Stoned Sophia
Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 3:42 pm
She stands there silent as the marbled stone
Listening to the screams of the drowned and lost sailors
Past the gurgling, insipid, sounds of the forced waves
Wrapped around the neck with rope to asphixisated, perverted, graves
She comes to you most often in your last moments of death
Holding onto the ledge as the water, lubricates and forces you to drown
Falling down forever, like an eddying and errant feather in the silent vacumn
It is your body and flesh I manage to trick and hypnotise and finally assume
Past the crystalised, methane, ice rings around the Giant and majestic Jupiter orb
Towards the mystery of the perfect monolith that contains all the actions of the occult
Into the geometric and classic, white marbles of a triganometry classroom in deep space
Replicated sometimes in the many genetic combinations that tumble and form a human face
She stands all sad and all alone....
In the beach along the Pink Floyd surfing waves that echoed the Pompeii stone
Lava running under the Lacrima Christi grapes of the red mother's bloody curse
As the clip clip hooves of the ungodly are carried away in an elaborate Victorian hearse
She shakes her hips and gulps and manages to breathe....
That woman that you so often try and capture in the sexshops and windows of the slease
What is the name of this fountain that tumbles and cascades within my stoned head?
I think I have gone to heaven quietly and just wonder am I really alive or dead?
Georges.
Listening to the screams of the drowned and lost sailors
Past the gurgling, insipid, sounds of the forced waves
Wrapped around the neck with rope to asphixisated, perverted, graves
She comes to you most often in your last moments of death
Holding onto the ledge as the water, lubricates and forces you to drown
Falling down forever, like an eddying and errant feather in the silent vacumn
It is your body and flesh I manage to trick and hypnotise and finally assume
Past the crystalised, methane, ice rings around the Giant and majestic Jupiter orb
Towards the mystery of the perfect monolith that contains all the actions of the occult
Into the geometric and classic, white marbles of a triganometry classroom in deep space
Replicated sometimes in the many genetic combinations that tumble and form a human face
She stands all sad and all alone....
In the beach along the Pink Floyd surfing waves that echoed the Pompeii stone
Lava running under the Lacrima Christi grapes of the red mother's bloody curse
As the clip clip hooves of the ungodly are carried away in an elaborate Victorian hearse
She shakes her hips and gulps and manages to breathe....
That woman that you so often try and capture in the sexshops and windows of the slease
What is the name of this fountain that tumbles and cascades within my stoned head?
I think I have gone to heaven quietly and just wonder am I really alive or dead?
Georges.