he come steppin, shady-foot and sharp
optic nerve hangin from an angle off the stars
he come walkin, feather-finger and sneak
past all the frontline "D" fences i can strewed 'round my bare racks
so he come lookin, all flightless and debeaked
check me out when i go bloody-foot down
he come seein across vista and view
he got a good eyeball though i didn't flick open all the lights
he think he gots something, a jewel or a rock
it could fit in my mouth if i wasn't full of cotton bats
he think he gots a joy gem he can shove all down in me
but olafactory and taste, i don't let nothin fill me when i'm full
tell him he gotta get lost. just tell him he gotta go
his choco-macular orb and empty thoughts
make a dark world slow.
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