In some malls there rests a store
with front adorned by smiling bears.
Do not be fooled! For at its core
amidst tufts of fluffy, cuddly gore
Build-A-Bear spawns plush nightmares.
Armies of limb and eye and knee
the heads of cubs impaled on sticks
shout, "Choose me! Hear me! Stuff me! Fluff me!
Take this shit and shove it up me."
What sadistic fuck approved of this?
Were you to ask, and ask you should
What paves the road to hell -
I'd say demonic whispers, intentions good,
fires that burn unfueled by wood,
and bits of bears that couldn't sell.
The idea of dark?
just nothingness? life devoid?
Is the fucking worst.
You might be familiar with my irrational fear
of Indiana, its people and places.
Well, most of you don't live so near
to see the state's hidden faces.
In regards to legitimate reason, there's none
excepting eyes of ice and faux humility,
those voices chill and monotone,
long roads that stretch into sterility.
It depresses, you know, it just fucking does,
it's all barren, industrial horseshit, or both.
You wish it better than it last was
But keep driving through there, swearing oath:
Just passing through, not stopping by
you motherfuckers won't take me alive.
Sometimes when people speak Spanish
the spaces between their words vanish
rapid verbal succession
when foreign's a weapon
and I nervously shirk and feel mawkish.
People get eye surgery
because they are crazy
and they think it'll help them see better.
But they seem to forget
(this is the part I don't get)
the evilness of this procedure:
I'm talking death rays and plasma rifles and electro-artillery
used by villains in movies like Moonraker,
because you think you're correcting
while consciously neglecting
the fact that YOUR EYES ARE BEING SLICED WITH A LASER.