Can’t open my eyes or my ears—
if I let ‘em in it’ll be the end.
They’ll steal my voice if I speak too loud.
The drones are hovering above the house.
If I’m arrested, well, I’m arrested!
Don’t tell me what to do.
I’ll climb mountains of filth to get me there—
I’ll sit on my throne of milk crates.
I found a safe place to hide during the end time…
I’d invite you in, but I don’t think you can
stomach the smell.
You might be a liberal.
Pass me the bottle boys, I’ve gotta pee—
count to 100 and forget about me.
I can rummage for all time—I’ll bury myself—
under years and years.
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