He's got a dirtstache sharper than thumbtacks, penny whistle legs for when you played him back- all the tapes hissing worse than the geese, we're at the poetry slam, Jen's lisp written down I can't help but laugh, I can't help but laugh.

To be the youngest mast in a marina of laugh-lines, to be a shady patch in the field at lunch-time.

The lost pigmentation of my imagination

-Is flying first class and soon will be back blowing penny whistle legs, skating the cul-de-sac, so my old tapes are hissing worse than the geese, we're at the poetry slam, Jen's lisp loud and proud, I can't help but laugh, I can't help but laugh.