FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

San Francisco celebrates World Series victory by enacting police state


Tin soldiers and Nixon's comin',
We're finally on our own,
This summer I hear the drummin',
Can't show my sloppy Joe...
***
Hello, Hefner, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again...
***
We don't need no titilation,
We don't need no clothes control,
No dark sarcasm in the change room,
Hey, nudists! Leave the streets alone!
***
Mama put my skin in the ground,
I can't wear it anymore...
***
Come gather ‘round boomers where'er you disrobe,
And see how the waistlines around you have grown…
          For your tush, it is disgustin'



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