|
Silhouettes, dreaded swamps, oil baths from the factory lake, |
|
I am dreaming of a painting from the spring of my mind, |
|
I have defined the lines and now I shake. |
|
Wretched palms, violent psalms, violet fades from the cheek of my babe, |
|
I shall cover you and swaddle you in Eden's last light, |
|
I shall hope for the end of dark, dark days. |
|
Betty's bones, Betty's vultures of love, |
|
Are circling upon her not yet forsaken face, |
|
It is darkness that hurts her, the dark lord is a hurter, |
|
Hurting even the waves that lap at the shore of the silver bay. |
|
Silhouettes, dance depressed, I am |
|
The shadow of the neighbour that stares |
|
Into the curtains of pain, the light frothing crazy behind his brain, |
|
Curdling and dancing to his master's off-brain, |
|
Paul is alive, Paul is alive! Open the fort! |
|
It's on and on, and on and on. |
|
The Great Debaser. |
