«That’s right: I neglected to wash my mitts this time—
That’s right: I neglected to wash my mi—
—glected to wash—»
You’ve already played that tape, Jacob;
maybe it’s time you bought a new plush
—1 without stuffing sputtering out o’ its stomach.
I’m not here to clip your wing;
I only want to refine them.
You truly won’t miss the smiling lemon sucker once it’s gone;
its cream has already soured. Can’t you sing?
Who said that?
Your wackiness is back with a scratch, I see…
won’t leave the fresh wound for the salty sea.
Well, it won’t be so fresh for much longer…
when constructing castles will seem like such a laugh,
when all o’ the air’s been popped from the volleyball
by fireflies demanding tedious shells
& a fear for malignant crabs.
So shatter all o’ those records, daddy-O;
you won’t need them where we’ll go.
Ha, why not sell them & make yourself a wise profit?
That’s dangerous suspicions, person:
if you worsen, you’ll only worsen.
«’Cause life’s a beach,
& then you dry;
that’s why we sink lines,
’cause you ne’er know when a fish’ll bite.»