[DEATH TO THE CLASSICS:] [PART 3:]
July 12, 2005, 04:54

“And we all know 
that we are The Death to the Classics”

{dawn}
ancient mouth, why won’t you call me up?
I’ll give you ten minutes, until you velvet touch 
Trouvelot tribute silk, 
Save it for the tea mahal; walk and strut
Black and trite, the salvation stride tonight
Operatic, you are already a member
Lips suck the truth, skin the soft
And make way for the bitter fruit…
Take thyne and let me live

Heaven forbade Yours
Now you’re in up to your smile
Take off your terror code
And lead me up to the dial tone 
Because I want to die…
They say misery loves a misses
Once again
I’m invited to a federal horror show
Once were the seasons garnished with envy
It’s a ruby lipstick in the broken bottle bath
Oh, we’re dying to spit it out
A golden idol which is truly iodine
But now all of those sequins, I do dismiss
They say it’s all guilded in the end
Blind fury and passive angels 
But when my trials up and I want to Viva Vienna
I’ll remember when all the circles were closing in.
Yours knows there’s more than electric lovers watching over us
Yours knows truly that there’s no love without envy
Now don’t waste that cup after you toast to the electric love
I saw in that crystal ball how I was going to die
and it ain’t in your arms tonight.

I’ve seen the champalia tide and rode it till the ships came in
Some skim along the cornerstones, bell tolls and black widows
Cross your heart for your dogwood crucifixes
And press your lips where the big black X is
It’s just a matter of time, 
so why not grant a wish and call it an art crime… 
I saw in that crystal ball how I was going to die
and it ain’t under courthouse lights.

{midday}
One was the last line, true for the lead eye
Two was the slight less sight for the sword swallowing
Three for the one who will calls “veni vidi vici”
Gilbert Nadeau was the falling star
Until we state that our claims are of Trouvelot.
I will write the bluest laws from the strangled midsummer skyline
And I’ve looked behind the satin curtains for the first time
And now maybe you will see…
Rome wasn’t burned in a day
Remember that slender finger 
that played The Checkered Loves in Iodine for the first time.
Russian Roulette, save your Cancer son
Landfill lipstick, spine language lungs in the albino 
Tap tap tap Morse code in hell, hide the gutless wonders in a dusty shell
Ringworm rasping up a redwood wall, 7s are locked to the kings of 8
He kept the Brandenburg Beard for months
Now the piano string charade is shut
And now he holds the skeleton key
But they won’t let you out, unless you want it badly enough.
Stately tease, lately we’ve been trying so hard
Tying our tongues to the hands of god
Gypsy moth on your strawberry tarts
When something strictly confidential turns out federal feline
Take the iron in the pale light
It’s laugh is quaint with the black list lung
Return to the womb-
Wax seal of The Viennagram
When we hung the traitors at the gates.
It’s the dawn of a new era.

Worship the back with the foolish hump
Spin me a web around the barbers poll
Peppermint date on the crowns against the state
And all Control in 8
And all Contrive in 8
And all Contract in 8
And all Constrict in 8
Open casket moves pantomime, silhouettes of concubine
Retire retire retire unto the lips of Yours

{sundown}
gertrude, gertrude, come slay the Perry quail 
and name your first born Czar Alexander the First
Spit in the locket, look past the glass wallet
Some Saints in life will never depart
From the caesarian scar gardens of our hearts.
Oh their words may learn to cut you
And mend their shadows in convex virtue
But never can they forge the envy in our eyes
And forever her bones; a ghost ship which departs
Pheramone White; knee deep in acetone
The vultures in the milk bath when the Gang Green comes to town
Saviors follow you like The Envy Eyes of Yours
Turned your tears down like a china doll
The wax seal of The Viennagram
The monarchy will live forever.

Promenade, shark teeth and everything
when you’re looking for salvation but it just won’t bite
convert to blackout stroll
hesitations gone ipecac 
so put your knife in the back
looks like the czech’s in the bank.
13 in salvation’s called the velvet touch
xanalogue singing ‘too much is too much’
confessing your obsession with the great depression
sure glad I’m not her tonight…

masquerade, five decide dinner legs
when you’re looking for temptation but it’s just all tripe
they had the violent four 
and a kiss gone chloroform
we shook your supple skin and dreamed of dopple ampheramone 
13 in salvation’s called the velvet touch
comb the iron curtain and carve her name on the crutch 
decoding the lesson about the great depression
and I’m sure that they’re going to hang…

{dusk}
took the cure about an hour ago
black sun whispering
Trouvelot's gold
I've felt the touch
the velvet touch
and it's one for the Ouroboros
as we were swinging by our nooses
our last plea was touch
a vibrato of staccato was my iron tongue
I've seen a vision
of vicious misses
now it's one for the Ouroboros.
I’ll take the right tramp
You take the left
Cause if this serpent stops breathing
Then we’re over and dead
She’s playing both sides
She was the best
And as we looked into the sidebar
There was nothing left to it
So snuff the harlots; the men of war
Cause if the fire’s always burning then 
It’s jungles rules, man.
She knows you’re falling for her SOS
You want misses, when you’re blowing all your kisses
She’s just decided that this land shall be divided
So if you take all the seas
I’ll make sure Love is Dead…

The smoke keeps screening when you’re dead
And you feel the noxious fumes as I recite:
“Bless me know thou tranquil eye
that canst behold even the greatest happiness without envy”
[CONTROL:]
[CONTRIVE:]
[CONTRACT:]
[CONSTRICT:]
we are omitting and replying to a bidding
horizon dial set a black sun rising
love is dead
as we collide, divide in Czech
love is dead
our speech devoid, reply in Czech
electric tapes are spinning precious little secrets when we’re dead 
And you sleep of vanquished tombs as I recite:
“Bless me know thou tranquil eye
that canst behold even the greatest happiness without envy”

so stately sirens when you close those eyes, 
you’d better decode the lies…

Check your Master, Czech is your Master
Czech, your master
Czech is your only answer
Czech is your Master

{IMAGE REMOVED by UbuZip}

How can we rise when our reflection’s of Master
The nightly sky/ death ray dawn chained to our Master
How can we lie to ourselves when all blood spills for Master
Can you deny that behind every true lie is a Czech Trojan waiting… 

skin tight in the electric night
fortnight in the urchin wool
soft coffin making way in the wishing pool
now that love is dead, we can go where we want
but where did we go?
Dark to fisting
Don’t want to hear about the caviar investment tongue
Can you see the horizon take all your lies on?
Turn to perfume and thieves?
Midnight in the mausoleum 
Midnight at the taxicab
Midnight at the last wish
When you see the sudden horizon
Feel the smoke of the Suki Lounge sinking in…
You’ve got the gypsy silk all over your eyes
All over your innocence
Ruby red for a real tank of iceland
Widowmaking with a zydeco
Give me real on the Kill Talk film Czars

and you open your eyes
can’t you see the Star of David is watching us?
Midnight at the mausoleum, the smoke is setting in the Suki Lounge again
And the gowns I’ve grown to prefer
Bon Voyage- said your goodbyes to your man at the same station
Weeping up silk bombazine again
Check the window, nowhere
Slide on my ring while you’re weeping like a child
Sin is setting in the Suki Lounge 
Now you’re stuck cracking up with the city walls
Don’t want to hear about the caviar investments, madame
I just want to whistle bordello hymns I’ve learned in Amsterdam
“take it out, Czech mark darling
I’m your new toy
Take it out and break me in
Save me from myself”
The winter of discontent
Widowmaker of the discotech
The mascara bleeding double doors down your face
Wait until your vice kills
Shall we dance the Kill Talk of the Suki sound?
Where have you been coming from
I know where I’ve been and I will go back again
Sensing the ballots brown 
With the lipstick split between the 8 of hearts
The chinese checkers made in japan 

Make way for the dirty well liquor
And your eel bazaar
And your family’s gone
And your family’s ours
Is it the lovechild
Or the lovechild of the Barren
Can you Kill Talk and move?
Take your phantom blues
And your funeral fire
And your experiment child
And you’ll feel well again
It’s like a spider cocoon at the chime of noon
But is it the lovechild of the barren or just the barren himself? 

{twilight}

…and there’s a secret in the Suki Lounge 

[END VIENNAGRAM:]