zaterdag 19 november 2011

THE LOCUST HARVESTING MACHINE


Dream my sweet child

Dream beyond the rim

Everything’s available

As long as you lick up your sins

 

Freedom is a spectre

A form you have to fill in

A false note on life’s partitures

An abandoned escape

 

Dream on my sweet love

Patriarchs know your name

They’ll lick up your sins

Just as you told them to do

Cause they are the one’s to blame

 

I look you straight in the eyes

While your finger gently tip over the pot

Spilling over all the ink

You walk over to the burning kitchen

To wrench out your soul

While black water spirals down the sink

 

Dream on my child

We are born the conjure up rains atomic

To break the barriers of the sonic

To built cold metal towers

To have our graves stacked with flowers

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