Give it a push and make it sing; trap it under our houses. I can hear it breathing. The noose, the noose, give it the noose! Oh my God it has a universe inside. Going up! Going up . . . I said . . . Iím going up . . . and who is that in there, that little weevil who is snacking on my rhymes and maps? Why does he think that language is a game, hasnít he seen me crying? Stretch it out and carry it across the water. I feel the neighborís need like coming thunder.