Each strand of her hair Is really insect eyes And each hole in her tongue Is always occupied By the milk of the sun

And because my teeth don't bite, I can take them out dancing I can take my little teeth out and show them a real good time

Little yellow spider, laughing at the snow. Maybe that spider knows something i don't know, 'cause i'm goddamn cold.

And hey there little sexy pig, you made it with a man And now you've got a little kid with hooves instead of hands.

Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen; Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook.

The charming landscape which I saw this morning, is indubitably made up of some twenty or thirty farms. Miller owns this field, Locke that, and Manning the woo…

And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds, His belly close to ground. I see the blade, Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade