Pop Song

Two, three
I can’t do it without
Go
It’s the wood man and his splintering self
It’s the wooden woman and her hollowing out
Sickly Mickey Mouse
Skinny Minnie Mouse
Elvis, what happened?
Pop/sickle note:
The label stapled a speaker
To the back of a sheep’s throat
Tongue depressor with
The width of a spatula
Suppresses all syllables:
«blah blah blah», end quote
Cotton candy… spun any way you like it
Elvis, what happened?
High school picture day in L.A.,
Someone in the sky with diamonds
And you go back to bed
With a dead dog in your head
Two perfect strangers carrying a ladder
You can tell their strangers
Chasing themselves in the windows of shops
How can I be your lover
When you sport a head of rubber?
Sucker…
You can’t take applause to bed with you
I’ve got my own blood
And a decent depression line
And then we said «fuck» in our pop song
Hi kiddies
Well, we’re cramping and sweating and groaning with the rest of them
Is that all?
Well, I’ll try and give you that dope that you were talking about
We’ve already wrecked about three records trying to perfect one
First sounded like we were talking in a thrashing machine
And then one thing or another
So maybe this thing isn’t gonna turn out alright
These records are sure the real mccoy
Your voices sounded so real on the last one
I almost caught myself answering back a couple of times
Well I’ll see ya soon
Send another record if you have one
Being here is sure swell
We’re gonna be on our vacation in
Hello? who is this?