112th Chorus
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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