After all no one has to hatch these days

Since eating ones own shell is so depressing
Cowering your liquid Rhine for those first few vitamins

All to euthanize the yolk slicked white horse you rode in on
To stand and wipe the blue birth blood from your eyes alone

No one spits up mothers milk at 21
Wearing their umbilical cord outside their clothing
At a high school dance or sits
Brushing the blue birth blood from their hair at 30 something

These are the days of anyone being blond
The days of mind convincing and the God, luck medium

A time of gold and uncertainty
Noise and expensive genetic victory

The proper time for bright black clothes and last ditch diets

The information age and all its molecular pimping

These are salutations from a nebulous and smoking
90's base anthems of an American cancer society
Cold fork and fuel of the terrible great nothing much