Perfect Sense, Part I

The monkey sat on a pile of stones

And stared at the broken bone in his hand

And the strains of a Viennese quartet

Rang out across the land

The monkey looked up at the stars

And thought to himself

Memory is a stranger

History is for fools

And he cleaned his hands

In a pool of holy writing

Turned his back on the garden

And set out for the nearest town

Hold on hold on soldier

When you admit all up

The tears and the marrowbone

There's an ounce of gold

And an ounce of pride in each ledger

And the Germans killed the Jews

And the Jews killed the Arabs

And the Arabs killed the hostages

And that is the news

And is it any wonder

That the monkey's confused

He said Mama Mama

The President's a fool

Why do I have to keep reading

These technical manuals

And the joint chiefs of staff

And the brokers on Wall Street said

Don't make us laugh

You're a smart kid

Time is linear

Memory is a stranger

History is for fools

Man is a tool in the hands

Of the great God Almighty

And they gave him command

Of a nuclear submarine

And sent him back in search of

The Garden of Eden