As I puff And and **** sadly On carbon monoxide, Nicotine And 5000 others I think of Nixon, Maggie And other incarnations of the devil And realise That in the end Time Is the greatest dicator
Oh god If you are up there You better have a good explanation As to why I need to ******* To get to sleep every night And why You put those things in my dreams And why Good people die and **** get rich And why You created beautiful people To laugh at subnormals It all seems quite unfair
the smoke rings live my lips in lign forming a long oooo that floats dances falls and rises around me and i am wrapped in smoke and dusty memories on this december sunday
The moon is half full tonight My spleen is twice as big tonight And in my horniness I hope for a nondescript passerby To knock on my door And wrestle the sadness away with me No questions asked But no one comes And I wonder how many others feel so hopeless tonight
I used to turn up late I used to take the long way home I used to stay up in ecstasy or agony until the first lights of day But I woke up today and found myself trapped By the 6:45 alarm By a bowl of Musli By brushing my molars By the No. 27 bus By my desk chair Colleagues Targets And slowly you smile And nod As they take you away From yourself Somehow
On monday I will have to brush shoulders with artless people in an artless world but for now I have Songs from a Room and Dave Bixby and the stumbling hours of a Sunday afternoon
I wish we could cut past the platitudes And speak la langue franche You and me Cut past the trivialities And get to the core Great men have been there Mapping 9 levels to the inferno Or drawing solitude But we put on pedestals All those who divert our attention From the core And elevate to the rank of gods The salesmen of longevity and eternal youth But you and me I think that tonight We could chip at the terrifying core
I am tired of the Americans chasing their opaque neon dream I am tired of well tailored speeches justifying wars I am tired of the dusty remnants of a roman lie striking fear into the hearts of many and an absent god forcing his framework on an apathetic world and I am tired I am tired of constipated museums and the few dictating the sonic landscape of the many I am tired of horse meat scandals and frenzies over crashed planes and I am tired I am tired of globalisation being an auction for the lowest human rights rather than being wasabi peas at Tescos And sleep is the cowardly death of the feelies and TVs of the world
I saw the germ seed of civilisation In the metro today Between Châtelet and St. Michel It was stuffy And the ones already in Made it hard for others to get in We formed a barricade Made it look more stuffy Than it was Then tutted Or rolled eyes when others tried to get in There was a brotherhood Even though all we had shared Was the journey Between Châtelet and St. Michel
I don’t know about those pastoral scenes Those bucolic and primordial endless greens Unspoilt trees and murmuring streams I know the concrete and the pavement Uneven cobblestones with cracks in them With dandelions growing through Only sometimes
I love the later more I’m in love with the concrete behemoths The back alleys of life The gnarled bouncers (unreciprocally) The curious glimpses at weathered flyers on the floor I love the sterile street lights and the worn faces ILLUMINATED by them The ushers and hustlers and cautious taxis The drunk geniuses The night-swimmers The nudists The opinionated Etc
Yet life whittles down these loves for that of the Calculable The Regimented And Controllable Etc
There are drugs And the shadow of divinity is scattered By an unwelcome daybreak creeping into the room Revealing lechery in our eyes Everyone's voicing their ultimate truth And yards if soul unfurl As we distance ourselves from god And words fail All watched over By the retreating darkness And the wrinkled reality revealed
I roll up and lubricate my thoughts they spiel the sky crashes down and the furniture is shaking now the bed is jettisoned the outside whispers nonthreateningly a perfection forms
Midnight seeps Through And one man is between his sheets With something stirring beneath the pleats And he wrestles his dusty memories He relives and reviles them And why is the night so dark? And why does it make us damage ourselves?
Last night you saw past my front And we connected Eye to eye Arms around torsos Tongue in cheek (My tongue in your cheek) Right there Revelling in the stupid jeers And cartoon smirks Unified As one Just like they sell it it the **** movies and flowery poetry
Except this didn't really happen Because I am here on my own Thinking that death isn't that bad after all It's the approach That's terrifying
Your anatomy laid bare for me Your silhouette in the dim light And other things that can make a good man Unreasonable
Door closed Locking out the perfect faces on the billboards Shielding two more from the broadcasts of unobtainable lifestyles As our souls speil, soar and reel in the dark As we descend into the milky cosmos As the space between two sheets is filled with love
I am by the sea And I have left behind A girl too good for me And the sea swells to my libido As it crashes on the earth And bruises the sky And you could write a masterpiece here Or you could just try to forget
I know all these people who life pulls by the hand Life never let's them get any rest It tells them to sit up straight But then gives them good chairs to slouch on It tells them to be sociable But then puts beer down their throat And makes them sociable only sometimes These people get no rest And if they slip they just get dragged along
And all these people need to dig their feet in They need to make their life go at the right pace Or the right direction
When you go from being a producer to a consumer everybody knows you’re going to have to dance to the producers beat you CONSUME education you CONSUME your individual style you CONSUME yourself because you are a brand
There was a saint at the bar last night He wore a battered shirt And had uneven stubble He cradled his beers Peeling the labels off out of boredom If you looked closely you could see the early signs of a receding hair line And bags under his eyes All he had said in three days Was "beer" and "thanks" He didn't look like a saint And no one went home with him that night And he ate 50 aspirin And he wasn't at the bar the next day Or the next But he was a saint
The man who had all the time in the world For whom the clocks stopped ticking Didn't know what to do with himself And soon enough Not an amount of time you can measure But soon enough He prayed for death And to have less time
The baby Who was born with all knowledge in his head Went straight for the razor And cut this whole thing short
We two boys together clinging Absinthe drinking Paradise garage dancing Old people alarming Tower top gazing Hands clutching Discordant steps searching Sound of you falling Giovanni's room emulating Stop the lift kissing Separated Then returning And turning Swinging Dancing 2-stepping Laughing Crying In Bars Clubs Roofs Rooms Corridors Parks Shops Seats Cinemas Streets And then returning Hands clasping Lips locking On our mattress Fulfilling our foray