I am madness incarnate
Wrong geometry
Like the fourth point on a triangle
Squaring the circle

I am sutured from below
So as from above
Like your diary raped by angels
Original sins

I am the first silly song
Really silly song
Life wasted in a shell of a man
A breath forgotten

I am not listed in here
You wonít remember
Door closed to our perception melting
And I stopped loving

Itís a painful thorn in the mind of the children
watching on the side of the road each waiting for
the dust to settle on their shoulders as they take
another step step step around the corner to
find another joke waiting in the gutter.

Each syllable a trick on the tongue, tapping
against oneís sanity like a Lolita in
grandmaís perfume.

You canít stop the clock but if you run fast enough
theyíll think youíre slowing down like a clown in one
too many cars split like adolescent bananas.

Take the dagger, it is before you, and plunge it
deep into the hawk, or was it a handsaw,
as we are ill met by moonlight my friends, countrymen,
dogs of war.

I am you in the mirror
Sultry silhouette
In the dark we turn each other on
But you stopped loving

I am not but was and will
Be not yourself now
But a clone of the slow middle class
Breathing rancid sound

I am all but forgotten
Lost baseline bull beat
Scratching dry earth for a cow in heat
Crying sinless beast

I am madness incarnate
Wrong geometry
Like the fourth point on a triangle
Lead is turned to gold