Chemical Playschool 8+9, 1995
From our window on the vast beyond, we measure space and sing the songs that lost their meaning long before they built this cage we live in. It's from another age. An aeon... Turn another page, experience another place... here's a neon palace brimming with temptation. But I'm bored with Mother earth, it's seven wonders and I wonder, "Was it quite so small?" Did we escape or are we tourists heading for some foreign flawless place that only graced the thoughts of mad professors laughing in their graves? We'll never know the answer. We'll never find the tapes. our Bible preaches, "Search! Research! Reshape! Recycle..." Recycle for the sake of those who come before and those who follow. We have orders from beyond, we've no alternative; we're growing weaker as the years go on and on. Our mighty leader is our father and our brother and he's sick as the in-breaders in the Dead Man's Room who bang their plates and eat their spoons and scream profuse profanities. I wonder sometimes, "Is it them or is it me who has lost all sanity?" But, after all I hold the key - but keep it safe inside the jar. Now half of this cage is starving while the rest of us shoot stars and blast the eighteen headed Pacman from our armchairs in the bar. Zsa Zsa Korova scored a supernova! Zeros wall to wall in roses, pink, vermillion. A trillion. Five stars. A new religion. Light the candles because I re-wrote the book of Psalms. On silent nights we chant them crawling backwards and watch our world collapse in crackerjacks through cataracts. A cataclysmic, ectoplasmic burst of happy gas. We knock it back. Relax, because we're never ever going back. We never ever can return.....
15 years назад
15 years назад
15 years назад
15 years назад
15 years назад
15 years назад
15 years назад