Happy Fathers’ Day. The hours melt away.
Only two more left to sell these cards.
Door to door we’ll go,
knocking, don’t you know,
selling reminiscence and its shards.
And it’s Daddy, Daddy-Oh.
How I love you, head to toe.
Your boots are just the fruits
of love’s sweet stand.
Your seed made me what I am,
schizophrenic and, god-damn,
now I’m playing
in an anarchistic band.
Crash the government.
Bury in cement.
Wash the old world
down the unfurled path.
Come out living clean
in the new world scene,
let the dirty bastards
take a bath.