Wet Hot American Summer, Radio

A mule is emulating us all, tenderly mentions the land malt cocktail and the temperature of a rooster ambulant dawn. New Order. L'Histoire de Melody Nelson. Utopia is church bells, university bells, any belltower, Gainsbourg. Is-was-is. Telegram starts in the elbows, to anybody who... Comes to blows. And elephants. And Phantoms. And sell outs. And stamp collections. Slum Village. Beej N Dem. Playlist as entropy. Worksong, worksong, worksong. They waited 'til you were asleep to start saying the truth-telling. Some plants are exploding nuclear bonds into families, Nebraska, was it true, new you up in gangley fields of smoke looking for what aches, inhaling, close enough, he was, to 40, and far enough from me to believe in villages, roosters, slums, songs, the stamps on my eyes at dawn, car radio, green acres, is it early or late, we don't know or care, something official loses track on purpose, in order to improvise the memory of itself like we were there