Sail,
you to me,
on your broken leg in the open sea.
See a whale while he's gazing there
and wond'ring what's in the air.
He ponders over it
while we twitch and gnit
like ratta-tats out a thinking gun,
or water drops on a broken drum.
I know where you stand
so I'll shake you with my broken hand.
But I won't shake you hard
cause you're just a baby, not a guard,
and that would just be mean.
I'm the green machine,
woman. Play me with your girlish
and I do the things you wish.
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