A century of universal decay In cyclotrons nuclei are split Souls are split, sounds are split insanely While behind a quiet fence on a bench in someone's garden Doom weighs a century of separation And her eyes are ancient and her palms are taut with nerves It comes oozing Out of flowers at night It comes out of the rain If a snake looks skyward It comes out of chairs and tables If you don't point at them and say their names It comes into your mouth while you sleep Pressing like a washcloth Beware, beware Nearby and cynical, death brandishes a hasty spade Here whispers are worse than curses, offer no consolation How long the bureaucrats babbled on like crows about universal good...
If you meet a cross eyed person You must plunge into the grass, alongside the chilly ants Fish through the green fingernails and come up with the four leaf clover Or your blood with congeal like cold gravy If you run across a horseshoe, passerby, stop, take your hands out of your Pockets And count the nails as you count your children or your money Otherwise a sand flea will crawl in your ear and fly into your brain And the only wall you'll keep from going mad, is to be hit with a hammer Every hour If a hunchback is in the elevator with you Don't turn away... don't turn away Immediately touch his hump For a child will be born from his back tomorrow And if he promptly bites the baby's nails off So it won't become a thief that child will be holy And you, simple bird that you are, may go on flying Whan you knock on wood And you go You knock on the crossTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
