WE smoke the toenails and hair
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of the wiseman
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under a BLACKGOD's thumb
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we dance like painted puppets
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she bleeds orgasm in techni-color
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an ocean of alien mystery
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we eat the wiseman's eyes
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for sight that we might
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see the darkness if we kill
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the lights fast enough
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we eat the brain and pray
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that our eyes can open wide enough
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we burn the dry shell, a funeral chant
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the pulse quickens and we dance
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as the blossoms fall
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a scattering of dust to the winds
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this celebration of old skin
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I feel every flower that is
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screaming to consume you
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the earth and sky your cradle
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the earth and sky entomb you
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so is the way of forever
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teeming with simple cruelties
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beatings in cold rooms
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hands and head not found
|
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Old Skin
|
Acid Bath |