
Date of issue: 05.01.2010
Song language: English
Aboriginal Anemia |
You sit watching your brother die 'cause he chewed on sickly rabbit |
Poor boy Parzifal likes to hunt his sister, and so infection sets in like a |
gang of wolves licking at the heels of the anemic aboriginal hunting grounds, |
where you sprain your thumb throwing rocks at cadavers |
Bashing in my weakened knees, bashing in my weakened knees… |
Animal people scale the walls so easily: your bitter family! |
Holding court without your brother, rectify your viral sanction |
Anxious ears solicit thee, my snarling spies sit down to tea and ignore the |
bubbling sores that swell and spit along your backbone! |
Call your general, fortify his skin so my disease can’t penetrate your china |
shack of ignorance and purple turbans! |
Split the bread between your chins, annihilate bacteria! |
Eating, breeding serfs and peasants, bloody plague-boys stealing crumbs! |
Bashing in my weakened knees, bashing in my weakened knees… |
Stripling arrows ricochet off teeth and crystal nighttime goblets |
Dinner party, dinner guests, eat their dinners facing west |
You fling your curses forth and they are swallowed by the Masque, by the trees, |
by the hollow oddities! |
Bashing in my weakened knees, bashing in my weakened knees… |