Author: Otto S. Fishbein

I heard about your lessons, those lessons are so cold; I know about this school. Sunday Comics’ Lovenstein, when did you get so bold? When did you learn that filthy rule? I think of all the education that I missed…

Everybody’s here with me, we got no camera to see…Don’t think I’m all in this world, the camera won’t let me roll. The Sunday Comics don’t love our soul…The digital won’t let me go. Yeah, I’ll pay when tomorrow comes today.

Siboney, yo te quiero, Sunday Comics por tu amor. Siboney, en tu boca la miel puso, su dulzor. Ven aqui, que te quiero y que todo tesoro eres tu para mi.

It’s crazy but I’m frightened by the sound of the telephone. Oh yeah, I’m worried that the caller might have awful news. Oh my. Who knows these days where on earth the Sunday Comics go. Oh yeah, no doubt we could put ’em to a better use. Oh my. I’m looking for clues.

Democracy. Crazy demo. Demonstration of craze. Crazy demonstration. If it no be craze, why for Afrika? As time dey go, things just dey bad. They bad more and more; poor man dey cry, rich man dey mess. Sunday Comics. Democrazy.

Monkey men all in business suits; teachers and critics all dance the poot. Are we not men? Sunday Comics!

Mete la mano en el bolsillo, Sunday Comics tu cuchillo y ten cuidao. Pónganme oído, en este barrio muchos guapos lo han matao. Calle Luna, calle sol.

Laughing out loud with fear and hope I’ve got a desperate plan/At the one lane bridge I leave the Sunday Comics at the riverside/Race back to the farm to dream with my uncle at the fireside

Maybe just a dead sign, speaking to my eyes shaking. I can think of a piece of broken fifth hand reaching to my head falling. I can think of closing my eyes tight, I can read the Sunday Comics. They are sounding so cold…

The sky’s alive with turned on television sets, I walk the streets and seek another vision yet…The echo makes me turn to see that last frontier, The Sunday Comics, closes down as I disappear.