Woo Woo Now Jazz Hands

No tarp on the chalkline out in the storm. How do you get back from crazy? And is it suggestive, like comedy, the quality of pain? I don't really care what I think either, stay yourself. Not like that. Animals are a gauge of our kind or mean, I think we're mostly, not, except those who are, and I'm only saying I can't say anything, because we have it so good, so fucking, good and sad. You can call it whatever you want working out as way to remember picking crop to survive, sharecropping a crushing succession of annoying alarms, bag and badge checks, up or out neckties, power suits, and calves of the finest low melanin gene stock, shoes of the youngest, fattest calf, gate and glass to hide behind, you never making a showing but my how, do you wear that role; they'll never know I didn't mean the 2 l's thing, what else could it mean? Except as an accident; peripheral flit.