Where have all the hobos gone?
Are they crackdown? Downtown? Wedding gown?
Perhaps they float, ripped coats, down the river of the oopsy doopsy.
We can't fire the righteous men
(we haven't hired them)
we can light them on fire in the river of the oopsy doopsy.
Are you postmodern? A postman? A Post-It? Post-op?
You just need one damp stamp, champ
Mail yourself right on down to the river, c/o the oopsy doopsy.
