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lyrics

All I know is wretched fear,
My old friend shooting from the chest,
Like a piffling ache that wants to be born
Into pain.
Sleep disturbed by nothing,
Dreams sacrosanct prisms of fantasy,
Yet I cannot control the brainwash images,
The sad illusions,
Of my slumbering hours.
And I know the taste of FEAR.
Writ large in icy letters that drip anticipated blood.
Did you leave me in the forest of that longing domicile,
(Surrounded on all sides by the cemetery walk,
The séance parlor,
The dead cards held aloft in trembling hands)
As the pale and silent throng wing out into an infinity
That will disappear with the sunrise wide open gaze of my
Rheumy eyes?
Sing a canticle for me,
Delight in my poison,
I am bereft and still and alone in the room,
Where the spirits speak to old friends in muted tongues,
And I breathe in the stale air,
To know that Father waits for you, as like as not a dead hand,
Holding down the tarot of our lives,
As each body blinks out into the mists of merciless time.
And what I know is FEAR,
And how I feel the regret wash over me,
And take me,
And poison me,
And distort my sleeping fancies until light and life seem
Filtered through the branches
Of a brooding tree.
(And it is there my body hangs.)
Goals
I have goals,
What next?
Will I ever know
What it is like to live like the rich man?
Or am I forever condemned to be a shiftless mouse,
Pecking at the rancid cheese
Of a pretended life?
Will I ever swoon like Romeo
Before the awesome visage
Of some svelte Juliette,
As I try and reconcile
My past failures with my future ones?
Will I groan to know the weight of
Silver treasures and golden fragments glistening,
Like pyrite embers in front of my Gluttonous eyes?
Does this longing charm you?
Are you a snake?
Do you twist in a basket?
Am I a flute?
(I demand sanity trials and a hung jury…)

credits

from Curtains: Readings from Molotov by Tom Baker, released November 9, 2019

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Extreme Volume Pop Indiana

Hopefully, my various musics are ultimately like magic bullets that enter and impact at the base of the skull, ricochet around the brain chamber, and then leave a gaping exit wound in the forehead. You may hate them


Since 2006!

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