Joey the Bull of the memory of childhood and finding things like lunch was bad. Breaking out for what. Throngs of chasing after him on late nights and hours of crawling through fields on our bellies scratched nicks in pale skin from broken fences. The wrong running and hiding, we. Stung tongues like fear was bumble bees. Catch Joey in Chains again bull him proper criminals and fences. Skinned empty belly knees we're dirty free. we go.