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Memo From Turner
Didn't I see you down in San Antone on a hot and dusty night?
We were eating eggs in Sammy's when the black man there drew his knife
Aw, you drowned that Jew in Rampton as he washed his sleeveless shirt
You know, that Spanish-speaking gentleman, that one we all called Kurt
Come now, gentlemen, I know there's some mistake
How forgetful I'm becoming, now you fixed your bus'ness straight
I remember you in Hemlock Road in nineteen fifty-six
You're a faggy little leather boy with a smaller piece of stick
You're a lashing, smashing hunk of man
Your sweat shines sweet and strong
Your organ's working perfectly, but there's a part that's not screwed on
Weren't you at the Coke convention back in nineteen sixty-five
You're the misbread, grey executive I've seen heavily advertised
You're that great, gray man whose daughter licks policemen's buttons clean
You're the man who squats behind the man who works the soft machine
Come now, gentlemen, your love is all I crave
You'll still be in the circus when I'm laughing, laughing in my grave
When the old men do the fighting and the young men all look on
And the young girls eat their mother's meat from tubes of plasticon
Be wary of these my gentle friends of all theskins you breed
They have a tasty habit - they eat the hands that bleed
So remember who you say you are and keep your noses clean
Boys will be boys and play with toys so be strong with your beast
Oh Rosie dear, doncha think it's queer, so stop me if you please
The baby is dead, my lady said, "You gentlemen, why you all work for me?"



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