The incantation flowers Behind the cell wall Under the auburn full-cloud cover Behind the blinking lids Beneath the perfect face of our kitsch Beneath... The hot-blooded verse oscillates From blood and bone scaffolding Opposite the "I" in team That Gutenberg's lip The incantation implodes And MGM goes bankrupt For there are no negroes this way Only banished seminoles Haitian generals For the clean mask of basic minerals Shamans giving day-laborers deeds to neighboring moons Cradled by the eye of Horus Where the written word cannot exist Yes Casting directors are lambasted by broad double-meanings And they take to the data stream binary Amidst the guts And dog-eared re-issues of Mein Kampf Are the executive lounge Where every moral is up for review Unscripted dialogue roars from the sphincters of power brokers Equating your drinking age with that of the Iron Age As if, as if... As if the gold flecks were made in The embryotic swill But they are not It was just you It was you and I You and I Dancing in the hail Of Modernity's mandate