Minneapolis
(“Santa Monica” by Savage Garden”)
by Irma. ONLY Irma. And me.
created in World Literature class/an IB assembly-meeting thing/History of the Americas class

Minneapolis in the winter time
the icy streets so full of potholes
I slip and hit the ground
Minneapolis, get your parka from
the Burlington coat factory-y
and walk into the cold

Blizzards so unavoidable
every week there’s one or two
on the street you can see frozen dog poo

But on the telephone line I get so confused
all the area codes to chose from
Do I dial 651? or 612?
What’s the one that starts with 9?
There’s an elephant on the TV
with a monkey and telephones
Look at them they’re trying to tell me
to dial the new codes
But I didn’t and now they’re after,
They’re after me-e-e
They’re after me-e-e

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