Who calls the tune to which the Stupid God lurches?
Whose hands clap out the cadence to which its feet fall,
Rhythm neither syncopated nor regular enough to swing?
What voice sings the cracked tune,
What lips wind the horns, what fingers work upon them,
To make disjointed melody and awkward harmony
And hungover, pounding bassline,
To which the Stupid God brokenly gyrates?
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