we are some Frankenstein monster, of social, Foucault, but also, we have our great grandmother's eyes

With our hair on brown-out, look
We fully 1928 photo, some farm
A ballerina, wait for black sheep
Sexxx and runaway with, an Irish
                                 sailor, I think.

And, we should still send balloons for you,
some ritual almost forgot, for those w/o
roots, descendants of black sheep. We
say goodbye over and over, the horizon