Let’s relax for a moment.
A raison d’être will be our token.
The city is broken.
The few who’ve moved here haven’t spoken.
The fugue in Boston will have it lit for March,
Springing a dolphin jump over Constantine’s Arch.
But they can’t make their decisions in any sort of style.
It means we’ll be waiting in this district of oranges for a while.
The valley of the beast
Needs a decent release.
It’s good the smoke’s stopped here
Before killing all the Hudson’s flock of deer.
I’ve looked at you for a moment.
Wow, I didn’t die or become frozen!
I’ve taken the Chinese coast by storm
Soon my personality there will be all the norm.
They will be drinking my blood in Calcutta,
Drunks scrapping the Ganges for God, or the son of.
Yesuf they call him? He came here a few years?
Yes, here he learned the tricks to tear the Devil to tears.
By what caravan did he arrive jaded in gems?
Oh alone, discreet, no one can even swear it was him.
You don’t understand these new age Gods:
Not flashy, they’re more subtle with their charms.
Did he visit the Buddha’s holy tree?
Yes, there he envisioned how his would turn out to be.
Did he think the Empire would have come this far?
Yeah, but he never dreamed things would get so dark.
Shall we return to the tavern for one more drink?
Yes, by Jove, it’s the only thing that let’s us think!
One more question is nagging me: what about the girl?
Oh, he thought ’bout it a while, but then figured he’d save her
For the next World.
Sent from my iPhone
Posted via email from stephenpickering’s posterous
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