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05.///Yoko Ono
Knows.
I'm in the front, smoking a
blunt--
my toes go numb, I can't believe Yoko.
She's in the back smoking her crack--
phoning her quack,
I can't believe this Yoko.
Little blue turd jerking the bird,
he'll never last- don't cross Yoko.
Yoko Ono, oh no no,
I know she knows I know Yoko.
Yoko smiles, and for her that's fine--
but her piercing gaze burns in my mind.
Burning inside, just let it
ride--
formaldahide will numb your toes.
She's on our trail, like bread gone stale--
much like Dan Quayle's potatoe.
Yoko stutters,
"fluffer-nutters from cow's utters is nasty yo."
Yoko Ono, oh no no,
I know she knows I know Yoko.
Yoko smiles, and for her that's fine--
but her piercing gaze burns in my mind.
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