The Occupier's Interior (and Sometimes Exterior) Monologue

I behold the grass... grass... grass... I slobber.
The chipmunks in this park are just like me and you,
when you get right down to the essence of things,
like the pure essence of the universe,
stardust, hydrogen, our souls, you know?
Chipmunks know what's really going on. They see it.

Follow the money trail all the way to Wall Street
the money trail lined with human skulls, it goes
to the buisnessmen, to the modern-day colonizers,
they're slaughtering the lower-classes
just like they slaughtered Tonto, Sitting Bull, Geronimo,
the California Condor, the coal miners of every nation.

Look at the chipmunks
and you'll see what I'm saying.
You can't escape from the Economy of Actuality.
It's everywhere, man, but they keep it all hidden.
Everything is coming together, man, all the elements,
we're gonna show everyone that the people are
waking up to the new reality, but in actuality
the new reality is just the old reality
but this time it's got knives, and fangs.
You know how reality is just like, reality, you know?
But they can't see the reality because of The Man, man.
They got their hate boots strapped on tight
and their heel is coming for you man
they got your number and they got my number
we're nothing but numbers to these number-men.

Sniff. This grass has a particular life, a calming effect
that grows through the beat of the bongo drums.
I'm passive now... but now I'm agressive!
Give me that sandwhich! Punch!
I go belly down on this warm warm ground
and look at the ground. Hello ground.
Ha ha ha you are a funny ground. My friend.
Do you know where I can get some juice? Organic?
Such wonder! Munching, munching.

My name is Marginalia no longer!
My name is now Centralia, the Pure,
Equality Ambassador to the Land of Inequality!
Oh the fruit I have plucked!