quarta-feira, 16 de fevereiro de 2005

Feast of Friends

Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the kingdom
Have you been borne yet & are you alive?
Let's reinvent the gods, all teh myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
(Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war)
We need great golden copulations
The fathers are cackling in trees of the forest
Our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals
and that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by T.V.
The moon is dry blood beast
Guerrilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine
amassing for warfare on innocent herdsman who are just dying
O great creator of being
grant us one more hour to perform our art and perfect our lives
The moths and atheists are doubly divine and dying
We live, we die and death not ends it
Journey we more into the Nightmare Cling to life Our passion'd flower
Cling to Cunts and cocks of despair
We got our final vision by clap
Columbus groin got filled with green death
(I touched her thigh and death smiled)
We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life and flee the swarming wisdom of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept
and only one of all the rest
To dance and save us
With the divine mockery of words
Music inflames temperament
(When the true King's murderers
are allowed to roam free
a 1000 Magicians arise in the land)
Where are the feasts
we are promised
Where is the wine
The New Wine (dying on the vine) resident mockery give us an hour for magic
We of the purple glove
We of the starling flight and velvet hour
We of arabic pleasures's breed
We of sundome and the night
Give us a creed
To believe A night of lust
Give us trust in
The Night
Give of color
hundred hues
a rich mandala
for me and for you
and for your silky
pillowed house
a head, wisdom
and a bed
Troubled decree
Resident mockery
has claimed thee
We used to believe
in the good old days
We still receive
In little ways
The things of Kindness
and unsporting brow
Forget and allow
Did you know freedom exists in school books
Did you know madmen are running our prisons
within a jail, within a gaol within a white free protestant maelstrom
We're perched headlong on the edge of boredom
We're reaching for death on the end of a candle
We're trying for something that's already found us
Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain south
Cruel bindings
The sevants have the power
dog-men and their mean women pulling poor blankets over our sailors
I'm sick of dour faces Starong at me from the T.V.
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 that's plowed they are waiting to take us
into the severed garden
Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful comes death on a stranger hour
unannounced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth
as raven's claws
No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best until its other jaw reveals incest and
loose obedience to a vegetable law I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the Giant family
(Jim Morrison)

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