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The ginger bread man, do you understand?
Clouds are falling, clowns
The rise of the garrison of the, the sun’s son is eminent, sure
The firmament needs reinforcement and a gun on Harrison and DeKorte
Outbuildings are burning, Othello and the black ram turning short
Why are you standing over there?
With three little birds licking lollipops with Iago
One two…
One two three they burp cargo, their farting words worse than it is art
Parting the partition of the ones and twos
Now do you understand, the ginger-bread-man, man?
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