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