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“Yosemite Sam Blues”

The populace itself is degraded to a vulnerable brand of detritus

After the passing of time,

The propagation of man

Into the open spaces

Where psychological need replaces

What was once an idyll. 

.

In my car, I sit, persecuted,

Stalked and hunted 

By a name tag with a face and

Incisors bent on order

In a world that’s been prodded

Like livestock. 

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