Luulis että jossain vaiheessa
Se eloton massa sikoutuis vittuun sieltä
Oravanpyörän väleistä
Mutta ei
Siellä se lilluu
Mukana lotisee
Hahmoton kritiikitön massa
(Jossain vaiheessa keikahtaa
Vähän lasissa läikähtää)
Ja missä se paska nyt pyöris
Ellei oman akselinsa ympärillä
Siellä missä kiima lipoo
Tärkättyjä kauluksia
Taskut tyhjiksi kupattuina
Puolet on vanhaa
Puolet kusta
------------------------------------
(The Zipper Counter)
Transilluminated
A visitor in the crowd
Counting zippers
Transilluminated
In a dance contest
Go to sleep in a rubber suit
Open a bag of potato chips
The wailing of a blue whale
Lost in an aquarium
Transilluminated
In a garden chair
Tires leaking
The throwing arm feels sore
Those waxed until blind
Those fed until blind
Transilluminated
Counting zippers
You'd think there would come a point
When the lifeless mass would get slung the fuck out of the ratrace
But no, there it floats
An amorphous, uncritical mass
(Sometimes tipping, spilling over a little)
And what would shit revolve around
If not its own axis
Where the heat licks starched collars
Pockets drained empty
One half old
One half piss
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