TWO stars? Weirdos.
Stampede on the Western border
Of our simple hollow land
Our heliums are causing games
Although the games are lower
This nonsense that pervades
Pervertedly reversing cause
And effect, and our home
Is not whether it's in order
Or if it's peat or sand
Stealing life or sybiosing
Or making pupaes for our hands
Our suns make shadow masses
Of the butterflies that come
All their big-small feetsies
Making pained their way to
Fill up our space and
Kill us all
And pile into
Hills that
Chill the sunless
Dirtpile
Where we stand
Of our simple hollow land
Our heliums are causing games
Although the games are lower
This nonsense that pervades
Pervertedly reversing cause
And effect, and our home
Is not whether it's in order
Or if it's peat or sand
Stealing life or sybiosing
Or making pupaes for our hands
Our suns make shadow masses
Of the butterflies that come
All their big-small feetsies
Making pained their way to
Fill up our space and
Kill us all
And pile into
Hills that
Chill the sunless
Dirtpile
Where we stand