Love Among The Mannequins - Joseph Cassel or John Michael Ernahue or God, D-16 | Текст песни

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• Love Among The Mannequins
• Joseph Cassel or John Michael Ernahue or God, D-16

I swept past Saint Francis in clouds of brass on Lao Tzu’s shin.
The mirror is a misericorde.

I sang to Plato’s pen a petrified black requiem.
The mirror is a misericorde.

I seeded a poet’s kiss to Nietzsche’s mewling syphilis.
The mirror is a misericorde.

Scratch a Joseph and you'll find a Jospehine.
Scratch a testicle and you'll find an ovary.

The mirror is a misericorde
The mirror is a misericorde

Invert him if you can: your peeling Schmerzensmann.

Q: “Who wrote Woyzeck?” A: “Buchner!”

No, no, no! He stole it from God!
Thermodynamics is a thief's safe.
The trompe l'oile of a time-grave.
They’re all its nom de plumes;
they’re its inter-fucking dopplegangers.

Q: “And Madame Bovary?” A: “Flaubert!”

No, no, no! He stole it from God!
Peeled open Eden with a sweet tooth to core the apple of the mot juste.
But mot justes are membranes;
the corneas of my paper eyeballs.

Q: “And The Ego and the Id?” A: “Freud!”

No, no, no! He stole it from God!
Who created all the sulkers?
Detuned the static in the sulcus?
Their choice is my voice;
this institution is a ring of heaven.
My true mouth has a billion teeth.
I'm a rainbow in a human sheath.
I'm twelve miles of missed smiles.
I'm the shadow cast behind your shadow.
So I understand when I'm not there you think you don't miss me and you think you don't care.
But drunk, alone, in a half-empty house,
I move the furniture when you fall over.

One day, you’ll know.
“Ecce homo.”
In dreams you’ll crow “Ecce Homo”.