you in Rockland I'm with you in Rockland spinsters of Utica I'm
with you in Rockland where we are great writers on the apartment
cliff-banks of the madhouse with shaven heads and the last fantastic book
flung out of the madtowns of the coma by our own souls' airplanes
roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the here O
victory forget your underwear we're free I'm with