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thought industry – love is america spelled backwards (jim grace version) lyrics

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“my girlfriend and i are quite poor. so we crash funeral gatherings for the free food
h-ll, everybody’s so busy crying and consoling; they don’t even notice us in the coatroom pillaging their clothes and purses
it’s too bad that you can’t run very far on an orbiting sp-ce colony.”
i) garden greenroom, battle creek funeral simulation
type writehead collide
tap tap paper tie
prolific benign. fill me throat cheap rye
i breathe a funeral foyer
me with glue girl margaret
now she’s kissing me

we drink gin till we can’t see
pâté brunch for symposium
pink balloons drape the coffins
it reads no systole
i spill scotch on the body
sh-t smile prom night
rational hick life
self-hypnosis guide
exuberance lactize
i hear a song on the radio
so i spit on the dial
now she’s kissing me
we snort scotch till we’re plastic
there’s a gimp with a yo-yo who say’s pepsi owns tokyo
he says pardon me
let’s bury the body
hey, hey let’s drive to the grave
now our cars are a g-y parade
he says, “hey, hey
let’s drive to the grave
we’ll bury meat on a rainy day.”
human landfill
i trip to walk
margaret hands me a librium, i say “thanks for the confidence
” now she’s kissing me, my flask of chaska’s empty
i stumble up to the podium, and push down the reverend
they’ll yell, “eulogy”
so i p-ss out on the body
hey, hey fill in the grave
shovel mud on a deity
i say, “hey, hey
fill in the grave, then steal the collection tray
pack some mud on the pious meat
pack some mud on uncle sam
god bless the grime