the long moon (a worker bee's ballad)

Everything has to start so special everything has to come out right but this is the LONG MOON and this is the BIG HIVE and when I count my friends I count in multiples of five. Come Greet the Sun King! with his sunken eyes suckered into slumber dumb as hell, and dazed, and dying from the poison in his wine. go to sleep, little rhyme count your sheep you’ll be fine in the morn. buzz buzz buzz buzz what’s the fuss, what’s the fuzz on the radio so grating only half a note away from sounding maybe close to whole we die alone we live in droves we are the drones that sew the clothes for all the clones. Oh, I like girls who wear Abercrombie and Fitch and then bitch about commercials. And you could be my Queen! you’ve got your stinger in my mind and I know every little cell in this Microsoft ex-hell: The Spreadsheet Hive. You’re my VIP and I’ll hand out these headshots like candy, cause I’ve got a grand scheme to slap these pansies out they panties, dig? You’re my fantasy. When I wake up after death You’re all I want to see, I swear I’ll guard you. May you haunt me. Drink deep and go to sleep. This jelly will sustain you in your dreams. (oh, your wings! the black and gold. your absence stings.)