Steel Popovers.


Your editing is quite
Well done and so black and so white
Quick and drums with whizzing
Visuals make my balls
Ache because your car calls
For men to get off their ass and truly
Be the men they ought to be

And my life has no drums or
Slick cuts or plasticlever analogs

But somehow I'd pay a great deal
To watch you drive quick and heel your stupid vehicles
Over a cliff, smashed into heaps of folded piles
Of brushed-metal death, scattered pastrybrain nodes,
Shiny emerods
Offered to the gods.