From the sky
to the ground.
Five point one and the dolby surround.
Check out the sound.
One two three four five six seven. Dogma
Wisdom vision and stereo sight
selling the world for a slice of delight.
Paradise here and apocalypse there
better beware if you don’t pay your fare.
Feel my funk.
Shake my chunk.
Here comes the monk
but the bitch is drunk.
I read a story but the pages were blank.
No money in the bank, just a guitar skank.
Maybe the time has come my man.
She said that you can’t but I’m sure you can.
Shoulder to the door if it gets hardcore.
The boar is raw but you’re asking for more.
The sun and the moon deep in the skin.
Red, red, red, and we’re rubbing it in.
No more water; wait for the plumber
it’s quarter to four in the middle of the summer.
I haven’t seen the truth for at least a week.
Listen to the angel speak:
“what the fuck are you doing?
What the fuck are you doing?
What the fuck are you doing?”
He’s been making love all night,
now he is late for breakfast.
She didn’t want to fuck because
people were throwing rocks at her.
Eating too many yoghurts.
The spider might have escaped.
Jumping all over the bus, asking to be baptised.
Music is waking me up.
You bastard let my wife sleep.
We’ve got a busy day ahead of us,
maybe we’ll die before the sun sets.
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