Mr. Electric we are dying to dine in your house of mirrors...
Mr. Electric, open your beak we want in, the city under
your skin's dull glistening. When your skyscraper's husk
peel off like coconut crust (we drink deep from the barbitu-
rate brew) When your rape trumpet's tune softens like the
womb (we drink deep from the barbiturate brew). When
your smiles broken shards scrape the film from our
hearts... You stuffed our mouths with blasphemy! you
wrapped our bones in circuitry!
Wandering your streets like damp newspaper tumbling
turning in the wind. And the concrete in your sky parts
like pink lid eye, watch the fun squeal through it's death
leather veil.
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We are dying to dine when your garden of mirror vomits
from the ground. To see our wombs impregnated with gun-
powder and lead, shot from your Siamese Love. We know
you're watching we know you're watching we know you're
watching Mr. Electric Ocean.
Photos