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Come Inside, Sheep MAG
Come inside, sheep,
Come into the Room of Pointlessness
And all the pointless yet well-dressed sheep
Flock into the room, altogether, notebooks in tow
And all the little sheep, with their little narrow minds
Write in their notebooks stupid lines of numbers and letters,
Equations - well, something like that.
Living laughably, immersed - well, as far as they can be,
I suppose -
In the shallow, not so dark, not so deep,
Recesses of their assembly-line minds
And such a close-knit young flock they are,
Such good FRIENDS,
Such GOOD friends,
SUCH good friends.
A large pink sheep is in the center of the Room of Pointlessness,
(The center of Pointlessness? If something doesn't have a point
can it have a center?)
The pink sheep, he's OH-SO-WITTY, OH-SO-HANDSOME,
And what an excellent conversationalist, Judith, why yes,
The sheep laugh with him, and dance around him -
My how we ADORE you, Witty Pink King!
Yes, we love you, EVER so much!
How we love you,
How we bow down to you, Witty Pink King!
The silly young sheep (what ignorant things sheep are!)
Hurled themselves, one after the other, headlong
Into the bonfire!
The King smiled and watched.
"Join us," he told me.
"So devoted, your followers," I said, "to sacrifice themselves
Entirely to your wishes. I, however, am not a
Sheep. I'm a ram."