Perfect Sense, Part I
The monkey sat on a pile of stones
And he stared at the broken bone in his hand
And the strains Viennese quartet
Rang out across the land
The monkey looked up at the stars
And he thought to himself
Memory is a stranger
History is for fools
And he cleaned his hands
In a pool of holy writing
Turned his back on the garden
And set out for the nearest town
Hold on hold on soldier
When you add it all up
The tears and marrowbone
There's an ounce of gold
And an ounce of pride in each ledger
And the GERMANS killed the JEWS
And the JEWS killed the ARABS
And ARABS killed the hostages
And that is the news
And is it any wonder
That the monkey's confused
HE SAID MAMA MAMA
THE PRESIDENT'S A FOOL
Why do I have to keep reading...
