all that i've known since the moment you said it
and all that i want is to know if you meant it
in this abyss of useless rumination
froze in the pose of endless hesitation
pounding the walls like i'm framed in a photo
calling your name like a crow in a tunnel
bury my mind in the bright ICE of metal
but all i can hear is you calling me baby

(you called me "baby")

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

i am thinking back
to the event horizon
  to the event horizon
to the event horizon

thinking back about wet skin in a dark pond
going back into the turquoise its getting darker
thinking back about pale light on a tanline
going back into the twilight but now its darker

sit back melt ice roll paper

sit back melt ice roll paper

sit back melt ice roll paper

there is real and there is turquoise

(the sun felt so good on my skin)

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

blonde lockes turn green in the water

sit back melt ice roll paper

a shadowfax of neon, mint mist in the peroxide

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

i can hide by making mirrors
mirrors that mirror and
make more mirrors

rolled up like mercury pooling
this videotex is shaman

i take the rightful place
on the throne of
the throne of
oblivion

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

what bitz of what bitz

of what

oblivion oblivion
/\
i have the power

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Have pity, my one true lust nostalgic
Down to a dark abyss my heart has sounded,
A dystopian world by grey horizons bounded,
Where blaspheme horror swims a lake cimmerian.

A frigid sun floats overhead one six months,
the other six darkness wraps the metropolis;
a terrain more bleak than the polar wastes
Neither beasts, nor streams, nor verdure, nor woods.

But no horror in the world can surpass in dread
By the cold razor of this glacial sun
And that huge night like primal chaos spread

I envy the most putrid beast somnambulant
heart slowed near death in cave or coral gable,
So slowly an arc of these dark years do trace.

don't it make you feel sad a little bit
the way those feathers come right off in the wind

don't it make you feel sad a little bit
the way those raindrops melt right into your skin

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [strange party black walls mirror glass]

don't it make you feel sad a little bit
the way those feathers go right down to the bone

* * * * 8 8 8 8 8 8 * * * *

search the evening sky for chemtrails
like a prism on a sailboat

this smoke smells like formaldehyde
like an ibm plant
a bird cries out for one of its own

it says

"do you hear me
i am your maker"