Wow, am I lucky! That dream was like a skematic diagram of the back of my color television. Morning becomes a clamp and continues And there you are, washing one of those paper weights with a real bee inside it, in a real sink And another (x10) All to the visible man-show-eye of your record collection, And the screeching of a once young head full of math. It's one hundred miles an hour from the swings To the pungent ugly honey of a dead thing Lastability of skulls Lastability of subjects (X2) No one rushed the first fish to crawl For their more modern introductions to the egg. Pause: Is a bone an egg? The lastability of skulls The lastability of subjects (X3) The lastability of skulls (That sort of nonsense) The lastability of subjects (A light: That sort of thing) (X4) The lastability of skulls (That sort of nonsense) How long, how long, how long? How long (x10)