Flies blacken out the books
Matches light the fire
Under bushes of thorn
The parson passes hours
Handing out the flowers
Like prayers around the houses
But he still ties his boot
The time is like twine wound
Clocks go round and round
Minutes of the rainfall
Entered in the log of crooks
Meetings undercover
And above their lovers
Fall over in the fallen rain
Trying to get cute
Chosen cheeses tumble
From the turnstile table
Baroque and broken Rococco
Furniture lay in pieces
Breadcrumbs of the madams
Leaving trails for Hansel
And Gretel to come wandering
To the house of ill repute
Every ant will wire
A message to their mother
In code between the covers
They know no one can shoot
Chambermaids go hungry
Next to pigs potbellies
Freedom wears an iron mask
No questions can be asked
By the red army recruit
I hold you in decision
Of a natural derision
Open courts are far from
Penny worth arcades
Z cars make the freeway
Superstars on the highway
While singing bums sing myway
Out beyond the Christmas Parade
And St Patrick is in his tower
struddling some snakes
For their only mistake
Was to justify their God
Dogs howl in the moonlight
Inside the garden of paradise
She is free from fire
And I am free from ice
If you see them coming,
You better ask for the magazine
They will shoot your picture
And leave your soul outside
The fruits of harbour waiver
Inside the semiquaver
Struck up upon a drum
Of black mirrors to the sun
And every hawk is heard
To cry in human words
The needs so babies come
Across the image
Of the one
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