The Collective Subconscious

There’s a shirt reads: Eclipse and a pad for scrawl,
Two smoke stacks puff children by the dozens
And ya’ll are obviously crazy, just listen to that drawl
As we drag a yellow finch through surround sound
Up and down a backwards headlong, up until a
Michigander Cherokee slips a drip of lemon in
The coffee and two creams and a water, again?
Will it be another minute, or would you prefer it
Go directly to the company waste bin? $5.98, plus tip!
And the Hulk’s face deep in dirt in the front yard
Of some middle class family who can’t keep track of idols.