She's Plainly an alias. An alien squid, she always been It's hilarious because all find her always this... Maybe always hid. Maybe she ceased to live? Maybe-it's-Maybelline? (Maybe it's make believe) She's not human baby, maybe born on rocket ship A Gray with owl eyes, wise and awful sick She heard this all before. It's a crock of shit Why? It's all just a drowsy hum. Just an axiom Buzzing around, inside the mental gymnasium Her mind: Is a special haven; some sobriety seat She thinks so quietly there...generates Ion heat Warms Food. For thought, like how lions eat Here she climbs any tree. She's any thing. No mind fatigue...Not diva, she thinks in Dynasty She, human bean Who thinks of hazy sun. Painted by blazing brush With rays that fuck the world because lack of love So down they come. Rays, words and warmth With Birds and worms. The thoughts and thorn Her life now loving. Blood born and pumping Flowing. Flooding. Rushing as it should She sighs. It's stiff outside, hot inside All so fucking good This inner success, this mental picture Are images of a sick bird. It must kill her
Psychobabble in an apple. Apple: DNA unravels, here it rattles Power Lord! On high in the hour. Battle fourth! Let me on high, Lord! In bagfulls'; if not, then by capsules (of course) My big stratagem, In the world Lord, Seeks out, brings in: the palpable, the coarse Picked apples. The masculine with apes, and damsels. The LIGHT. Set my eyes on high, Lord! Channel, channel. Channel number five. Animal. Animals. They' all singing live. Thesis, thesis. In between the species In the time of Jesus. In the name of Love against telekinesis . In half the hour, Jesus Falls. Falls. Water falls. Channel, channel. Channel alive. Animals. Animal. Animal telekinesis dies.
