1999 poetry
poetry from 1999 by matthew mcquilkin


Can't specifically express true feelings
Can't seem to see the tops of the buildings
Can't even tell if this is a nightmare
The bridge it ends it ends right there
Sitting in a chair in front of a window
Supposed to be water out there is it there
In a state of mind where nobody knows
Supposedly heat will turn up now tell them how
Tell them now
Tell the walls to stop disappearing
Wake up now
This is a sleep without dreams in the morning
Ice in towels
It has a strange way of conjuring reality
Turning bowels
Time has a way of twisting vitality

Fog over eyes can bring panic inside
Fog over water can be cool relief
Fog over windows can toss direction aside
Fog over houses can shape all belief

Can't exactly repress false notions
Look over there prove that's not the ocean
Can't even tell if this is a daydream
The day it ends with the jet stream
Laying in a bed beside a brand new wall
Supposed to be humid outside is that why
In a state of mind where fantasy calls
Supposedly rain will come down now who'll allow
Show them now
Show the windows they can be wiped clear
Snap out now
This is a sleep without dream with great fear
Look around
This is a strange day for brand new limited vision
Lost and found
Space has a fine way of making indecision

Fog over ears can mute sensibility
Fog over fire can be burning blind
Fog behind closed doors changes ability
Fog over these hills leaves valleys behind
Fog sucked in lungs can congest air traffic
Fog in the wind can be blown away
Fog over runway can be a little hectic
Fog over skyline can be price to pay

Pull the elevator to the top
Look over clouds which cover crop
Take the stairs down to the basement
Try and pry open encasement

Up and down a smile and frown
In hot and cold with young and old
Fog settles and lifts as meddling gifts . . .

It all depends on the temperature
Of what comes out of the mouth.

("copywrite" 4:42 p.m. tuesday december 28 1999)


Where would I be without my friends?
I would be driving on a dead end
Where would I be without my friends?
I’d fall into the wall and do it again
and again and again and again . . .
What would I do without each of you?
I could not know what’s right and true
What would I do, would I do without you?
well without you what would I do . . .

And I love everybody
Yeah I love everybody . . .
Well I love everybody
That’s right, I said I love everybody
But you are all people I actually like

All I ever wanted was to make a difference
And look at me here that’s no coincidence
I am a special kind of wonderful
Thanks to all of you
I am a certain type of beautiful
Thanks to each and every one of you

What more could I ask for?

I need an agent!
I need a studio!
I need a goddam producer!
This fucking sucks!
But I sing it with my heart
I sing it from my heart

You don’t think I’m asking too much?
Why don’t you throw in a dermatologist while you’re at it?

Come on, cut me some slack!
I have a good heart on the attack
I really have talent, I do I swear!
Just because you can’t hear it
Doesn’t mean it isn’t there . . .

You should at least be thankful
That I love everybody
Yes I love everybody
And you are all people I actually like
I am a special kind of wonderful
Thanks to all of you
I am a certain type of beautiful
Thanks to each and every one of you . . .

There’s a fine line between
Confidence and arrogance
Either way,
I am fantastic.
Thank you very much.

(“copywrite” 7:24 p.m. sunday december 19 1999)


You are not my Sunday
You don’t leave me dreading
What’s to come
You keep me from betting
When we’re done

You are not my Monday
Not just another beginning
You become my underpinnings
As I’m telling

You are not my Tuesday
Too late to start over
That’s not you
Procrastinate favors
I have more than that for you

You are not my Wednesday
You’re not just another hump
For me to get over
Well I am not one to jump
Into the middle

You are not my Thursday
So stressful and hectic for me
It’s a long way
You don’t mean this to me
It’s a long day

You are not my Friday
Fridays I get lonely
You’d never do that to me
Fridays don’t inspire me
You’re always inspiration . . .

You are my Saturday
You are my relief
At the end of yesterday
You are my anticipation
Of a tomorrow I can handle
You are my Saturday
You are my good rest
At the end of the latest section in time
You are all I look forward to
In the seconds
In the minutes
In the hours
In the days
That are still to come
In the weeks
In the months
In the years
In the decades
That are still to come--

(“copywrite” 6:40 p.m. tuesday november 2 1999)


My eyes will open as the sun comes up
Feline attention is my first step
And that’s what makes me happy

Everyday things they never ask me why
My routine walks under morning sky
And that’s what makes me happy

There’s an energy here that infiltrates me
This is a city that invigorates me
And that’s what makes me happy

Every week there’s more than forty hours
When I get paid to increase my power
And that’s what makes me happy

I’ve been so lucky to have all these things
There is no end what I get from my friends
And that’s what makes me happy

This is a bliss that is just a sampling
Of the richness I got from my family
And that’s what makes me happy

There’s a kind of music to everything
So I listen and I play and I sing
And that’s what makes me happy

Writing down emotion is how I gain
A sense of ease so I pick up a pen
And that’s what makes me happy

Any way to express my creativity
Is a way to lose more naiveté
And that’s what makes me happy

Today how I perceive human beauty
No secret I’m out and it’s my duty
And that’s what makes me happy

Whether boy or girl or attached to cocks
I won’t fit in anyone else’s box
And that’s what makes me happy

I expect wonderful things to happen
And so then it consistently happens
And that’s what makes me happy

(“copywrite” 9:40 p.m. friday september 3 1999)

Jealous Forgiveness

Open your mind
You open your mind
To faithlessness
A faithfulness unchecked
Until now I had no reason
To suspect
But you disappear when you are still here
And my trust is pawned while you are gone
I do what I want and I talk to who I please
And I forgive your jealousy

Innocent souls
When they lose control
Of expression
An expression repressed
Until now I had such reasons
Not to fuss
But now you hate when I look away
And I get attacked when my eyes come back
I go where I want and I see who I please
And I’m forgiving jealousy

What the jealous
Well what the jealous
Can forgive is
A forgiveness immense
Until now I have felt nothing
So intense
‘Cause I come around and you lose that frown
And I come to you and then you come too
I give you your wants so you kiss what you please
And I forgive your jealousy

For the last time
It’s for the last time
Emotionally stripped
Until now you had to reason
To be kept
But you fret and moan when I am not home
And you screen the calls from mice in the walls
You have noble wants as vile as you please
And I’m forgiving jealousy

These are rivals
Vanishing rivals
From this day on
From this day on they’re gone
Until now they had no reason
To return
But you invent more and call me a whore
And you cut your tooth on this clearly truth
Accuse what you want and point where you please
And I forgive your jealousy

This day forward
From this day forward
Causing problems
Causing problems endless
Until now I had no reason
To digress
But we see tangents in what is not meant
And we dance on eggs while you do still beg
“Disregard your wants and desires please”
And I’m still forgiving jealousy . . .

Then I break the rules
When I realize your invention of rivals
I’m not such a fool as to read your Bible
So I smash your dreams
And your fantasies of exclusivity
What does it mean all your sensitivity?

I don’t want an end
Of anything we managed to establish
The jealous will never understand that which
Still haunts them more so
I just want to move on without your witness
And now you’re so jealous of my forgiveness

Yet among you are
Men of noble hearts so remarkable now
But you go so far as to blame and I’m full now
What am I to do
When it’s too much and I would no more give then
Now I feel it too jealous forgiveness

The shameful depths
To which you voluntarily sank
Has infected both of us
And this is the stink that will always taint us

(This snail does escape me)
(All hail Dostoevsky)

(“copywrite” 4:19 p.m. friday september 3 1999)


Fire, fire
Racing up the spire
Through the center of the spine
Flying, flying
Gravity stopped trying
And the ground was left behind
Wings grew and you flew
Through the heat she emanated
Through the heat so concentrated
The heat became yours
And you smoked with passion
The heat became yours
And time stopped passing

Consume yourself in fire
Feel see touch taste
Smell the beautiful warmth
Immerse yourself in flames
Bake char singe glow
Burn for the heavenly form
Creates an infinite minute
There was always value in it

Surprise can make you manic
Time is always schizophrenic
Still moving on . . .

Ashes, ashes
Dust of lust in wind
Always blowing round again
Plunging crashes
In gravity’s revenge
For another lover’s binge
Lovers come and lovers go
Out of ashes under the snow
Through the cold she created
The cold became yours
And you chilled disentranced
The cold became yours
And the ice became dense

You need to swim in water
Eat grab snatch drink
Flee the desert you now know
Immerse yourself in streams
Dive dip wade bathe
It’s not mirage if you say so
The ground was firm from which to launch
On the wings of more than a hunch

Deja vu can come from circles
All you know prevents a buckle
You’re moving on . . .

Consume yourself in fire
You will rise renewed
This will make you tired
Of all that you review
But every circle changes
And that’s where excitement begins
Again and again
Wings of a different color
Arch of a different type
Remembering the others
Feeds into the hype

There’s always another future
To remember . . .

You won’t always mean the same thing
You’re not a hieroglyph
Yes it seems like five hundred years
But no this isn’t Egypt

It’s time for you to be
Yet another Phoenix

(“copywrite” 7:40 p.m. tuesday august 23 1999)


I am not a woman
I am not a man
I am something
You don’t understand
You try to understand
As I walk by
And you ask me blatantly
What am I
Have to wonder
Can you handle it
I am genderless

I am the sum of years
From birth until now
I am the walking fear
Of what choice allows

I choose to embrace
What I always was
And so my face does what it does
I am adhesive to memory
Good or bad it’s all of me
Such an extremist naturally
These are movements I won’t change
Swinging arms go where they may
What I’ll take as compliment
This is posture permanent
I can’t make your sense

I am the sum of years
Of birth canals
I am the walking fear
Of what fate allows

I have eyes that turn your head
Such surprises still ahead
I have fingers that seem wrong
I have ears that can see taste
I can tell who comes along
I can smell a pile of waste
How many times must I break suspension
How long must I pay attention
Blue and pink are not my colors
Neither are any of the others
Neither are any others . . .

I am the sum of years
In which I grow
I am the walking fear
Of what nature knows

I am not a man
I am not a woman
I am something
On a wall climbing
On all that I’m finding
Definitions relevance
What do you
Have to wonder
Can I manage it
I am genderless

I am the sum of years
Of learning how
I am the walking fear
Of what time allows

I have organs with a designated purpose
I regard them with knowledge in surplus
But some potential allies still don’t understand
Why I must insist
With my eyes and with my hands
Such discomfort runs amok
Regardless of all that I never touch

Still I must embrace the essence of me
Until everyone can see
The matter of fact simplicity
I will not abandon this
I cannot abandon this
I am genderless

(“copywrite” 9:49 p.m. sunday august 22 1999)

Contradictory Dreams

The cuts in my arms won’t bleed
But they hurt like hell
This is a dark machine
Taking me nowhere that I can tell
Who are these two men
Fighting over what to do with me
When will he slice again
Keeping track of all my screams

It’s a bird outside

This is a home I’ve never seen
And a neighbor I’ve never known
Tells me how he feels about queers
Till I am a bird that’s flown
High as I have ever dreamed
On the rooftops, through the trees
Somehow I learn to let go
Somehow I do more than grow

No I will not hide

One night I scream, the next I fly
More than it seems, I’m not sure why
What does all of this mean?
Only I can tell me . . .
Time slows down while I am sleeping
Open my eyes and it’s a blink of a night
I hear sounds while I am dreaming
Vaguely remembered in the coming light

Images are what cling to me
Houses, trees, wires razors
Spaceships, gods, serenity
And then sexual frustrations
It’s a kind of constipation
Happiness divided
Settling decided
All of this has to do with reality . . .

That much I can see

Here I am
Training my memory
Here I am
Living on summaries
There you are
Many people in my dreams
Where you are
All depends on how I see

Who the hell are you

Who the hell am I

Trying to decipher
My contradictory dreams
Who are you and what is that
And what is that and who are you
What does it mean
What do you mean
Who do you mean
It all comes down to me
It all comes down to me

Are these my dualities
Feeling great and feeling mean
Can my subconscious reconcile
To be obnoxious not my style
But I embrace change
And it broadens range
My framework lost its frame
And nothing’s ever the same
If my eyes are closed or open
Tornadoes in my psyche
Things I’m trying to tell me
Are less and less decipherable
Since I have no disciples
I need to listen to me . . .

Where am I going

I have yet to dream of roads
Yet to dream of fire
I simply keep flying, flying at will
And I never get tired,
Never get tired in my dreams . . .
Even the bad ones never kill me . . .
Facing an uncertain future
Has its own kind of beauty

Maybe that’s what I’m trying to tell me.

(“copywrite” 8:01 a.m. friday august 20 1999)


Time has taken me hostage
I am its appendage
It hurls me around day by day
On a linear plane that won’t go away
Until it comes full circle
So I forget to breathe
And I look for windows
But I just sit and seethe
‘Cause I cannot find my mantra
Till I find myself by the sea
And tranquility lands at my feet

Hustle and bustle was always my muscle
But goddam, this is a little much
I need to back up but I have no reverse
I lost the stick while trying to converse
Kicking and screaming I’ll find peace if it kills me
It’s already here just swimming around me
Where did life go where did my mind go
This is far too fulfilling for me to handle

Too much, too much, I have too much of much
And I have no time to find a place to be touched
How can I provide the world with updates
When the patterns of the past
Are matters of the past
I finally got that window open
And structure leapt through

So whatever is meant to be
Will manifest itself before me

Now that I’m so open to change
Predictability wanes
But how often will I see these manifestations?
How can I look past these new complications

Of which there are so many
Always accompanies me
All of this so uncanny
Is always somewhere near me
Where do I need to turn my head
Has to lie in more places than
The pillow placed upon my bed
Like the park by the lake
And the summer breeze
Someone tell me when to close
My eyes and go with the flow
Is always all around me
How can I reach out and touch
Sacrifice of commitments, that is the key . . .

It will happen some day
One day soon:

(“copywrite” 9:30 p.m. tuesday august 17 1999)

Let Go

The good news is the money stays
The bad news is I have to think this way
The good news is my mother’s in one piece
The bad news is the kitchen’s expired lease
The good news is Vancouver’s on the way
The bad news is may have to cut a day
The good news is my dad’s unprecedence
The bad news is monetary again
The good news is a new friend has arrived
The bad news is we’re lucky to survive
The good news is an old friend can confide
The bad news is his mind cannot abide
The good news is my luck it does ensue
The bad news is my life is so consumed
The good news is my future has a sun
The bad news is SPF forty-one . . .

My mind has always been on hyperdrive
I whine that I just never have the time
I think too much about all these many things
And I hover on the brink of overdrive
Slipping a cog, losing a wit
Forgetting to acknowledge that I could ever quit
Any one thing, any cutbacks
I can only see what I have to attack

The good news is, the bad news is
I’ve got to let it go
The good news is, the bad news is
I have to let it show
The good news is, the bad news is
I have to let me know
The good news is, the bad news is
I’ve got to let it go

When I find a life-consuming job I love
I graduate to workaholism
When I discover new dedications
I’m overwhelmed and want medications
Affiliate prisms shining blinding
False assurances I just can’t take
I think I’ll just stay tired
Maybe I’ll take up meditation
If I can find the endangered time
And in the meantime
I hear the good news, I hear the bad news
And I write down all of this news
It’s what I do and I am spent
But I hold myself to my commitments

Fantastic news! I know who I am
Wonderful news! I know what I can
Horrible news can try to prove me wrong
Terrible news can fuck up my plans
Excellent news is what I live for
Fabulous news is what I had all along
Incredulous news never did us any good
Really bad news is all I can’t avoid . . .
Incredible news can put me to the floor
Really good news is all I ever wanted . . .

The bad news is, the good news is
I’ve got to let it go
The bad news is, the good news is
I have to let it show
The bad news is, the good news is
I have to let me know
The bad news is, the good news is
I need to let it go
The good news is I know
I’ve got to let go
Let go
Let go
Let go!

(“copywrite” 7:29 pm saturday july 17 1999)


This is the grid the bid the piece the peace
Is where we hid the lid the price of nice
So close in tight let’s try the fit of wit
Try not to hit the split and try the why
Why don’t we move the groove and pass the class
And here we go we know we’ll find our minds
We’ll fit somewhere a pair become just one . . .

Every single one of us
Is part of a unified whole
Every single runner up
Has heart of equal karat gold
Some are on a corner
Some are in the middle
Some are different colors
Some are big or little
Even the pieces of the sky
They all have a different hue
All the pieces here applied
They were made with the same glue . . .

Here is a hug so snug the heat complete
There is a tug so smug when loot is moot
And so I shoot my foot when I lose my shoes
There on the floor by door I strain in vain
Until I see this tree with leaves of green
Piece in the hole I told you will be filled
Everything clear my tears come in again
We are all here our fears become as none

Every single one of us
Is part of a unified whole
Every single crack erupts
Just to state a common goal
Some are on the edges
Some are on the inside
Some are made of hedges
Some are three fence posts wide
Even pieces of the sky
They all have a different hue
All the pieces here confide
In a snippet of overall view . . .
Every single one of us
We all have a different hue
Every single minor fuss
Just tightens the grip of glue
Some are on the edge
Some are in the house
Some they will allege
Some they more than douse
Even pieces of the sky
Are part of a unified whole
Application here confides
As one we still can grow

(“copywrite” 7:21 pm monday june 7 1999)

Chocolate and Protein

If it feels good, do it
If it tastes good, eat it
If it’s open, fuck it
If it will come, beat it

Right off the tip of my tongue . . .
Right off the tip of my tongue . . .
And I can taste where I belong

But how much do I have to take
How long do I have to wait
How many things do I have to lick
Why do I have to associate
What I need and what I want
How I feed on that which taunts
Everything delicious is bad for me
Everything disgusting is good for me
Maybe that’s only how it seems

Celery in candy coating
Cauliflower capped with caramel
Cholesterol-filled Prozac
Chocolate and Protein

Right on the tip of my tongue . . .
Right on the tip of my tongue . . .
I can taste it in my lungs

I’d do right if I knew how
I’d be healthy if I could
This is all that I eat now
Gotta take the bad with the good

(“copywrite” 12:35 a.m. saturday april 24 1999)

Replacement Plans

Pick yourself up off the floor
Look at my refrigerator door
Buy a condo, publish a book
Eschew commando, change my look
Keep up the poetry, make a decent living
Challenge all fallacies, keep a spirit giving
Sell another novel, make a long life of it
Own a view of skyline, be a man rife with wit
Expand my mind, never stay the same
Keep on growing, never cling to shame
Measure finesse by those who
Really like me just because
Measure success by how
Many people I have to love

I am here to prophesize
All of this before my eyes
Sometimes all it takes
Is deliberate rejection of pain
Sometimes all it takes
Is a stranger in an aeroplane
To tell you

Replace the word “can’t” with “can”
Replace the word “dream” with “plan”
Replace the word “can” with “will”
Keep the word forever still

I will always be happy
I will refuse anything less
I will not be caught napping
I will always confess
I will have material things
I will have mental health
I will have ethereal thirst
I will spread all my wealth
I will achieve my goals
I will attain my ends
I will suffer fools
I will sure offend
I will make a difference
I will always conspire
To turn many a head
I will do more than enough
To stay in my friends’ clutch
I will fall in love
I will stay in touch
I will glide smoothly on this adventure
Until the track dead-ends
I will make many a departure
From what you recommend
And when I fall
I will get up again
I will glide and I will fly and be an inspiration
I will go and I will grow until my expiration
I will not believe I won’t when I can
I don’t have a dream, I have a plan

(“copywrite” 8:25 pm thursday april 15 1999)

Indian Killer

I have a dream
I have a vision
You have to scream
You are divided
Here and there and on a hill
In a valley sigh the will
How much of our ancestry
Means anything to me
How long can we be bothered
By so many colors
This is what we'll do to protect our calves
This is what we'll do to protect our halves
Just how many gods can one person have?

I don't want to be an Indian killer
Half a world away when I'm still home
I would rather be an Indian pillar
But I was not conceived in the right womb
I don't want to be an Indian killer
Another brick in the wall of plows
I would rather see an Indian savior
Than all of America's riches now

We have a dream
We have a vision
Instead we see
This land divided
Who is who and where are you
At the peak of what's not through
How much of our destiny
Lies anywhere with these
Crossing paths we travel
Through blood ties unraveled
This is who we'll fuck to exterminate
This is who we'll hurt so we procreate
How much culture do we need anyway?

You don't want to be an Indian killer
Focus on home when half a world away
You would rather make an Indian thriller
But you cannot conceive of the right play
You don't want to be an Indian killer
Just like all the other Western Christians
You would rather be the Indian savior
Crusading for America's mission

Savages in turbans
Savages in red
(Where is Native America?)
Savages in poverty
Savages in dread
(Who is painting America?)
Ghandi and Pocahontas are dead
Survived by their son

("copywrite" 11:10 p.m. wednesday march 31 1999)

Santa Claus and Satan

Satan isn't really bad
He's just misunderstood
Santa Claus was once a dad
Who thought he knew what's good
Once a demon bound for hell
Always a naughty boy
Santa he's too old to tell
The truth of harmless joy

Santa Claus and Satan
Just don't get along
Santa Claus and Satan
Are not where they belong

We are just personas now
Which can't be intertwined
I'll bow to Francisco now
And he will block his mind
A cowardly lion and a fierce mouse
Will never bring down the house
They just can't work together
They'll never work together

Santa Claus and Satan
Never come around
Santa Claus and Satan
Have no common ground

There's no point of debate
With a truck stuck on one road
Density can't relate
To a head of styrafoam

Santa Claus and Satan
Won't stand side by side
Santa Claus and Satan
Can't see eye to eye

Santa Claus and Satan
This is how we die

Santa you go first
Don't forget to thank
Jesus for me.

("copywrite" 8:02 a.m. saturday march 6 1999)


When I first saw the light at the end of the tunnel
It looked just like evening sunset beyond the mountains
A new world came in sight so beautiful I fumbled
Overwhelmed and heaving a fountain of emotion
How many times have I been slapped with doctrine bane
Is it a wonder why I was always very tame
But I was pushed so hard off that fast moving train
I was just a child marred
That is when I met the pain

When I first shook the hand at the end of charity
It felt just like breathing genuine airs of one trust
And then it took command of loss of clarity
So brimming and seething under the disguise of lust
How many times was I agitated so in vain
So as to see the sky and need to question my name
Yes I was pressured so I no longer knew my brain
It was a measured blow
That is when I touched the pain

When I fist made the bed in which my subconscious lay
It seemed as though the blood of Christ would sure wash me clean
Avenues in my head made a grid so sure to stay
And if there was a flood the sewer grates took the streams
No one told me options so I only knew to drain
No one gave me weapons, I couldn't even change lanes
Never had specifics, only had a hurricane
Then numbed by horrifics
That's when I embraced the pain

When I first went to school to learn the facts of life
I learned quickly that love is seldom what it seems
I found I was a fool to think joy would be my wife
I saw that all above was an impossible dream
So how much agony could carry me like a crane
This torture nagging me hell-bent on achieving fame
It became so common that I used it as a cane
I let it keep running
That's when I lived with the pain

My first epiphany came to me in a letter
It sounded like a bell and rang out for years to come
All that blasphemy made me feel so much better
It took me far from hell; the richness felt was handsome
All about me I said, so much more for me to gain
All around me I said, the demons all have been slain
It's time to drop the dread, take it with a salt of grain
It's time to look ahead
So I rejected the pain

My first true vacation was of the permanent kind
It made me soar so swift and high as to feel true bliss
All my past taxation was left completely behind
It felt like such a gift, granted the ultimate wish
Now I was free as air, so long I thought I was lame
I felt beyond compare in such a state so arcane
And so I was reborn and my miseries had waned
No longer forlorn
That's when I forgot the pain

When I first saw the dark thought it was beyond repair
I wallowed in self-hate for being in hopelessness
My first score history was filled with deep despair
And then this something great turned into such faithfulness
Happiness depends on what you regard as a stain
Nirvana will stand on the conviction of the sane
Just change one perspective and minds can enjoy the rain
Joyously reflective
So I don't believe in pain.

("copywrite" 9:02 p.m. saturday january 30 1999)

Time 2 Go 2 Bed

. . . I was yawnin’ when I wrote this
Bear with me if I drift right off
But I stayed up last evening
So late to bear that it was rough
The sky was all orange
There were eyelids closing everywhere
Tryin 2 stick with the construction
But was so tired I didn’t care
cuz they say . . .
2000 zero zero party over
Oops it’s the end
So this mornin’ gonna party
Like its’s time 2 go 2 bed
I was yawnin’ when I wrote this
So slap me if I go too slow
But life is just a poopie
And poopies all stink you know
Sleep is all around us
My mind says prepare to fall
So if I’m gonna faint I’m gonna
Decide 2 give up on you all
cuz they say
2000 zero zero party over
Oops it’s the end
So this mornin’ gonna party
Like it’s time 2 go 2 bed
If you didn’t come 2 party
Then you can sleep here on the floor
Got some sheep here in mind pockets
And baby they’re beggin’ 4 more!
Everybody’s pretty dumb
So we’ll all fry any day
So until I let that happen
I’ll sleep my life away
cuz they say
2000 zero zero party over
Oops it’s the end
So this mornin’ gonna party
Like it’s time 2 go 2 bed
Mommy . . .
Why is everyone so very dumb?

(“copywrite” 10:25 a.m. friday january 1 1999; parody of Prince's 1982 song "1999," not used by permission)