Crack me open and fill me with crack.
The ghetto is a broke soft-soled shoe.
And look out for heavy editing.
They say numbers don't lie,
Except when the numbers go against the grain.
I'm going to pad my bra
And I'm going to clap overloudly and overlongly.
And I'll do my damndest to annoy the piss and wine right out of ya.
I will not vote.
Why should I tell those engulfed in flame that they are on fire?
There is no safety in numbers,
There is no power.
We are not la Neustra Senora de Atocha nor la Amistad,
And we are not Mel Fisher nor slaves.
We just lie on our bellies in springs and rivers,
Hoping beyond hope that we don't end up feeding birds and spiders.
So let me scare the hell and wine right out of ya.