I lay down inside the maddened throng,
an orgy of succulent and youthful flesh
turned grey and watery in the pale facade
of an age passing into light.
the hooks of every faux-pas are
the jewels in my crown,
my crowning glory,
the polemic
softened by the succumbing of years on my belief,
so here it is (will be) that I integrate my death,
wilted by the milkless bosom upon the
scented palms unique to a child in distress.
Soon I will be at rest.
an orgy of succulent and youthful flesh
turned grey and watery in the pale facade
of an age passing into light.
the hooks of every faux-pas are
the jewels in my crown,
my crowning glory,
the polemic
softened by the succumbing of years on my belief,
so here it is (will be) that I integrate my death,
wilted by the milkless bosom upon the
scented palms unique to a child in distress.
Soon I will be at rest.
the lyric posted on my blog is actually by Creston Spiers; it is the song Pinocchio's Example by his band Harvey Milk. my transcription is an approximation, as he "sings" it in such a slow baritone that it is almost incomprehensible...