WHO'S IT GONNA' BE?
Have you carried a treasure in your steeplechase locket,
the one your grandfather gave you? It is dangling somewhere
between your breasts. Oh sacred, amorous one. Oh misshapen
lover of a million things. Here is the hammer with which Thor
conquered his Heaven - or whatever He did with however He
did it. It makes little reason now, or sense. By that reasoning
we are only extras anyway. The man who claimed to be God
has already given his names to all things. By those standards,
we are all gone, one by one and one at a time. It will be,
it will be, well, who's it gonna' be next?
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