Dear Sirs

[Verse 1]
 Dear Sirs
 If the pavement comes alive on Flatbush Ave with toothy smiles
 Comprised of traffic cones and manholes become eyes
 And birds burst into flames while singing Satan's praises
 And fold into the sky and rain down ashy danger
 If every office empties and all slaves walk in dazes
 To a pool of liquid money where they bathe blissfully naked
 And drugs no longer taunt me and flooze around my conscience
 And every woman beating rapist is securely in their coffins
 If every open hydrant in a Brooklyn time summer moment
 Is opened up by cops and folds out into an ocean
 And rent is paid by bread literally and parking isn't paid for
 And food stamps can be planted and childhoods can't be damaged
 If fire could power space ships that safely ship the creators
 Of dynamite and gun powder to the graves of all who faced it
 And the slurping nerf of beauracrat life and bean coutning slave owners
 Is twisted in on itself til they shave off their own faces
 If all the coke and crack in the nation is collected in a top hat
 And force fed to the children of every CIA agent
 And dust heads get an angel and an acres worth of rainbow
 And the projects turn to clouds and the stupid aren't so proud
 And the snivelling grimace mongrels of infected money slobbing pesticrats ignite
 into a brilliant beam of light
 And mercy is the rule
 And the exception's mercy too
 And the desert comes in Brooklyn and the President goes to school
 Time flows in reverse
 Death becomes my birth
 Me fighting in your war is still, by a large margin
 The least likely thing that will ever fucking happen... ever