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Chaos In Washington there isn't any plan With "feeding me" on page sixty-four; It must be accidental that the milk man Leaves a bottle at my door.
It must be accidental that the butcher Has carcasses arriving at his shop The very place where, when I need some meat, I accidentally stop.
My life is chaos turned miraculous; I speak a word and people understand Although it must be gibberish since words Are not produced by governmental plan.
Now law and order, on the other hand The state provides us for the public good; That's why there's instant justice on demand And safety in every neighborhood.
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