The river was rainbow stew, the fishes choked and cursed. The thirsty
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dogs spat fire, rolled in glue, then they burst. The fur balls flying,
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trees were dying--dandelions were crippled, bald . . . We saw it all in
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colour--now we're waiting for the cloud.
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A mother forcefed baby milk which ticked and bubbled black. She sank it
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back with plastic pills although it stank . . . seemed thankful. Rolled up
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in her sack, she won't be back, she won't grow old . . . We saw it all in
|
colour--now we're waiting for the cloud.
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And crocodiles were sprouting wings. Dead sheep filled the fields. The
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children rode on locusts ad threw slings at anything that could be killed and
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eaten raw. No weeping sore, no claws, no balls . . . We saw it all in
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colour, now we're waiting for the cloud.
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We're told it could be 15 days, we're busy digging holes . . . The deep ones
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for the pure, selected--shallow ones for old and sick, the derelicts, the
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poor, the junkies, criminals, the whores. There's more, there's red and
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yellow, black and blue. There's me, there's you. (Waiting for the cloud.)
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-----------------
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Waiting For The Cloud
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| The Legendary Pink Dots |
