Sunday 30 November 2008

Angels

In this batavia arcadia
Head trip wet dream while whiting on the floor
Blurred angel faces leer out of the dark
They smile and wrap me in their feedback wings

In rooms, on human carpets, in the night
The walls forgive lost children lying there
That love and fall and drink and smoke and fight
In holy haze that keeps them up for days
They strip their drunk ecstatic spirits bare


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