Highways gleam with two kinds of mica
as Burma Shave boasts, I have lives like a cat
Taking heed of the exits that exist for my money
I stock up on earthworms, making protein from fat
—America Coming Undone
Now I am but a lowly boy who will die all alone
with a knife in my heart, and my heart in my hand.
Dishonorable foes bellow I never got punished;
but I formed the rock in this world built of sand.
Have you ever felt a temporal lobe explode
when you learn your sons are not your own?
—Are You Kidding Me, Bruuuce?