Our Jargon Muffles the Drum

The empty hand of innocence
transfusing street of the sorrows
and children of the wood
Hounded, shredding all veils
and winding all sheets of the dead world droning
Overturning tables laden with silver sacrificial birds
Beating goat-skin drums
Advancing with hands out-stretched
and we keep filling them with mercury nitrate, asbestos
Baby bombs blasting blue
Scavengers picking through the ashes
Children of the mills!
Children of the junkyards!
Sleepy, illiterate, fuzzy little rats
haunted, paint-sniffin’,
stoned out of their shaved heads
Forgotten, foraging, mystical children
Foul-mouthed, glassy eyed, hallucinating

Excerto do poema Our Jargon Muffles the Drum de Patti Smith, usado na sua versão de Smells Like Teen Spirit dos Nirvana.