Boundaries, boundaries, I'm going to cry, did you know, a lot of you, look like worms wriggling, it’s like you don’t know, what feels good, as above so below, it may not even be what you can think of, pigs, crane your heads, snakes, and ravens, preying on the dead, I'm sorry, like Bill Clinton, the president, how great, you can only fuck what’s around you, maybe it’s possible to settle down there, as the river flows, near the Mississippi, do salmon climb it naturally, it all connects, it may be gross, to fuck your dad, but if it aligns with the heavens, who can argue with that?

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