We are in state of Cayenne – a bit of
a haze, sitting on a red plush, beer stained couch
while mouthing a chorus of redundant phrases over three chords
that only speak to nihilists wearing shirts with empty sleeves.
Remember though, that opiates have been in pitchers of Hi-C
long before fluoride was introduced to improve our dental hygiene
(unless, of course, you were a rebel with a well).
And our government will distribute a mass issue of Sominex
to be downed by the handful (with a fifth of Jack
to eradicate the null-gel taste) before we drop the ball
in the Big Apple again. All of this trouble because
we prefer Percocet, while others have a predilection towards Morphine.
Sobriety is not the answer mind you, then we’d notice
that god would have to use his JEM-5G electron microscope
to discover our quark sized race (a strange flavor indeed).
There’s a reasonable solution to our specie’s predicament. We should
crossbreed our genome with the poppy, so that both eyeballs
continue to operate, but none of our eyes can see,
especially not the third one, which will become antiquated symbolism
(like opiates, manna trees, and beating hearts will become otherwise).
Let’s Say 2001? Who knows.
