we love our step-daughters, we lick our bowls clean,
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we wipe our slates and turn our cheeks.
we contact our pharmacies with the
surrounding our heads like tiny gnats
flying birds of egotism spawning
that unnecessary tone.
i picked this cuntry? i picked
you? i, the fucked soul of suburbia,
the mass among mobs oozing like molasses past
i, the punctured amniotic sac, underdeveloped
and without lungs i picked i
i get down on my knees like my memphis twin
and i pray i pray oh i
i, the mantis, i eat my young.
in this cuntry we are clean, we are unseen
we are mean we are lean we are keen
we are correct we object we object we
i live and eat this cuntry
i fuck and walk this cuntry
i make and move this cuntry
in this cuntry we are clean
we are clean
we are clean.