Have you heard about the Christ, Jesus Christ of Nazareth?
He’d been tacked up to a tree or something ? a cross, that’s it.
And anyway, the fella died, or anyhow, so it seemed,
Such a total shame, such a nice boy. Good speaker.

So his fans had been distraught, setting up their vigils and whatnot,
And it got a little crazy with the mourning. No, not in the morning. At night.
But then some drunkards got the idea of busting into his tomb.
And wouldn’t you know it? He wasn’t in there.

Well, perhaps his grave was robbed, his body taken from the place.
And that’s what they all figured happened. Right?
But others say, and I agree, he escaped death somehow.
He faked his death and got away!

I’m so happy about Jesus!
I’m so happy about the Christ!
I hope he has a nice life! I hope he finds a wife!
Never wanted him to die, oh no, not I.

Well, if he is alive, I’m sure he’s far from here now.
Far from this god-forsaken place.
With its cruel and unusual punishment ? am I right, people?
I bet he hopes he never sees a fucking cross again!

I’m so happy about Jesus!
I’m so happy about that Christ boy.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 93

Reminds me of the time we went to dine inside the shrine
And the alligator waiter ate nine cents out of the dime
It was generous in general and was generally genteel
But the cents inside the skin did not appreciate the peel

Daily Hey Magic Number: 94

Umbrellas are magnificent creatures;
They unify preachers and atheist teachers,
And short stubby clutchers and long lanky reachers,
And uggos and persons with handsomer features.
To use an umbrella is not at all draining,
And does not require significant training,
But nobody likes to get wet when it’s raining,
And anyone who says otherwise is a fucking liar.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 95

There’s a lump in daddy’s throat where all the money goes. It’s so enlarged I’ve felt obliged to wear concealing clothes. And iodine would keep it fine, but that luxury’s not mine, so they give me all these pills, and I can’t swallow those.

My rep is lined with strep; I’ve been quarantined. My adam’s apple’s outlasted its warranty, and it’s bobbing in the tub, an irreparable flub of my heretofore untested biochemistry.

And the goiter in my throat will make it hard for me to cope. And it’s hard enough, considering I’ve lost all scope.

All these nodules on my module may asphyxiate, but inflammatory statements only escalate. And they’re growing so diffuse, soon they’ll fall into disuse, as I will not speak for fear that I might suffocate.

I’ve made a choice to throw my voice so it can carry me to the field beyond these hills where they’ll bury me. And if I don’t arrive, they’ll assume I’m still alive, and they’ll curse me for behaving so contrarily.

And the goiter in my throat will make it hard for me to cope. And I’d hang it up, but it would break right through the rope.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 96

Don’t read my mind. If it makes you feel better, I can tell you what I’m thinking.

Don’t read my mind. But it’s not like I’m nervous; you’re no telepath, it’s true.

And if you read my mind, you’ll find I’m finely guarded ? I’ve reinforced my skull with an alarming peace of mind.

Try to read my mind. You’ll try, but my defenses will hamper your best efforts and will render them unfruitful.

And if you read my mind (and read this to imply: for one to read my mind, one must really, really try) ?

If you read my mind, well, I’m afraid you’ll find ? you’ll find I’m not afraid, not afraid you’ll read my mind.

You’ll try ? try, try again, but you won’t break through, I won’t let you see where my thoughts have been.

Read my mind if you intend, the results won’t satisfy you, you will have to try again.

Don’t read my mind. No.

Don’t read my mind.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 97