I am a little radio
I play a silly song
My music fills your little room
All day and evening long

The music fills the space between
You and other folks
It gives to you a simple job
And tells you simple jokes

It says to taste the infant's blood
To cut the mother's throat
To empty out your family's home
With knife and gun and rope

You wouldn't do this by yourself
You sullen, silly man
In your body's no wicked bone
Your hand's a gentle hand

But the music plays its silly tune
Made by silly men
And you are too weak and soft to fight
The song that plays again

It worms into your little brain
Drilling little holes
I'm not exactly new at this
Business of twisting souls

Of taking pain and doubt and fear
And turning them about
Using that silly little song
To flip you inside out

You know your wife can't hear it
Our special, funny strain
But soon she'll know its every word
In blood and tears and pain

Your child is not attuned to it
Could never grasp the words
But soon you'll squeeze its little neck
And snap it like a bird's

And then you can be alone at last
With just this simple hymn
To get you through the sodden hours
Aching like a phantom limb

I am a little radio
I play a silly song
My music fills your little head
Until your mind's all wrong

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