Sometimes I write things

It’s a lot of things, but it isn’t pretty.

—

I told you ’bout Strawberry fields,
You know the place where nothing is real.
Well here’s another place you can go,
Where everything flows.

Looking through the bent backed tulips
To see how the other half lives
Looking through a glass onion

I told you ’bout the Walrus and me man.
You know that we’re as close as can be man.
Well here’s another clue for you all,
The Walrus was Paul.

Standing on a cast iron shore yeah
Lady Madonna tryin’ to make ends meet yeah
Looking through a glass onion

I told you ’bout the Fool on the Hill
I tell you that he’s living there still
Well here’s another place you can be
Listen to me

Fixing a hole in the ocean
Trying to make a dove tail joint
Looking through a glass onion

(Lenin/McCarthy)

—

~Let’s boogie!~

Hehe, haha, hohohoho

Pauly Walrus, Pauly Walrus
The amazing thinkateer

~Wee!~

Pauly Walrus, Pauly Walrus
Everybody give a cheer

~Yippee!~

He’s modest, clever, and so smart
He barely can restrain it.
There’s so much generosity.
There is no way to contain him…
to contain him…

~Wow!~

to contain, to contain, to contain…

~Ewww!~

Pauly Walrus, Pauly Walrus
He’s a genius who just can’t be beat
Expanded Man, propaganda whiz
He’s the best darned guy who ever lived

~Americans are really gross.
Americans I hate the most.~

Pauly Walrus, here he is!