A man in a black suit
Walked through an iron post
A clerk stared in stunned silence
No, he was not a ghost

His black Cadillac sped away
Throwing the darks aside
Yes, it no longer mattered
He got a whole **** world inside

A righteous cloth wavered
On one side of the fender
Like a lonely lost cowboy
Slowly losing its luster

Yes, it does not matter now
It was only an old symbol
It won't free up enough bucks
To do anything rational

From the needle-point of view
Of the naives and downtrodden
The great spot was exploitative
Mind you, it owned the mainstream

From the artful thoughts
Of the artless and the browns
'twas a friendly fishing net
Crowding everyone around

There was a unifying vision
Yet it was oversimplified
There was much to condemn
That which can not be spoken

Since the losers were good
The winners were awesome
Never mind the conspiracy
Never mind the stealthy harm

It works all the same
All over mighty federations
What's built into the system
May never be reformed

Give me cigarettes, give me chocolate
I like it Joe...

My soles rested on this cotton-white candy land
Unsure if it was the cold touch of these featherbeds
Or the flakes of hesitation that brought chills
Into my clueless mind

Give me cigarettes, give me chocolate
I like it Joe...

This 1945 song played over and over in my head
As if it helped lessen the shame and discomfort
That was traveling from the tip of my toe
To each in every active follicle of my hair

Ah, I savored the strange moment that it was
Of what I considered triumph. Strange,
That I even felt achieved in this strange land
When the real war of time and belief is yet to come

I wore Chinchilla coats over my dignity
Yet to me, every stride was irrelevant
An account for differences, even partiality
The Dr Pepper in my hand seemed out of place or was I?

The white backdrop where I was standing
Only served to amplify my striking shade
And how fool I was to even think
That the landlords would consider me germane?

Who was I to even presume acceptance
When their own predilection as old as time still lives?
Is it perfidiousness to long a taste of a miracle
In the land of dreams?

Give me cigarettes, give me chocolate
I like it Joe...

mon amour
our innocence
moved in uncertainty
like our body moves, beautifully
in unnatural way
our tears of pain
and happiness
blend in our sweats

(when our body is bent
our heart is spent)

my tongue is strong
like the tip of your toe
as its slices the flesh
down your neck
like a velvet rag
wiping away your shame
blotting it out completely
as from the memory

your low, sustained cries
are music to my ears
like a cascading tutu, gasping
like waterfalls over steep rocks
pushing me
beyond any boundaries
made by man
even by gods

(and i felt your body quiver
like a wild circus at the
birth of the night)

my love, my prima ballerina
you are hysterical
evolving weightlessly
on my skin, whispering
into my pores
telling a story in each curve
conquering yet refined

and here i am, a criminal
condescendingly proud
taking justice into my hands
for only by these hands
could i bring justice
to our love, to our lust
to our soul

(and you pull me down
down to complete nothingness
where everything doesn't matter
and all that matters is nothing)

and together we dance
you and i
ever so gracefully
to that hopeful spotlight
hoping for the endless
hoping for eternity
but euernity has to end
only to begin again

Old corn farmers on a smoke break
Wearing old hats and ***** shirts
Talking about rainbows and politics

Alligators evolve so as the raven
Their claws soon become useless
Just like the human brain

An owl cautiously moved into the limelight
Wearing oversize diamond and opal
Hoping he doesn't look like an animal

Lips like cherries and a tongue like strawberries
She has all the makings of a total fruit cake
Who will think she stings like a snake?

I am afraid our eyes are bigger than our brain
That we have more curiosity than understanding
For we grasp all but catch nothing but wind

The twelfth house was deeply marred
As of a forgotten ancient museum
Echoing the words of my kinswoman
Like a dusty book on a lectern

Whence part of that time it is of one
And part of that time is of other
When the Sun leaves me and enters in you
Then the season changes like feeling
Partly winter and partly spring

We are but fishes in a shallow marshland
Tied together on our suckling mouths
With rotten love and golden thread of stars
We are but the saints of the vernal equinox

Skin turned into grease
Dripping like splintered glasses
The fire consumed her