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And I think there was men before who were too scrambled |
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By Donna's awesome awesome power |
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But did any of them ever fly? |
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And by fly I mean moving in and out of the crescents and into the indentations and the golden crescents of the sky? |
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The pink flowers are dying but everything everywhere is occasionally getting into the dying |
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See William, see that brown speck on top of that Irish island that is sure proof man that everything is sometimes into dying |
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I never liked that co-pilot now even less |
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Since he took my laughter and bled it upon the altar of his own designs |
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Slit my joy's neck |
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Drained it of its blood raised a sacrificial goblet to himself and the virulent power of his own ****ing loins |
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Decelerate decelerate |
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The aeroplane is diving |
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Out of gold |
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And if we go slow enough I might drop to bombay |
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I might sense the green air I might be dropped out of phase |
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I wish the pink flowers away |
