Machete Dance


Garrick_as_RichardIII
Oh lord I don’t understand
I couldn’t explain

You used to be so quiet
Our invisible angel
Working your magic
While we slept

You labored so hard
We were so proud
We thought you knew
We thought you knew

I know we never went
Down to see you
We didn’t need to
A relationship built on trust

Why would you come up?
The light’s bad for your eyes
Why would you come up?
A place for everything and everything in its place

I could see it in your eyes
You were not well
It wasn’t hard to tell
We told you to rest

Who could have predicted?
Those eyes
Those perturbing red and green eyes
Lost in a sea of white

That horrible nose
Hair sticking out
Snot falling out
Bulbous, porous, yellow and red

Not a pleasant sight
But not a monster either

Those hands
So much kindness in those hands
So much cruelty in those hands
What did we ever do to you?

Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!
Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!

Say good night!
I am not afraid, Sir!
Say good night!
Lead me back home, Sir!

A giant snake
Slithered out of your right sleeve
And devoured my daughter
Devoured my daughter, cruel fiend!

A pack of bats
Flew out of your left sleeve
And devoured my son
Devoured my son, cruel fiend!


Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!
Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!

Say good night!
I am not afraid, Sir!
Say good night!
Lead me back home, Sir!

Spiders
Crawled out of your pants, Good Lord
They crawled out of your pants, cruel fiend
And devoured my wife

But the machete
You pulled it out of your belt
Oh, you pulled it out of your belt
Yes, you pulled it out of your belt

A flaming machete
It lit up your face
No skin or blood at all
Just sunken empty dry bone

Was God punishing me? Oh no!
Was Satan punishing me? Oh no!
I treated you right
You demon-dead-man-maniac-ghost



Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!
Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!

Say good night!
I am not afraid, Sir!
Say good night!
Lead me back home, Sir!

Haaaa-ooooo
The cemetery is calling
The cemetery is calling
Haaaa-ooooo

A rusty old machete
You pulled it out from your belt
and hacked me up
You hacked me up, cruel fiend!

I had done nothing
Just trying to help
I didn’t deserve
Degenerate jealousy, madness, no faith

Was it all a bad dream?
Are you still laboring below?
Tell me, oh Lord
Are you still laboring below?

I should beat some morals into you
or bury you in a hole



Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!
Oh, follow the swing of the machete and dance!
Oh, hear it strike, hear it strike!

Say good night!
I am not afraid, Sir!
Say good night!
Lead me back home, Sir!

Anúncios

Forever Walking

Vagabond_Walking_at_Night
Walking and walking
You can go nowhere
Forever

Stares and frowns
Rushed closed and locked
Doors and hushed voices

What are you doing here?
What am I doing here?
What a bother

Walking and walking
Forever
Nowhere you can go

If we talked to everyone
Would we still be alone?
Together-apart?

The door’s open
Come in
Have a tea, fix my shower

Life is a series of transactions
But we only fake it half the time
Assuming you can cleave halves and haves

Life is getting screamed at
In a parking lot
Without knowing why

People just want assurance
So shut up
And give it to them

Walking and walking
Forever you can go
Nowhere

There’s so much I know
It feels like I know everything
Until I leave my bed

Never trust a poet

Carl_Spitzweg_-_Der_arme_Poet_(Entwurf)
This talk of equality
sounds so very beautiful
but would you not sell them all out
for a brick of French cheese?

Would you not chop up their toes
and toss them in a stew
if someone offered to serve
your head on an album cover?

You speak to me of
challenges you’ve faced
I believe you
I do

But challenges come cheap
in this fucking world
and some people have a pile
a goddamn mountain collection

Maybe one day you’d give up the cheese
and the vinyl
but would you relinquish a suffering past
fucking would you?

We’re all Superman in our heads
we may even rage like Batman
but in our hearts, our stubborn little hearts
we’re still trembling knights of banality

When the queen is dead
we’d probably be moved to tears
but we’d sooner fight for prestige
than honor

We’d sooner lock ourselves in a cage
than free the world
and we’d rather live off death
than die living

It’s too cold out for odes to equality
so put a jacket on
and go back inside
or you’ll catch something

Far from books and desk
shivering, is no place
to long to be clever or original
it’s why they say: Never trust a poet!