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Oh I'll send you a telegram |
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Oh I have some information for you |
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Oh I'll send you a telegram |
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Send it deep in the heart of you |
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Deep in the heart of your brain is a lever |
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Oh deep in the heart of your brain is a switch |
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Oh deep in the heart of your flesh you are clever |
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Oh honey you met your match in a bitch |
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Deep in the heart of |
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Deep in the heart of |
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There will be no famine in my existence |
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I merge with the people of the hills |
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Oh people of Ethiopia |
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Your opiate is the air that you breathe |
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All those mint bushes around you |
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Are the perfect thing for your system |
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Aww clean clean it out |
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You must rid yourself from these, these animal fixations |
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You must release yourself |
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From the thickening blackmail of elephantiasis |
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You must divide the wheat from the rats |
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You must turn around [and look oh God] |
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When I see Brancusi |
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His eyes searching out the infinite abstract spaces |
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In the [radio]rude hands of sculptor |
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Now gripped around the neck of a [duosonic] |
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[I swear on your eyes no pretty words will sway me] |
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Oh look at me aah |
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cannot move ahh so much aahh everything I am |
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possible |
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Aah |
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Feel so fucked up |
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much too |
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I know I know |
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tell him to get out of here |
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go down to the sea |
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if he would just tell me |
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he appreciates Brancusi's space |
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the sculptor's mallet has been taken in place |
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every time I see |
