Judith S. Offer
If you step across this line I'll
Piss on your grass ground grandmother.
This is my yard farm country:
I inherited it from
God and everybody;
It says so here in my
Paper will Book
And my face manhood reputation depends upon
This wind-blown border
In the hills between the mountains
Under ocean sand where the line moves
Grows follows the river's edge
Clearly along the map.
Anybody can see
It's mine ours;
We'll do anything if you touch it;
We'll fight to the last rotting
Child to the last dotted line,
Across the plain desert field territory
Which we obviously deserve
Because we're stronger smarter chosen
I paid a lot of money
To be buried with my grandfathers.