I wanted a deep root,
I summoned a high key.
I decided on a red lacquer,
And cleared just a cluster of bodies.

I hadn’t seen anything bound for glory
From my neighborhood’s fertile field,
So in fifteen months time
I discreetly checked out.

Until now, I had never said, ‘Let me see,
Now, seriously, I am a little disappointed.
You know I am.

But I’m a dead genius,
And a mutilated Columbian,
And a true descendent of the Big Chief,
And a viper’s nest (cleared).

A strange minute of freedom
And Security.
An ache of four-thousand fevered princes
And Mercy.

I wanted those glass windows,
I don’t think I’m the average collector.
I have not heard from the Reserve,
But I know I’m on the program.

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