An Address That Was to Skip Ahead of the Gallop of Its Own Sperm and Eggs and Wait for Itself in the Future: Letter to 2096 lyrics

Deer won't starve
I've got a young plan
And it tastes like an American wrist
When we were disguised like flies
I feel as clean as Canada
Let's hand wash the USA
Time, your good one
PS

You're my favorite chair
You're my favorite chair
You're my favorite chair
You're my favorite chair
You're my favorite chair
You're my favorite chair
You're my favorite chair