Answer
|
Brown
|
paper
|
bag,
|
don't
|
stop
|
me
|
now,
|
I'm
|
on
|
a
|
roll
|
Plain
|
brown
|
wrapper
|
in
|
your
|
pocket
|
Is
|
it
|
still
|
the
|
invisible
|
man
|
you're
|
consorting
|
with,
|
woman?
|
Now
|
that
|
you
|
got
|
it
|
all
|
wrong
|
You
|
got
|
it
|
all
|
backwards,
|
girl
|
Enter
|
through
|
the
|
exit,
|
and
|
exit
|
through
|
the
|
entrance
|
when
|
you
|
can
|
Seen
|
you
|
consort
|
|
Answer
|
with
|
your
|
invisible
|
manhole
|
Fool
|
child,
|
you're
|
never
|
gonna
|
make
|
it
|
New
|
York
|
City
|
just
|
wants
|
to
|
see
|
you
|
naked,
|
and
|
they
|
will
|
Though
|
they'd
|
never
|
say
|
so
|
Wise,
|
old,
|
black
|
and
|
dead
|
in
|
the
|
snow,
|
my
|
southern
|
sister
|
Sister
|
Sister,
|
was
|
the
|
name
|
of
|
the
|
band
|
Flesh
|
and
|
blood,
|
my
|
death
|
close
|
at
|
|
Answer
|
hand
|
Sister,
|
this
|
is
|
not
|
about
|
me,
|
And
|
it's
|
not
|
about
|
you,
|
I
|
swear
|
No
|
hard
|
feelings,
|
nothing
|
personal
|
Soft
|
sculpture
|
rides
|
the
|
air
|
For
|
free
|
words,
|
words,
|
words...
|
Longings,
|
longings,
|
all
|
in
|
vain
|
Just
|
ask
|
vanity,
|
abandoned
|
out
|
in
|
the
|
rain
|
by
|
the
|
world
|
Another
|
proud
|
American
|
And
|
as
|
proud
|
Americans,
|
We
|
let
|
|
Answer
|
it
|
slide
|
away
|
Harmless
|
little
|
negress,
|
you've
|
got
|
to
|
say,
|
"yes"
|
to
|
another
|
excess
|
Let's
|
go
|
for
|
a
|
ride
|
today
|
In
|
possession
|
of
|
eyes
|
that
|
say
|
In
|
possession
|
of
|
eyes
|
that
|
say
|
A
|
southern
|
bunkhouse,
|
blue
|
skies
|
up
|
above
|
A
|
kind
|
figure
|
of
|
feminine
|
grace
|
and
|
wit
|
passes
|
for
|
love
|
these
|
days
|
All
|
that
|
|
Answer
|
slender
|
wristed,
|
white,
|
translucent
|
business
|
passes
|
for
|
love
|
these
|
days
|
Much
|
hailed
|
genius
|
passes
|
for
|
love
|
these
|
days
|
Four
|
more
|
years
|
Four
|
more
|
years
|
Four
|
hundred
|
more
|
years
|
of
|
this
|
shit,
|
fuck
|
it
|
I
|
look
|
up,
|
I
|
see
|
the
|
North
|
Star
|
I
|
look
|
up,
|
I
|
see
|
the
|
North
|
Star
|
When
|
I
|
look
|
up
|
at
|
|
Answer
|
the
|
bar
|
through
|
these
|
tears
|
Four
|
white
|
pillars
|
Yankee
|
style
|
All
|
of
|
America
|
loves
|
to
|
light
|
his
|
pipes
|
All
|
of
|
America
|
live
|
to
|
light
|
his
|
pipe
|
at
|
night,
|
To
|
which
|
Dixie
|
responds,
|
"Free
|
me,"
|
And
|
then
|
washes
|
his
|
sashes,
|
again
|
"Maybe
|
or
|
maybe
|
not
|
fast
|
forward,"
|
she
|
said
|
"Maybe
|
once
|
the
|
seed
|
is
|
sown,
|
|
Answer
|
fast
|
forward,"
|
she
|
said
|
"Don't
|
talk
|
about
|
the
|
South,"
|
she
|
said
|
It's
|
not
|
you,
|
it's
|
nothing
|
personal,
|
No
|
hard
|
feelings,
|
nothing's
|
there
|
Soft
|
sculpture
|
rides
|
hard
|
on
|
the
|
air
|
Now
|
that
|
you
|
got
|
it
|
all
|
wrong
|
You
|
got
|
it
|
all
|
backwards,
|
girl
|
Enter
|
through
|
the
|
exit,
|
and
|
exit
|
through
|
the
|
entrance
|
when
|
you
|
can...
|
|