Do not leave. Leave me weak. Do not leave me alone with this loony they say is me. A mooncalf - I am in panic, I am manic. A changeling. Pinioned, crippled
Lying here in this flower meadow Feeling free Hovering on a cloud Worries vanished Looking down on These people Do they deserve This grief All those
This penetrating pain arousing from its sleep This pallid flesh hiding in shades These hollow orbits watering the ground Frantic ghouls lurking in my
My whispering poems My treasures My arch images My treasures They honour me Dead, creaking trees They praise me Mute, mossy rocks They worship me Empty
These tears of sadness Falling with the grace of autumn leaves I have walked the path Carried my mournful wounds A burden I am (to you) That is why
So you took him moonward from the cellar. Put him in the black garret. The window's spotlight chasing him into the dusty sheets tossing. Did he wince
Here where the dead mourn for the living We eat cannibals before they attack We eat cannibals and ask afterwards We can't control our headless horses
[instrumental]
I am the Ignoramus But he believes he is concealed when blindfolded And he believes he can read minds Words written in ink on cerebral paper And he believes
You know you should lay your ghosts, but you've become used to them. You make your bed at eve, stretch ghosts over the mattress, let the insane bed tuck
Some time ago And for a period of time I lived on another planet And in another galaxy Where time Didn't exist There were no seasons No nights or days
How I'd love to experience a heartquake But oh so afraid it will end up with a heartache These untimely little deaths Would leave me out of breath Life
At last I've found you. You're here, you're mine, you're a machine. Hear my tales, decipher my dreams, tell me things. So happy. What can I use you for
Peek through the hole And enjoy the lizard dance Come see the lizards' dance Out of their skin See them throw their first tails Watch the hundredth
In the shade, in the cold, a grey pastry, a sallow dough. A giant lump of some A?/&%/ substance. Wallowing in an over-sized glass jar. Quivering, gurgling
The autumn sun is restrained to wither as the winter assumes with its pale pride The last of life is smothered Only the remembrance of a season's departure
Deep down in a smiling bucket swimming clouds. If it was up to me this house would be almost seven hundred years old and more than thirteen kilometres
If you can't cope with the answers don't bother to ask If you can't cope with the sights don't bother to look Once you've seen it you can't make it unseen
