To the wilderness I wander.
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
as though the wounds of countless wars;
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
My cycle-clips in awkward reverence,
That's made America the land it has become.
Where it pours bean green over blue
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
to torture and confound you,
To the wilderness I wander.
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
as though the wounds of countless wars;
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
My cycle-clips in awkward reverence,
That's made America the land it has become.
Where it pours bean green over blue
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
to torture and confound you,