Arise Yukon Cornelia
And taste the prospect 
Of waking after anesthesia

When Christmas is over forever
And no more twisted epiphanies
Rend themselves together

Not a stone, but a mouse
Will stand on a stone
At the western white house

As beavers tear out
Our concrete channels
And turn on the spout.

You'll hear no boosted bass
Or school or church bells
But we'll have left a trace.

Burnt out mixed-use buildings
And the foundations of mcmansions alike
Are again nests and dwellings.