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Canterbury crimson
On the plot that stands the rim
Beckoning the lonely souls
Oh please do come on in

Find a feast that’s waiting
Drink until your fill
Kick those shoes across the floor
Spit along the spill

Everyone is happy
Can’t you see their smiles
Torches burn the shadows through
Some have come from miles

Dance among the ruins
Yes, your life is there
Fall into the dark abyss
We’ve so much more to share

Crawl the crooked hallway
Feel the pain increase
Blistered skin and fractured bone
Oh well, to say the least

Chains are always ready
Locks are rusted tight
Forget about the sunrise spell
Just make it through the night

There’s no use in crying
It’s music to our ears
Melodies of freakish song
Lyrics penned in fears

Find the darkest corner
Make yourself at home
Hell accepts most anyone (even poets)
You’ll never be alone

have you ever believed
in something so blindly
so genuinely
that the moment you realize
it isn't true, something inside you
changes forever?
i wanna tell you a story, see
seldom do i ever
go swimming in drinks
deep enough to drown in
but when i do
i speak in tongues
about things that none
of my memories
are allowed to talk about
like that christmas
at the isthmus
where my girlfriend
plucked a conch shell
whiter than gods teeth
out of the sand
held it to her ear
and stopped time
that day she was a shade of blue
the could've made the ocean sick
see, she loved to play jokes
when she held
the sea shell to her ear
she gasped, called my name
and said "i want you to hear this"
i said "yeah, right, everybody knows it's just the same old sea"
she replied "no. not this one. this one is special. listen. theres music in this one"
she handed me the shell
like a promise she couldn't keep
and i held it to my ear
with all the potential
of seeing shore
after being stranded
at sea for years
only to hear
a tired dirge of silence
spill from its emptiness
i guess she didn't know
how desperately
i wanted to hear it too
because ever since
something inside me snapped
now sand pours out
of every post card i open
i hear seagulls
in telephone static
sometimes i have dreams
where i bury my hands
in every beach
i've ever been on
and exhume this graveyard of noise
every time i try to sleep
i spit up fishhooks
and i guess i'm obsessed
but maybe
if i hold my ear
to enough vacant things
then i could have back
the time stolen from me
since it happened
maybe they would get it
if they knew what i wanted
when i blow out birthday candles
maybe they'll find me
face down in a wishing well
i watch eternal sunshine
of the spotless mind every day
pretending i can forget too
because this sea sickness
has followed me for years
because yesterday
i walked into a music shop
and all the pianos broke
but the only thing
i can think to say is
*do you know how bad
a memory has to be
that you fantasize
about forgetting it?

There's a blind man at The Garden
and he's dancing to The Dead
He hasn't any worries
Bouncing in or on his head

His wife pulled out his eyeballs
so he'd never look again
At anybody else but her
Posession, not his friend

His father blames the white folk
for all the damage to his kin
Hey listen!  Twas the wife, folk
not the color of her skin

Then she pops in eyeballs from the Mr. Potato Head Game
into his sockets
Just to play with everybody's head
She loves him

There once was a word, I cannot say and
The letter they did blame for it was the letter K

Born bad from the start, she crossed her legs
The letter they did blame was the letter K

She crosses her legs, you can hear the grown men pang
She crosses her legs, yeah the letter K

If you see Katy, tell her not my name
That's the one that crosses, crosses her legs

Never blame the other letters, always blame the same
Put it all on the weighty legs of the letter K