A three-piece suit on me,nA tutu on you.nIn an empty airplane hangarnAt a table for two.nnA pregnant pause.nA thought exhaled.nIn the jowls of the work-weeknSpare me the details.nnAnd if you ever didnSpy a giant squidnWith your lazy eyenWith its drooping lidnWe're in this togethernSon, your beef is minennWell, Vern sunburns himselfnFor to peel the old him offnTo find the red him underneathnThe redder him, more raw.nnScooping out his brainsnWith a rusted grapefruit spoonnDrinking his own urinenIn the executive washroom.nnAnd if you've ever beennAn unconvincing spokesman innA seminar and telling jokes nNaked and forgot your notesnWe're in this togethernSon, your beef is mine.nnBut if you ever diednOr ever genuinely triednOr if you ever were deniednYour relevance or sense of pridennIf you sputtered and you stutterednAnd you tied yourself in knotsnAnd under your breath you muttered nSomething someone else forgotnnAnd if you ever havenMissed your flight to LeningradnRunning down some airport stairsnSemen running down your legnWe're in this togethernSon, your beef is minennWell, who tells you to work?nThe devil.nWho tells you when you get a day off?nThe devil.nAnd who gives you your pay?nThe damn devil.nAw, and who takes it away?nThe devil.nnThat pampered quarterbacknOh, he don't know how to actnOh, he don't know how to thrownI want my fucking money backnnOh, I want to think withoutnHearing my mind's mouth talknBe neutered and lobotomized nAnd pushed out of a trucknnAnd if you ever were nSomewhere where you never werenInside someone else's skinnStealing someone's self from himnWe're in this togethernSon, your beef is mine. nYour beef is mine.nYour beef is mine.nYour beef is mine.