Lyrics Healer's Lament - Mats Gustafsson, Andreas Werliin, Hans Joachim Irmler

Healer's Lament

Lament for the poet
Swallowed by the cracks in the streets
Flowers for the dead musician
Strangled by a bill collector
In a bank parking lot
Prayers for the painter
Drowned in white acrylic
No words we have for the dancer
Split apart by indecision
Sacred clap
Holy feel alight
Martyrs, healers
Why does beauty wave from dung
Calloused and unnoticed
Wise sweat of the heart invisible
Why must love ache
And peel in loneliness
Like orphans in the trash bins of the world
Dog shit
On the juggler vein
The masterpiece submerged in the abyss of blood
A painting hung
On the wall backwards
Lost to the eyes of babies
Why will sons die before their fathers?
Why do daughters give birth to children
With faces that add up to zero?
As we sit in constant halls
With chastity belts and earmuffs
Promoters, robotic music
Cancerous and vile
Mouth stuffed with tombstones
Mutilators of dreams
Battered rams spitting graffiti on uterus walls
Watermelon seeds swelling in asphalt
Traffic jams and drive-by shootings and pistol-whipped lovers
Paintings in the shadows, dancing in the spotlights of helicopters
Woe to the lost fruit and all of its nectar
Woe to the suspended soul suspended in an unformed universe
Crumb snatched
Slipped into a world of ice
Wrapped in a nightmare of AIDS tattoos and crack smoke sunglasses
No eye smooth, no navel smooth, no mouth smooth
Only nostrils plugged with the funk of dreamless men
Scripted over the length of their lives
Scripted with a pitchfork
At the edge of flame
The place where they came together
Is the place where they fell apart
They look at each other to avoid the cracked eggs
Chanting the Pledge of Allegiance
To a pitbull with a billy club
In an ocean of cracked viles and Uzi shells
Planned parenthood discussed in a think tank
Hitler became an American citizen
And hope floats in empty path of
Sailing down a gutter river
And five million forty ounce bottles of liquor
Filtered through the bladder of a ghost
That’s about to lose his pants
Holiness uttered from the bastard lips
Suck fire from ocean to stars in a drop of blood to have been to the place of
torment
And return with a badge of scars
And praise on the lips
And the silence you will understand
The ears turn inward
The work sits on the desk of the heart
Under the light of mind
The soul sweats
Extract wisdom from the tear
When the horse of desires obtained
Read into a new horizon
Then you will move through the body of God as a healing agent
Instead of a disease