A cloud of flies obscure the sun A stone is dropped the dream undone Ripples grow and ride the tide The dead thing crawls from deep inside
With its dying sour breath The burning smell of insect flesh Hungry things in circles crowd Around TV's turned up to loud
We are the dead next door Where the dirty needles shine and litter the floor Taste the light inject the lord I cut myself again because I'm so fuckin' bored
The dream is swirling, I'm alone Where the streets are paved with bone Buildings with a hundred eyes Watch me thru the swarming flies
Behind shades pulled down tight Things are growing without light Hungry things in circles crowd Around TV's turned up to loud
The dream sea has been poisoned The stop light splashes me red Innocence suffocated in its sleep
Dr. Seuss is dead
Whhhhyyyyy hello man fucker yourself. You haven't lost your Pogo yet. Or ever. I just drift from one deminsional quarter of the universe to the other from time to time. I haven't had a home phone since we moved in our new place. If you call (623) 206-3418, then we can talk for a little. But sometime after 9:00 p.m. I miss talking to my Nancy O' Nancy too !!! The reign of the Pogo lives on !!! !!! !!! WE WILL hook up again my "Alice". I swear it !!! I need to be back in that band again sooooooooo bad I do !!! We (my mother and I) were homeless for a few months and barely had contact with anyone. But good now. (home wise) Call your "stink Pogo everlasting" A.S.A.P. !!! HE IS WAITING, not sleeping.