Greg
The Lord of Touch
There are rampant anal beads
Hanging from the walls
Of yesterday’s time
Of yesterday’s time
Singe a vase
That falls against the hall
Mask is all mine
Mask is all mine
If you could see
What you’re doing to me
The birds and the bees
Make light the debris
The only chance
Of a golden hand
To reach down and make me whole
Singing like the rhythm that shakes
Awake with no take
A gliding mistake that rides
Upon new rhythms
Feeling my mouth
Oblige my fingers
To run them out
Will the cunt rain??
No one knows
Of the movie
That shows
Castrating soldiers
And the answers to their woes
Rising up in armies
That deform the signs that show
Their balls have been demolished
By circumcising pain
That reduces love to petulance
And grand dreams down into shame
But to rise from the ashes
Breaking through the lashes
Call the angel trumpet
That rips asunder cashes
If you have bought one thing at a supermarket
If you have bought one thing from the pillars of the pig empire
May you burn
Steal ‘em steal ‘em all
I never will
But the balls to have ‘em
Still reside in some
But the answer’s don’t fight
Reside inside a light
That looks so bright
With a pain that kills the Jews
On a sunny afternoon
To lead to bombs of fire
That make the children swoon
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