One, two, three, four,
Five, six, seven, eight,
Schlameal Schlamazel,
Hazzen Pfeffer Incorporated
We are going to do it
Give us any chance we will take it
Read us any rule we will break it
We are going to make our dreams come true
Doing it our way
Nothing is going to turn us back now
Straight ahead and on the track now
We are going to make our dreams come true
Doing it our way
There is nothing we will not try
Never heard the word impossible
This time there is no stopping us
We are going to do it
On your mark get set and go now
Got a dream and we just know now
We are going to make that dream come true
And we will do it our way
Yes our way
Make all our dreams come true
And we will do it our way
Yes our way
Make all our dreams come true
For me and you!
-courtesy: the trash seekers
Smack Dab - A new lyrical poem has turned up in the trash heaps that surround city hall that may explain what happened before the cataclysmic events that occurred sometime prior to 2029, when the last known haunches of ancient civilization are known to have existed and flourished for the last time,
Scientists and Americantologists have wondered for centuries as to what happened during that tumultuous decade of which it is forbidden to speak and before which time travel is not permitted and possibly impossible. The only known relic of the era is a giant bronze arm holding a torch buried to the hilt in sand. The gender of the statue that must have once existed is lost to the unwritten pages of history.
"We see the poem as a message from our ancestors," said Marney Towelbell of Constrain Cove while eating a juice-less orange, "Hazzen Pfeffer Incorporated was most likely a collective that, no doubt, was really into civil rights and interpreting dreams. We now believe corporations in those times were nurturing and supportive while the individual had gotten out of control and must have destroyed the environment for greed. The count-up in the first part looks like a mockery of a count-down, which may explain why space travel has never been a thing."
One thing can be stated with certainty: the poem was not prophetic of things to come unless we can assume that the author's dream was to see the wholesale annihilation of the entire planet, a destruction so clean that it took nearly 400 years to restore.
"This was, and I'm fairly certain of this," said Vongard Cobblestone, noted trash seeker who discovered that the ancients had magic boxes that could transmit money anywhere at anytime, "I would put my academic reputation at stake, the statue was, more than likely, a representation of their favorite virgin-born deity Gawgeezus. When Gawgeezus was born, at night, a local King killed all the local babies
He was understandably a very mean-spirited upstart immortal who persecuted and cast shame upon his followers. He eventually went missing. The poem seems to be a lyrical attack against Gawgeezus, when it says, you know, we will do it our way, yes our way. Not everyone followed the cruel Gawgeezus. I learned this from other rubbish I've found in the trash heaps that surround Smack Dab."
He was understandably a very mean-spirited upstart immortal who persecuted and cast shame upon his followers. He eventually went missing. The poem seems to be a lyrical attack against Gawgeezus, when it says, you know, we will do it our way, yes our way. Not everyone followed the cruel Gawgeezus. I learned this from other rubbish I've found in the trash heaps that surround Smack Dab."
Though we have lost connection with the time, it is still sort of interesting to think about what must have happened then, however awful it most certainly was.
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