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Free Radicals: "The Occupation" lyrics:

During the occupation, we had a pre-occupation with going nuts, we had to eat the shells with the nuts, we had to sell our jewels, we were stuck in the attic which was hot as hell, stuck in our ruts and feeling unwell, we had to climb into our shells and not show our true selves until our true selves were untrue to us, so, being the whatever we are that we are, we asked them to leave, but then someone was afraid they might never come back, so we caved in and put up with their lousy table manners and other matters such as the clattering of dishes, the tattle-tale signs on the scales of the fishes, the table cloth tears, the splattering of stuff on the stairs, the scuffing up of cuffs, the flushing of the flares, the hairs and fluff in the drains, the cares in our brains as if we hadn't had enough, the pushing around with their canes of our earthly remains, the putting on of masks, the putty made from clams in casks, the claims on our poor puttering old eternal paternal grand father, the reliance on the grandfather clause despite all its flaws, the incest with the in-laws, the becoming of because, the sipping of something thick through the straws, the cat calls from the claustrophobic strobe light closet that woke us up after a late night deposit, the no deposit, no return policy of the return of the native nativity scene, the policy of permitting polygraphs in our naive scene, the police at the scene of the scenic overhang, the scene by scene blow by blow breakdown of our nervous breakdown and the bad break up thang, the break-ins in the pantry, the scandals that wore through our sandals and seemed so slanty after the scanty learning we got in college, the freaks from the shanty towns, the frenzied fear when the sun goes down, the free love and frottage that some suspected went on out in the cottage although we never went out there because we were too nervous that the night patrol might pass, that the snakes in the grass might try to put a cap in our collective ass, so instead we collared our corollaries and collaborated, collecting samples so that when the analytical critic passed we would attain critical mass and explode and implode until we were at an inane impasse, and were granted asylum, put in insane asylums along with the other infectious fellows from our phylum, put under lock and key in the penitentiary, put down and pissed on if we had to pee, then they put off our parole session until after the next century, put us in the center of the yard with three three-armed armed sentries with us in their gun sights, put us into little cells until we got in fist fights, until we couldn't put up with it anymore, and we agreed to the their terms, their terminology and their terminal illness.