Weary of the thin men
Weary of the tin men
and people's sorcerors.
Bounties of grey
and dirty underwear
Is it all for us?
Brass coins jangle among my loins
while the long-haired one drinks wines
that were once water.
Why, Father?
When i was three,
I sat atop this tree
and watched you teach him the grind.
But it's fine.
Why, Mother?
It is dank and gloomy in my basement-cellar
a row of mindcells lead the way
to the awaited jailer.
I shall find him, I timed him: Arrival at ten past.
At last, sweet torment!
You have borne the moment.
But is it time?
Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.
Weary of the tin men
and people's sorcerors.
Bounties of grey
and dirty underwear
Is it all for us?
Brass coins jangle among my loins
while the long-haired one drinks wines
that were once water.
Why, Father?
When i was three,
I sat atop this tree
and watched you teach him the grind.
But it's fine.
Why, Mother?
It is dank and gloomy in my basement-cellar
a row of mindcells lead the way
to the awaited jailer.
I shall find him, I timed him: Arrival at ten past.
At last, sweet torment!
You have borne the moment.
But is it time?
Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.
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