whip out the sophistry module
it's all I got in my satchel besides
your old flask, which lately
has stopped murmuring to me

yeah, baby. you're killing them
whirling through the room like a tardy
ballon, low and tired. I can't
tell you what I want to say

but I'll buy you the words. five, say.
line 'em up. you flay them too much
I know, it's what makes the drinks
go down so clear. fear and sex played

out on a screen is what makes
this country go.
don't get petulant about it.
now smarten up