Lyrics | Addendum |
So I did little bit of a dance
for having battled it out with god
and I just put my book down when it begs to be read
So I did a little bit of a dance
once there was a song that began
I have no time for that
no time for stories
no times for poems
no times for lines
no times lions
no time for lies
I have no time for that
no time for news
no time for politics
no time for cheers
no time for magazines
no time for books
I have no time for that
no time for repetitions
no time for worries
no time for smiles
& talk
I am you
I am with you
this is the desk I sit at
take a stone
I am you
I am with you
My brain blooms like a cut
turn off the light
I've been slaves and kings
I'm beating all my wings
Unzip flies
take of shoes and everything that was shall be again
the child in me is dying
they wanna cut it out
lying on your veins burns like terror of walls
as the windowscreen calls
I am you
I am you
I am with you
I no longer know
the author of these lines above
into the light rain
as tranquil as a stratagem
but the time is not yet
to dance on me
destroy this page, act natural and all
blah blah blah I think while writing these lines
something is wrong with me
I am you
I am with you
I listen to my boots
click click click
got to admit I feel sick
Back on arrival
Back on arrival
listen to the alchemy three times
but listen four times
be disorderly again
be the perfect fool to faint for flames
this has rarely been the case
be my highschool oh lord
I am the dark underbelly
of your literature
wow, lord get it on
are you having a bad case
of a writer's block?
Have you caught up with me
the ultimate prize is strolling
indulging in a diet of lies
just push the envelope
just hush all allien hope
drive one final wreath
between strong appetites
for picture and light
of domestic bliss
Well the last 24 hours
I saw carnivals made of flour
It was pretty nice
It was modern dance
still I knew something's not quite right
sing you a song of 27 sounds
no, no sing you a sound of 27 songs
pennies from heaven they drop on my
drop on my soul
on my soul
I'm the sun in the house of love
let's walk through mirrors
and swim through windows
who loves the sun
not anyone
today is the day
the sun dogs are dogging up
the old globe going west
see the lamp it is broken by the maid
my moondance
I am with you
I'm the sun in the house of lust
I'm the sun king baby
Come with me on a dance
my nightmare
my moondance
show the sun the way
through the garden
of moon's black flowers
well, let my prayer through
lord, I'm talking to you
I want to see her precious little thing
so he'll buy a little dress
he'll wear it out tonight
and everything will work out for you
something's throbbing in my veins
your eyes are violent wells of passion for you
I want something
I want something to burden a dream
And though I know
I listen and listen
the calm values of laughing corridors nursing a lamp
let's walk through mirrors
and swim through windows
you can't touch the catalog of parliaments nursing a labyrinth queen
come on then
I burn the way pearls burn, so I fell apart between the magazines
seize me, a lost flamingo wrapped in like a nun
writing west my face it is a map
looked over by strange engravers, poets and painters
all thiefs and murderers
cool remnants of daylight
wait piddling and impatiently
outside my door
oh my moondance here it comes again
it grabs your hand at the back of your hand
brains and then a wine afternoon
when am we going to jump of the moon
you know me screaming, sleeping, whispering and I know
sesterces from the sun they drop on my song
and though I know
I listen and listen
midnight has gathered in the junctions of time
till the auctioning leg will come back again
the slug in your gyrus is pinpricked with whispers
the bells that will miss your are tortured by lights
trespass merde eleutheria
trespass merde ally mermaids
mermaids
in the blamishes of how it will not
allow avenues and streets to rain
and mirrors to rhyme I'm losing lies
love the verse the best that tells you nothing and all the rest
my ideas out on the wodden chopping board
are turning in their swimmy eyed lord
chuckling, cooing avidly
stucking with my ballpoint pen endlessly
till they tip me over into candy
recollecting my fuzzy puzzlement
I major in pregnancy of lament
taking a chance to wind a toadlike sound up
put a stubby song into a broken mug
he looks a mess burning the midnight oil
doing the finishing touches of sin and toil
squirming, poising, tiptoeing
on the drugged, glazed kerb of pneumonia
now the sun is darting through the lattices
tiberinus don't speak to me but hear
the lichtode offering the womb of abyss
Le pere Lachaise – the only place to write a poem
In my life I told a lie or two
But what I now say is true
My heart is not black
It's just dirty from the deck
Fifty sails streamed with massacre
This to you
The truth is on his chest
Sentence upon sentence
Hard and brown and crucified
He told me this story
The truth is like a decorative pedestal mailstream
I'm sick to know you
Milk glass bowls slash the sun
Cloud razors gesture everyone
Sighing labyrinth corridors
I seek to know you
I follow the abandoned milky ways each day from the mountain tops
Before I sleep
A crystal fever
Cold clear water
Books, laps, opiate trees
wastes ways
wasted glass
wasted river desert mass
Of the sun I have dreamt
at the least solemn date
but what we recall doesn't follow
an order
the world's spy in the contrary spiral:
wings roughness and dance
the synagogue of the beast of oats
growing free in the fields
we break the last light and enter again
the shadow of our sound
making it more noticed and poignant
thanks for the greatest betrayal, for the fading aftermath of a delicate portray!
Fall, gall themselves to be born
I should be glad of this poor sacrifice
even me, the priest of now done darkness
now the eyes of my eyes is another
could I forbid through these songs?
I consider myself as the middle way
between a real poet and a writer
on the edge between life and verse
Grab another greyhound and gash gold vermillion
also those serve who are open
pity in her eyes that love in a forest
away with my re-writing, grains beyond age
keeping us shut out for singing to loud
the dance of the white narcissus
blossoms in blue skies as they conveyed no meaning
he spoke the words that he met at the door
our proverbs are pailing one by one
like an almost postmodern enlightened view
of an all comprising principle
the truth is like looking through a milky glass
the basis of optimism is colourless
I don't mean simply forms of imitation
love and art are both sheer terror
one is a harlot, one a child
one is a queen, one timid and wild
the problem was that light hurt her eyes
the fat jew manager flies in through the window
he sits down and tells two tales
one is a seminar, the other is French
both are trance, none a dance
he spoke the words in shy grace with startled eyes
I have become laughter on her lips
my head and her breast are wound and bound
wings above flames, flames above wings
like bats in dead trees
a sun by rising set
windhover
falcon of love in a gyre of dreams that bent
above the fading coals that are coming apart
like the frantically widening flightpath
sowing salt seeds in the valley of harness
hollow remnant of a dream
after death there I'll turn my face
dance with the daffodils
I will be there for my fathers and sons
almost breathless in a way
opening up a viewpoint
against an overwhelming sentiment
there the principle was confirmed that
now the eyes of my eyes are open
and the ears of my ears awake
like a legal term
like an unquantifiable statement
like mere puffery:
I am the father of hermes
the mother of christ
dionysus' daughter
and hercules' son
I have lost contact to the falconer
creator of all realms of verse
fathers, mothers, sons and daughters
under trees and above waters
hovering like a honied hive
upon the air to sleep wing-wide
it will not taste like good old wine
but the plaintiff looks like dying on the vine
like night's sleepy eye that closes up
one talent which is a buckling belt
if one travells far enough in either direction
one ends up on the other side
so see both ends met in me
see sillion's semi-seminar
see both cores evaporate
while we hiss to a melody, aching all through
in so hush a mask for my fallen tears
yet have a vision for the night
in masque-like figures upon your skirts
my wine you drink ourselves to know
my bread you snap – breathe my breath also
I wretch, lay wrestling with my lord
the zion always was a hore
the human heart slouches towards the still hour
there god throws down its hungry gorge
that you may know and stand and wait
there god is dwelling in a haste
without wings our dreams to chase
like in the flight of a parrot –
wings shut – but don't fall apart!
all dieties reside in the human breast
we're struggling for the tribute of our fathers
at the end of a candle where nobody found us
I'll built my altar in the west to hide
Such a cold coming lumbering, come
wither and bend, more dear, both
to the last and greatest of human dreams
away with all beloved
forgive me because you were dead, self-luminous, they say
the hush of the leech end all but the beat
of their clawful wings and their beast feet
Under the ardent sun
I sit and watch the moon
The stars go by
And everything's in tune
See his covered head at an immolation
A star shines high above
His sleeves are embroidered with gold
Taurus to his feet
And nothing is in tune
mellow claws of a scavenger
in a pretentious palace
swell a progress, hand
be my able ensign
He goes down this way and river that flows from him and it's all an dead end
gloat over eight thousand flowers
turn into petals made of bronchi
In Kolonos you didn't die
Knows Erolos – king of the sky
There Aquila picked up the stone
but he knows nothing at all
and we couldn't have known it better
Is the hermit's hope the lid of the sot
The air asylum of the lot
since the glass that eats him like a maggot bares him in the severed sandpit
the emperor is dead like a lick in my head
the girls they eat peas and pearls
far away, beyond the alps
floating in jasmine air
come on and announce him with the picture and stone
come on celebrate bright sun days
Look at the eagle-baetyl – walk backwards!
Come on, my precious
I know that you love
I know that you want to be me
the emperor is with you
the emperor is you
I am with you
It's obvious: the mother's will ain't gonna happen
It's obvious: the mother's will ain't gonna go
He's like an odd message left in the sand
That the next wave wipes away
The sacrifice of a horn or a bull's prick?
He's like an odd message left in the sand
Petition with a cypress branch or a club?
That the next wave wipes out!
He's like a sky that smells like rain that’s still to fall
and when he'll fall decline will smell like drunken skies
He is like a drunk in a conqueror dream while images call
me back to a mirror to show me the guy the lord of the flies
a waterfront though is conjured up by a drunken dream
and about to blur what the sober guy is forced to see
into the storm beyond the sky he off wants to steam
into decline that might surprise or struggle to be
He hopes that he’ll be a capable captain on the roughest raft
drunk of the sky, the water, the dream and the image he sees
mirrors the face of smooth and hushed a mother the sea
He prays to forget how to swim to forever and ever be cast away
under the ardent sun he's young and all
the boys are beautiful and lost, running in light
the evening loses itself in the herds of houses
and his new fane becomes a puzzled colour
under the ardent sun
and the quarter of pleasures in the city of exiles falls in a moment
and miracles track him slowly down like pebbles
that propagate themselves on the orchestra of his body
invisible dark far from the dim light of the night
that's forming by chance these times
is with it in your belief
He feels like a single feeling
in ape fashion and no way out
I feel like a single feeling
I feel he is dealing with
help measure for no doubt
he cut a city perfectly
like an impersonal question does
a lofty goal and dull golden eyes began gleaming
when once grasped his words can never vanish again
so ponder further when they cover the land
my duda
hang on the edge of every word I say
and change the truth today
blessed be he who comes sunday
blessed be he who comes today
yeah, I did a little bit of a dance
once there was a song that began
mingle with dead to perform dreadful deeds
but question the priest with hot glowing cheeks
he lives in a town that looks like a corpse
his wooden hind limbs are gulped by his pores
Taking your heels fearing your life
Where can you hide in?
Gasping for breath in your last sanctuary
Latrine pit epiphany
mingle with dead to perform dreadful deeds
but question the priest with hot glowing cheeks
he lives in a town that looks like a corpse
his wooden hind limbs are gulped by his pores
six bodies burst through the outermost gate
better force your way through before it's too late
six bodies burst through the outermost gate
better force your way through before it's too late
Apparently left the punitive father and the like
six bodies burst through the outermost gate
better force your way through before it's too late
if your drink him he will taste like black mirror baby
his idiosyncratic eyes are on the hunt baby
and I hear dusky waters again I need
to touch the mirrors all I feel I am
near his home
I can smell his footsteps dear
I feel I am near his home
I can feel I swim in his grave
but I cant touch his face
my fingers have walked away
and left them nails in your lips
He struck against He saw
was a woman on his knees
quieted and humbled drink silently
into the sea