Plastic and mastodons. There are little green trees among our mammoth feet. You're alone down there. There is a deer and an exacto knife. We are drinking something cold And letting the knife slip out of our hands And into his belly. There are never any surprises. He is hollow and his legs are hollow. His head is hollow. No one can tell me that you did not expect this. Take it up with the hunting agency. This deer is ours, it always has been, We have shot and killed something With skin and no flesh. This is why you are cutting a hole. To insert a skeleton. What will we eat for dinner? Bones, bones, only bones.