We Are Morphing Into Zebras

Vernacular Substrates and mismatched informants
Have all gathered here for this very performance
The men will compute the machine it will bleed
And all of the dust and the grime will come clean
Freeze frame sunken eyes on Black’s vanishing spies
Lou’s scratching the wall, Neil’s drying his eyes
All of this and so much more you will see
When you show at the door no later than three
With your sister, your brother, your child or your lover
We charge one eye but oh what you’ll see with the other