DITZ - Don Enzo Magic Carpet Salesman

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Sand slips Like it always does Maybe we should have left hourglass on it's side It's wasp like waist Hovering over the tablecloth We had it good while it lasted You'd never have known at the time The spread immaculate in it's array and taste Along come a glutton chasing it's tail with ravenous twinkle in its eye A blue eyed look on creation But i don't feel awe and i don't feel wonder I only see patchwork odds and ends glued together, with reckless abandon Ketchup on cake, mustard pie, fish coulis, you can't eat forever As much as you wish you could I hope your tail tastes good you son of a bitch He hasn't raised a child, it's only his spawn A goddamn festering mess, sticky to touch, bulbous and wet Gross beyond humanity's ever lasting reach You circle the world I circle it too I hope your tail tastes good you son of a bitch If you like it enough, you might choke I hope you don't spew your feckless emergence We are not gracious we are not living If you follow us around licking your lips, shaking your hips I hope your tail tastes good you son of a bitch I hope it tastes good I hope it tastes good I hope your tail tastes good you son of a bitch Grass knoll parts Spread between pyramid fights We haven't seen the last of the ice age I've never seen god But i've never known life outside the confines of this cage Eagle eye, eagle eye Every time i glance There something different And it pulls, from the grace of the world that's in flames Every time i glance There something different And it pulls, from the grace of the world that's in flames Every time i glance Every time i glance Every time i glance It pulls, from the grace of the world that's in flames Every time i glance There something different And it pulls, from the grace of the world that's in flames I recognise your face I know how you paint it I keep the door locked, i leave the key upon the table I recognise your face I commit it to future paper A paper made charade It's just a memory Selling hearts, not just bleeding ones Killing time, a witless version of fun Trim the hedge, prune the bush I grab and pull and cut anything of use You and i are done You are done creating You and i are done You wrote your own obituary You and i are done You are done creating You and i are done You wrote your own obituary It's only miasma The way i breed Everything you want Is easy It's only miasma The way i breed Everything you want Is easy It's easy You and i are done You are done creating You and i are done You wrote your own obituary You and i are done You are done creating You and i are done You wrote your own obituary I lie awake In a cupboard filled with paint I rub it almost everywhere As i try to escape I peep through a crack in the door I let out a shriek A cry, a desperate plea And then suddenly I am invisible again Just a ghost Just a whisper of the past The accomplice, shh The accomplice, shh
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