Lyric A Feast Of Friends

wow, i m sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
Cruel bindings.
The servants have the power
Dog-men and their mean women
Pulling poor blankets over
Our sailors

I m sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the tv
Tower, i want roses in
My garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
Must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
For the plant that s plowed.

They are waiting to take us into
The severed garden
Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful
Comes death on a strange hour
Unannounced, unplanned for
Like a scaring over-friendly guest you ve
Brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
And gives us wings
Where we had shoulders
Smooth as raven s
Claws

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
Until it s other jaw reveals incest
And loose obedience to a vegetable law.

I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the giant family.