The world is winding down
and crushing New York City with its suburbs,
goddamn Brooklyn's in Central Park.
The turtles in the lake
retreat inside their shells.
As we're getting John's body out of the trunk,
New York's finest cruise by
and wave at us while we break the law,
the towers tumble in the jungle.
Yoko doesn't even thank us.
We drive off to the nastiness of New Jersey,
run over Hoffa's body
and keep on driving,
listening to Imagine,
convinced John got it all wrong.
cuatro de cuatro