The highways (the slipstreams of half-sacks)nAre jammed up from pillar to post.nnNight changes things.nEverything is foul and the filthy reignnThe settlers are kicking off their shoes.nnFlex those comets, bury that assholen'Cos noxious obnoxious is guilty as HellnTake those smokestacks to your lawyersnAnd smoke out the lot of themnDrown them all out.