[DARKWEENA lays her acoustic guitar down ‘pon her lap but keeps singing, knocking out a little rhythm on the chock of the instrument. Her hair—golden braids woven in with shodtgrass—bounces against her leather breastplate as she hollers and coos.]
Well there is a crystal shittiness
to my world, Burl
But it’s not the kind I’d cry about
Nah, naw, nah!
& I’m late for Nature’s Pyramid
But not so late I’ll cry, Papa
Naw, nah, now!
It’s a shitty moistened wrinkle-bean
But Hollywood’s got my paws…all…
all up in a crutch!
And a ladle’s worth’s got value now
In the French saloon
And Crick’s Esopus streams
are runnin down my mouth!
So if you’re not home and I’m not home
Up upon the corners
of my dry parched homely mouth!
Then sexy-times are boring-times
Momma Lee-Anne Rimes
Oh Shivering shit get frozen in
That tundra called the South!
So wrap a beefsteak warm and tight
Momma Every night
Till the campers all feel Darwin’s wrath
When they Doin it to each other!
It’s a sexy farce-borne camping trip
And I hate it
And yr friends are rutting and rubbing and foaming
Till the French Saloon’s ablaze!
So dunk your gore-tex dramamines
into the river beans
And soak my hominy homily summatime suckabrace face
…Till the end of time!