I’m sitting on a plywood table, in the FLATLANDs, And it’s all pastel-pale, and full of light. But I don’t want to be here tonight. The art people. They’re kind of scowling. Now that they’ve seen me. What would you do? Would you call the art police? Or would you like to stay out of my way? Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens. I put some oil in the house–paint, the materials probably aren't as you want them. let me COMBUST. let me just be free.