1. |
Powdered Pale Geisha
03:46
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Broken white lenticel skin
Rich like powdered pale geisha
A white ermine resting flat
On your generous hands
Snow-white on the outside
Vulcineish temper and spring blush
Coagulations I take note of
So ethereal a ghost
Like a low hanging cloud you pass by
Like a mold-eaten fruit I collide with the stage light
Bent down sadness hanging from atop
Breezes glitching and curling marcel up
Bright red erections leaven you from a distance
Yammering and shrivelling in the cold dew
Rich like powdered pale geisha
Rich like powdered pale geisha
Rich like powdered pale geisha
Rich like powdered pale geisha
Like a low hanging cloud you pass by
Like a mold-eaten fruit I collide with the stage light
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2. |
Prism Drome
07:17
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This is the war
The war is over
These are the bullets
So shun them all
This is theses war
The Gods have chosen
These are the bullets
To drop the dash
This is the war
The war is past
These are the bullets
Bamboo and damast
This is the war
In a pace of small conducts in a jungle
These are the bullets
Rio, my hand, I distrust you
carving hole after hole
a pertinent tippo - sudden rash
Salvo j'ai wended up thalamus
bashing holes in my memory
slow tic, slow tic
This is the war
The depth of a hair
This is the mace
The mace is the way to set straight
Cae cilia
I've counted the winks
Cae cilia
I've counted them all
Lawless goats are standing by a pond
The little ones in the water
Drinking a drought with their feet,
their little feet
And Chamois in the reeds in groups of three
Bottling their packs
Charging their A*’s and mem's
To remember
To come back to
To do over
Geoffrey, Catinka, the answers seem to be right, but
words are glib in the night
gone, off, room, comp, absolute right, rank from 1
to O, a buzz, long nights
Jericho, Aster, the answers smash into the paper,
the colours are missing or shun
ping, abort, pong, biasses, the elder clock ticks,
wrangles and cages the 'chenical jung
Majorie, Levinas, the boys from the ball have gone
fishing, all they do is just fishing
Give us back our prism
Give us back our prism
Give us back our prism
Let us dig up the unpolished iron
Brand our noses and nipples with it
In a moment of slow tempo
Connect the bears with yarn threads
Yup the doses a glitch
In a moment of music
Let's say words to each other
Like low-fat or bracelet, receipt
In a circle with no ending
Give us our prism
say, Prometheus?
Here!
The common snipe rattles in the leaves
Here!
Here!
The calcium flows down Parnassia hill
Here!
Oriolus' nest swings in the air
like a left buzem made of oak
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3. |
Alchemy
05:29
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A corner shop sold alchemy to me
And now I’ve found what I had lost
The fiber of my heart is burning
My heart is burning as I run into the sea
Keep that flame burning, blue
In the palm of your head
Firmly in a bunker
Firmly in a bunker
Making the sound of a baby
The sound of a baby
Emitting the great ideas
The chambers of my memory contract
The hardness of my heart is learning
Is statuefying me
The local store sold alchemy to me
Me, me, only me
Some kind of alchemy to me, oh me, only me
The fiber of my heart is burning
My heart is burning as I run into the sea
Keep that flame burning, blue
In the palm of your head
Firmly in a bunker
Firmly in a bunker
Making the sound of a baby
The sound of a baby
Crying the great ideas
The chambers of my memory contract
The hardness of my heart is learning
Is statuefying me
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4. |
The Magician
04:11
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The magician is dark
and so his lips have found the blessing of a song
Singing allowed his books tremble
Still insecure he's trying to follow his own lines
His melody is airborne,
the arboretum recognises Orfeo
The magician is present
and we are downloading his excellent rhymes
The magician is recovering
from his state of boredom
He's reading signs on the walls
He's listening to the echo’s of his own mouth
To smack down is a pleasure
He wouldn't have to see the face of his crowd
His cadenza is a horse
A captive creature on a little-used tongue
The magician is dancing
And we are shaken by his prophecy drum
The magician is recovering
from his state of boredom
It's been long since the last one
These are the tones of a landline
He stammers on the phone:
I don't know.
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