112th Chorus

Dont sound reasonable,
       dont sound possible,
              when you bring it up
But if you dont bring it up,
              everything is alright.
Dont believe Mr. Believe Me?
Dont think about him
              and boy
              you’ll see how he vanishes
              in morning’s mist
              when the moon
              is a crescent a banana
              and birds jump
and far over the Atlantic
where Red Amida is Shining
you’ll hear the Call Trumpet
of East is Alright with the West
In the Orb of the Womb
              of Tathagata
                so round
                so empty
              so unbelievably
                false-lyingly
        empty of persimonny


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