In New York City, you gotta work.

All these other people, see ‘em?

They’re all working, 

So am I.


I take on all the work

—And I never, ever, ever say no.

But now, fuck, I got an eye twitch.

Shit’s beeping out Morse code.


I can’t decipher that. 

Is my eye twitch is trying to tell me something?

How am I supposed to know?

Don’t understand Morse code.


Now I guess I gotta learn it,

Could be something real important— 

An ancient Mayan blessing

Or a map to buried treasure, I dunno.


If you see me on the F train,

And you know Morse code,

Help a brother out, okay? 

I’ll give you a cut of all my treasure,


In New York, finder’s fee’s like what? 

Five percent? 

Fine, maybe ten.

But you gotta know Morse code.