Feast of the Mau Mau

Cut the fat off the back of a bare wound, boil it down to a pound and get a spoon. Scoop the air from a fly, flying backwards. Take the jaws and the balls off the wound.

Take your time, high-line, for good cooking. Because the rest of this mess ain't good looking. Take the fleas from the knees of our demons. Tell your powers that you get us. What comes screaming in the mama's Of their blow the house for whose things Goose-toned, double-supe,

for mass-finity Hit the beat!