Cinema Strange

Greensward Grey There is blood on the hooves of the fauns on the greensward grey For they tread through the gristle on the lawn today... Don't they see the roseate faces of my wives, As they lay disembowelled on the greensward grey? This park is rank and slippery, Skip and watch the kite tails, don't trip on the entrails, white and ligamental blossoms jutting from the earth, when have toadstools ever grown toenails? These brains are old and tired but they have not forgotten my harem from decades past. sundry screams for the beast in the backseat... Springtime is mythical Blood can be pastoral brushed on and painted after they've fainted... Pan goats are criminal Hairy backs and abysmal breath, like a drown bog, swamp-soaked and wet-dog. There is one woman walking on the greensward grey, But I feel she'll be followed by a friend or three. Don't they see the pink-spittle coating on my teeth, That will seal every kiss from my lips today. I could classify dead hooved animals, I could catalogue female corpses, but catarrh ruins my breath when grasses reach and start my ending I could classify, I could classify... I am sitting like a cyst on the greensward grey, and my god! there are satyrs who are damp and fey, Iron-shod, and so hysterical! they look at up(?) at dripping red fauna... Dripping red fauna...

Hebenon Vial Stuck on with dynamite, and live in disgrace like the fool that you told you to. Dancing like philanthropist, cutting and scraping the dogs that lick at you. Padlock the door to the basement swing down the stairs on the back of the lizard. And watch every inch... when you are building the walls that cover you Shine like a dagger and poison in woodland, and laugh like a wet-nurse with a sword through your breast. Funny like thumbscrews and ripe guillotines, and maidens when drowning and electric chairs... Shine like a dagger and poison in woodland, and laugh like a wet-nurse with a sword through your breast. Funny like thumbscrews and ripe guillotines, and maidens when drowning and electric chairs... Murder most foul... incestuous sheets... Hebenon vial... t'were madness discreet... Murder most foul... incestuous sheets... Hebenon vial... t'were madness discreet... Consanguinity, and the bastard's aloof with a nose just like a pig. Assassins are sleeping... and the man in the orchard's a king with a queen. Giggling beastly and prey on the birdy fly low over stone and banshees Hopscotch for bombs in your bed and believe what you hear from the pervert who hides under... Shine like a dagger and poison in woodland, and laugh like a wet-nurse with a sword through your breast. Funny like thumbscrews and ripe guillotines, and maidens when drowning and electric chairs... Shine like a dagger and poison in woodland, and laugh like a wet-nurse with a sword through your breast. Funny like thumbscrews and ripe guillotines, and maidens when drowning and electric chairs... Murder most foul... incestuous sheets... Hebenon vial... t'were madness discreet... Murder most foul... incestuous sheets... Hebenon vial... t'were madness discreet... Batty and bruises on cheek, and the porcelain shards of the sink stuck in your face. Shoelaces dragging in wet and cold of the dungeon allures like a finger, Holding in calm dimension the harrowing phantom aloft in your courtyard, Fading in crown, rapier, he stills the blood of the jack that runs through your veins. Shine like a dagger and poison in woodland, and laugh like a wet-nurse with a sword through your breast. Funny like thumbscrews and ripe guillotines, and maidens when drowning and electric chairs... Shine like a dagger and poison in woodland, and laugh like a wet-nurse with a sword through your breast. Funny like thumbscrews and ripe guillotines, and maidens when drowning and electric chairs... Murder most foul... incestuous sheets... Hebenon vial... t'were madness discreet... Murder most foul... incestuous sheets... Hebenon vial... t'were madness discreet...

Millions Of Flies They crept like hinged legs and suction cup toe touch, Leaving like dew drops their itch and infection. Even Anopheles hastens for distance, Losing an arm outstretched, keeping her burden. They are a sound that grew silent and then found Looking-glass ladies and children with psora. "We are the monsters who smile after crib-death, We are the grace for the clinically dead." "We love the hiding guns!" "We hate the iron lung!" "We go fast on black ice!" "We are a million flies!" "We love the hiding guns! We hate the iron lung! We go fast on black ice! We are a million flies!" Their eyes were compound, imagine their seething! Hands like a scavenger's, instantly curious. Even Hippocrates humoured Finality, He heard the flysound and then learned antithesis. Dead in the parlour, with dust like a membrane, Fly friends are dreaming of veins and antennae. And when the family gathers to star Lights are too low for the pink-painted cheekbones.

Speak Marauder Pay no heed to the fool in the field so far and grey, With spies, like the serpents underfoot and rodents, Legs of wood, burlap, canvas, belt and hood... And scream like freezing rusty nails and stitches running through his neck... There's straw in his brains, And his clothing is stained, With mice and small newts and the perfectly maimed. Don't look under his hood, Where he stood, Or you'll find yourself running from the rook in the wood. There's straw in his brains, And his clothing is stained, With mice and small newts and the perfectly maimed. Don't look under his hood, Where he stood, Or you'll find yourself running from the rook in the wood. Wind and leaves are rustling, turning, naked branches reaching, reaching. Taunted vigil... weeping on his stick, and now he's bleeding. He can hear the pest and when it's gnawing through... Rope and rowan cast him when the raven flew... He can see the darkness in the trees, and feel the hollow. And then frighten children far too young, for this winter. He can live his fear and die and talk again... Always in the glade where dark and chill begin... Speak marauder, speak marauder There's straw in his brains, And his clothing is stained, With mice and small newts and the perfectly maimed. Don't look under his hood, Where he stood, Or you'll find yourself running from the rook in the wood. There's straw in his brains, And his clothing is stained, With mice and small newts and the perfectly maimed. Don't look under his hood, Where he stood, Or you'll find yourself running from the rook in the wood. He stalks the path at night and scratch and fly, Stepping lightly, tries so hard to stain underneath... And crawls the dampened earth like fog, tasting blades... And then falling back upon his sleep, screaming softly He stalks the path at night and scratch and fly, Stepping lightly, tries so hard to stain underneath... And crawls the dampened earth like fog, tasting blades... And then falling back upon his sleep, screaming softly Screaming softly... Pay no heed to the fool in the field so far and grey, With spies, like the serpents underfoot and rodents, Legs of wood, burlap, canvas, belt and hood... And scream like freezing rusty nails and stitches running through his neck... Speak marauder, speak marauder Wind and leaves are rustling, turning, naked branches reaching, reaching. Taunted vigil... weeping on his stick, and now he's bleeding. He can hear the pest and when it's gnawing through... Rope and rowan cast him when the raven flew... He can see the darkness in the trees, and feel the hollow. And then frighten children far too young, for this winter. He can live his fear and die and talk again... Always in the glade where dark and chill begin... brained and stained and perfectly maimed... under his hood where he stood in the wood... brained and stained and perfectly maimed... under his hood where he stood in the wood...

Aboriginal Anemia

'Ere The Flowers Unfold Please come near me Will you hold me? I am leaking so very badly Will you stop up my holes? If your answer is, "No, I'm busy." I will follow you out to the garden I can smell you from three miles away. If your answer is, "Get me dirty," You can stop up my holes so nicely. I won't leak anymore. If your answer is "No, I'm sleepy." I will stare at your face with longing. I will chew on your face. I will chew on your face. I will chew on your face. And then the night comes like an unfolding unscented flower... I'll be sent away.

Lindsay's Trachea Setting Manhattan high-rise... the plush, expensively finished office of Dr. John Lindsay, esteemed psychiatrist and mysterious New York scientist. He is about to die. Cast Dr. Lindsay - described above Arkham Deadfly - the good doctor's murderous alter-ego and Assorted flies, larva, beetles, rats, and shadows Part One Dr. Lindsay: Oh isn't it nice, falling and hating me? Here, breathing the air through Lindsay's trachea! Oh, rendered and torn, spilling my glass to the floor, Hands in my hair, pulling and patiently dying. Part Two Dr. Lindsay: "Why are you here?" were my words and I screamed them. "Could you destroy a man in mid day?" Arkham Deadfly: "Dreaming and evening, so are we twins. Listen, I whisper: your lips, how they twitch! The doorway is swarming with larva today, Seething and screaming as friendly men play. Thou art the empty, I am the thin. We are the bending blade stuck in your ribs! Thou art a tempest, I am the wind. We are the fallen men tortured and skinned" Part Three Arkham Deadfly: "I've run this way twice before and always the rats wading through dust... Doctor, silent and still, were you calling to me? The skies overhead have been crowded with wings, but hear the flies how they sing! I've inched my way through mist before, and always the bugs leading my lungs! Doctor silent and still, were you calling to me? The skies overhead have been crowded with wings, but hear the flies how they sing!"

En Hiver I love to hate you, I am in winter. Frostbite hath claimed me, succumb to numbness... Freezing men don't laugh at murder. Bleeding naked in the bathtub. Open windows tempt the savory, women's heads float just as easily. Within the confines of crystal, reflected is my loathing. Under ice and still, chill waters fish bite stiff men and children. Freezing men don't laugh at murder. Bleeding naked in the bathtub. Open windows tempt the savory, women's heads float just as easily. In the fog in the woods at midnight, in a land where it's always winter, I cut the thin skin of my ankle and the sting follows me like army. Lashing like a bullwhip in the arctic, I fling icicles like beesting. Caught in the glass of the sphere in the snowfall, I shut my eyes and sleep in sleet. Freezing men don't laugh at murder. Bleeding naked in the bathtub. Open windows tempt the savory, women's heads float just as easily. J'adore detester, je suis en hiver... J'adore detester, je suis en hiver...

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