The Severed Garden
Wow, Iīm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain South
Cruel buindings
The servants have the power
Dog-men & their mean women
pulling poor blankets over our sailors
(and where were you in our lean hour?)
Milking your moustache
or grinding a flower?
Iīm sick of dour faces
staring at me from the TV-tower
I want roses in my garden bower, dig?
Royal babies, rubies must now replace
aborted strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal for the plant
thatīs plowed
They are waiting to take us
into the severed garden
Do you know how pale&wanton thrillful
comes death on a strange hour?
Unannounced, unplanned for
Like a scaring over-friendly guest
youīve brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
and gives us wings
where we had shoulders
smooth as ravenīs claws
No more money,
no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems
by far the best
until itīs other jaw reveals incest
& loose obedience to a vegetable-law
I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the Giant family
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