for andrea true
(we stole ourselves,
to see her show
an unknown vagina,
we wanted lady liberty)
we were
considered riddle thin weaves, vines and weeds/ what had we to need besides the
breathless parts of losing one's humanity/ our searching for other cages
for articulate bones to haunt all at once/ hear ye hear ye what have we
forgotten/ this land of milk and honey has turned all rotten/ and while we may
have some old fashioned ideology to hide behind/ the rest of the world is caught in our shallows by bind/ we came upon hand hewn timber wrapped with leather, metal and decree/ this is what
we can see, gated pearl admissions and a price chart laminate/ short skirt cocktail server noticing the cucumber down stuffed
appendage we wore just in case...
the story goes humble pie beginnings and all
the back door sinning one can muster while keeping the tithe plate full of
lethargy vanquished in mechanized bluster and intoxicating haze/ opiates and
the masses/ the sermon weather never changes it has always been chaos and
symphony/ cries of more flesh for fantasy spat leaped out/ scattering bats from
the belfry/ more souls to writhe more church bells ringing more shimmy shimmer
membrane kelp sea sway low swing chariot ride...
so yes love give us
more more more
we do so
like it...
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