This is the voice of Champagne, Anarchy, Populism, and Chaos
It's not good enough being good,
These am the words of wise and a technological dream come bad and come tom.
Tear down the monuments of the metamorphosis business The town hall clock face cop is huffin' an' puffin on my rail and I'm losing all of my patience.
I'm going to give the whole world a big line of ice and watch the cracks appear in the serpentine eggshell head, for science.
In an instant I'll travel the length and breadth of time jaw with Saturn up on the bridge to a new age, bear his silent scream as I stretch him and fold him like so much dough. I live in a boarding kennel called The Great between It's wallpapered with flowers and I pass hours writing letters home 'Dear John, I have been delivered'. I'm in Smashtime! I can smell the round of rich men They're grinding the camel down, Down to a powder so fine They're Bring that powder I that used-be-camel round a 56km Particle accelerator (Aside: stright through the eye of a needle) and its putting it back together again I'm in Smashtime
At the moment it comes nut like reconstituted potato but in time it'll be the ship that carries me out of this whole desert of freedom
I'm in Smashtime
Then I'm going to punch the clock-watchers one mile and push them one mile more than they ask me.
All the way up to the head of the Ole River Mississippi. I'm in Smashtime!
I'm halfway into, between the double and the bone, between going on and stopping at the now
Between the cradle and the hole, I'm invented myself a Time-Gun.
I'm in Smashtime
These am thoughts I Chairman John Hyatt on a bus to Sheffield sometime in the no future with my Inside out and my outside in in a beehive of possibilities. Make sure they don't fall into the wrong hands now! Y'hear?
