The poem
Line the inside of the little box With your precious skin And make yourself cozy Just as you would in your own home
Make space voyages inside her Gather stars make time squirt its milk And sleep in the clouds
Just don't go around pretending You're more important than her length And wiser than her width
If you do we'll sell her for a song Your box and everything inside her To the first fleecer to the wind
We don't care about profit And we don't keep spoiled goods
So don't keep saying It's we who told you this From inside the little box