An Old Comedy of Asse[s]
Well. It was another day. The General’s decrepit jallopy had run into the barbershop’s brick wall, crushing a plastic choo-choo train that little Gerard had just set up. Meanwhile, the morning advanced past the dial, setting for the tone that s. didn’t want to hear but couldn’t shut out–as his head lay like a mouse’s head in a mouse’s trap, and leaking like an easter egg because of (yeah) this one grateful dead clap.