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
Happy early corpsy birthday me corpse. I lost my cellular phone. Ever since I've been reading my rituals book, things have just been growing legs and walking off. Requesting "Anal Nancy's" Cell phone number I am. And yours as well. Anywhore, we'll have to talk this way for a while until Pogo gets a new phone. Infernal love much.