Working title: Church
I saw the ghosts upon the beach
I saw their skin as pale as bleach
I took the ghosts right up the hill
I took them to the church that sat above the mill
The congregation did not care
The congregation was not there!
How many dead bodies was this church built on? (turn on the lights!)
I can see their hands! I can see their hands! I can see them singing!
I can hear them now! I can hear them now! I can see them clapping!
Out of the organ, I can feel it! There's a buzz, buzz, buzzing
Let me give it, let me take it, on my knees at the garbage altar
When you can smell and breathe it
Open up and believe it
We're inside a cloud of flies
In the middle of a cloud of flies
* * * * *
Working title: Blood And Stoats
Blood...and stoats...
Blood...and stoats...
Blood and stoats
Their teeth, your throat
Your hands and wrists
Are bound with rope
These lines are knives
These words that choke
And then you find
The blood, a stoat
Blood and stoats
A sail, a boat
Your hopes and dreams
They fail to float
A grim parade
Invades and gropes
It drains your blood
Dries out the stoat
Blood and stoats
A carved-up goat
The future's gown
A crimson coat
The stars, they fall
A widow's shawl
It barely copes
To cover a stoat
You put the cunt in insignificant
Oh the truth is puerile
You put the dick in predictable
Oho the truth is puerile
* * * * *
Working title: Cathedral
You want to mess with the flowers?
They'll mess you up when you're fast asleep
They will spread their vines inside your veins
Roots as far as the mirror's deep
Gathered in hand, gathered in hand
Gathered up in bunches, tied in knots
They'll lay us down in the compost
Leave us out back, ready to rot
Oh yeah
They called it the march of the flowers
Have you seen the planet's anfger?
Have you seen its teeth and claws?
Have you seen its many gestures
When you're behind closed doors?
Like the light in the refridgerator
Out like a candle in the winter wind
When the spores settle on you
That's when the world war will begin
Here comes the march of the flowers
