pragma is so cool

she's shaded, and she's well past the blast radious - she don't have to worry
pragma is so cool, she don't care

i will laugh at her, i will beat her into the ground
i will walk away, when she resurrects, and smites my ghost
i'll laugh, she won't hear or understand the ghost house, the
fifth ghost house on the donut plains
and i'll laugh again, i'll laugh
and not care

i will chew granola in the interim
and no reconciliatory attempt could dissuade me
from my divine apathy, even the sublime revelation
that apathy is fundamentally common, in an uncommonly filthy way
like the zen exercise that went bad, that stunk like gym socks
like what is filthy, the fungus, the teeming microscopic parasites
or the way the sock is hanging from the foot, exposing a good portion
of ankle, ankle exposure, tittilating

and i'm going on a poor man's nod, a pabst nod, and everyone's fucked up, and everyone's drinking on the job, and justifying their drinking with a wink and a nod, and keeping the sinking economy at half-balast for another day, another bail-out, it's the prime mover, what keeps, best before 2012