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Tuesday, April 01, 2008




    The Doors - The Severed Garden
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    wow, im sick of doubt
    live in the light of certain south, cruel bindings
    the servants have the power
    dogmen and their mean women
    pulling poor blankets over our assailers

    i'm sick of dour faces staring at me from the tv tower
    i want roses in my garden bower, dig?
    royal babies, rubies, must now replace aborted strangers in the mud
    these mutants blood meal for the plant that's ploughed

    they are waiting to take us into the severed garden
    you know how pale and wanton, thrillful comes death
    in the strange hour
    unannounced, unplanned for
    like a scary over-friendly guest you've brought to bed

    death makes angels of us all and gives us wings
    where we had shoulders smooth as ravens' claws

    no more money, no more fancy dress
    this other kingdom seems by far the best
    until its other jaw reveals incest
    and loose obedience to a vegetable law

    i will not go
    prefer a feast of friends to the giant family


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