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Hustle, fustle. |
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Push shove bustle. |
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So goes the dance of the milling mass. |
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Work, rent, mortgage. |
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Magic shortage. |
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Why queue for milk from their golden ass. |
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Open up your Wonder Annual. |
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Turn on the leaves of your private book. |
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Open up your Wonder Annual |
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and, if I may, can I lay and look? |
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At the gold and the silver |
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that will fly from your hands. |
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Hands of Ripper pours paint stripper. |
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Toasting the worms in their shallow graves |
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Draw your blinds down. |
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Sketch an unfrown. |
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Show me the door through which all are saved. |
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Open up your Wonder Annual. |
|
Turn on the leaves of your private book. |
|
Open up your Wonder Annual |
|
and, if I may, can I lay and look? |
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At the shells full of pearl |
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that will float from your gate. |
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And if lust equals knowledge |
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then I side with the snake. |
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Open up your Wonder Annual. |
|
Turn on the leaves of your private book. |
|
Open up your Wonder Annual |
|
and, if I may, can I lay and look? |
|
Open up your Wonder Annual. |
|
Turn on the leaves of your private book. |
|
Open up your Wonder Annual |
|
and, if I may . . . |
