Senses
Posted: Thu Aug 07, 2008 1:59 am
Senses
Scream and utter the echo of the past tense
As your hearing forgot the effects of absinthe
Compound fractures of the left lobe and angel glands
As you run your tired fingers, through the golden sands
And the feeling of the touch and the real senses, we produce
Could never be any further from the absolute truth
Slipping through the curtains of black despair
Into other dimensions, that exist , over there
Following the vacant lead of the Teddy's stare
The stallion happens to follow the errant paths of the mare
That wanders and sniffs in the green, open, grass
Opens the taste buds and wolfs the repast
Slide past the curtains of your collective fate
Collide into Space for the secrets of hate
Beyond the borrowing always on the grey slate
Look for the counterfeit, it's always a fake
Watch for the silver arm on the tranquil, placid lake
The people in power are always on the make
The Medusa and the lure of her hypnotising snakes
There are no real chances, I want to microscope the snow flakes
But keep turning to stone or the white, classical plaster
Way past the mistakes but in the master serpents of disaster
Keep counting and mapping the real force and the ley lines
That keep altering and moving the real, accepted face of time
My deals are generous, my deals are free
It's all coming out of the advertising that we see
Ten year old Glamour?
My voice it starts to stammer
Pick me up that bludgeoning and very dull hammer
It was not Love but an attempt to finally enamour.
Georges.
Scream and utter the echo of the past tense
As your hearing forgot the effects of absinthe
Compound fractures of the left lobe and angel glands
As you run your tired fingers, through the golden sands
And the feeling of the touch and the real senses, we produce
Could never be any further from the absolute truth
Slipping through the curtains of black despair
Into other dimensions, that exist , over there
Following the vacant lead of the Teddy's stare
The stallion happens to follow the errant paths of the mare
That wanders and sniffs in the green, open, grass
Opens the taste buds and wolfs the repast
Slide past the curtains of your collective fate
Collide into Space for the secrets of hate
Beyond the borrowing always on the grey slate
Look for the counterfeit, it's always a fake
Watch for the silver arm on the tranquil, placid lake
The people in power are always on the make
The Medusa and the lure of her hypnotising snakes
There are no real chances, I want to microscope the snow flakes
But keep turning to stone or the white, classical plaster
Way past the mistakes but in the master serpents of disaster
Keep counting and mapping the real force and the ley lines
That keep altering and moving the real, accepted face of time
My deals are generous, my deals are free
It's all coming out of the advertising that we see
Ten year old Glamour?
My voice it starts to stammer
Pick me up that bludgeoning and very dull hammer
It was not Love but an attempt to finally enamour.
Georges.