By the Egyptian Gate
|
I wait in my penance vest
|
I've never been so lost before
|
so I can't help myself possessed
|
I want to be torn through
|
the material of your flesh
|
|
Your husband lies unconscious
|
on Samuda's precipice
|
I drink in the dead night air
|
and your astringent kiss
|
|
She's slovenly lovely
|
he's a moth over opium
|
so long time stone cold sober
|
now marked down for delirium
|
her perfume draws his blood out
|
and back to this asylum slum
|
|
One man, one woman
|
walk around Newington Green
|
the worst case of resemblance
|
in N16
|
|
I hate having to desire you
|
hate feeling this again
|
I hate having to desire you
|
in common with other men
|
|
My fellow-creature-gods look out
|
to be mutually blessed
|
this therapeutic age leaves them cold
|
so fashionably distressed
|
but I just want to be torn through
|
the material of your flesh
|
|
"Cheer up, it'll never happen" they said
|
"not every candle burns
|
lighting up these lonely nights
|
in this century of germs
|
so ... many ... happy ... returns"
|
|
"Cheer up it'll never happen" they said
|
"we're here on your behalf"
|
"It already has" I said
|
they evaporate and laugh
|
|
I hate having to desire you
|
hate feeling this again
|
I hate having to desire you
|
in common with other men
|
|
The best in life
|
it's nothing special
|
remember who said it
|
our lives are running
|
oh my little death
|
this is forever
|
the final edit
|
|
-----------------
|
Flesh
|
| Luxuria |
