Carcinogen
Land
Drinking
whisky
while
listening
To
Sweetheart
of
the
Rodeo,
The
new
national
pastime,
The
ultimate
reality
Of
cubicle
sprawl
is
beating
me
Until
I’m
thoroughly
combined
I’m
finally
a
real
American,
Battered,
bruised,
And
not
sure
who
hit
me,
Mourning
the
loss
of
a
past
Which
never
existed
And
a
future
sold
out
too
soon
It
doesn’t
matter
where
I
go
Everywhere
is
flyover
country,
Jets
and
helicopters
Keep
crossing
above,
Carrying
elites
who
pass
through
And
deliver
their
evil
to
other
lands.
By
Ben
Nardolilli
23