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The day I get up and walk out of here
They hand me a sherbet of tomato
And I am a fat roll of bleeps and silence
Pasted onto the time where our human
Love tries not to walk toward the light

The day I get up and sing out the name
I was born with begins with an alert
To all the sad and single-minded robots
To assume the blankness of orgasm
And locate me in the upper deck

Watching the cannon fire the harvest
The bright switching of the cars from
One side of the affect to the cricket
Excitement that is a music and the temps
The scoreboard alternates with the time

I descend through the tear gas
To organize the fallen into a rage
More pretty than an industry award
And clearer to the xylophone bosses
Wary of this unforeseen mercy