egg

Pause: Is a bone an egg?

The lastability of skulls

The lastability of subjects

(x3)

The lastability of skulls (That sort of nonsense)

The lastability of subjects (A light: That sort of thing)

(x4)

The lastability of skulls (That sort of nonsense)

How long, how long, how long?

How long (x10)