| Whilst his mother’s womb contained the growing Baal
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| Even then the sky was waiting quiet and pale
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| Naked, young, immensely marvellous
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| Like Baal loved it, when he came to us
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| That same sky remained with him in joy and care
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| Even when Baal slept peaceful and unaware
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| At night a lilac sky, a drunken Baal
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| Turning pious as the sky grows pale
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| So through hospital, cathedral, whiskey bar
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| Baal kept moving onwards and just let things go
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| When Baal’s tired, boys, Baal cannot fall far
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| He will have his sky down there below
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| When the sinners congregate in shame together
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| Baal lay naked, revelling in their distress
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| Only sky, a sky that will go on forever
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| Formed a blanket for his nakedness
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| And that lusty girl, the world, who’ll laughing yield
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| To the men who’ll stand the pressure of her thighs
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| Sometimes gave him love-bites, such as can’t be healed
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| Baal survived it, he just used his eyes
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| And when Baal saw lots of corpses scattered round
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| He felt twice the thrill, despite the lack of room
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| «Space enough» said Baal, «then I’ll thicken the ground
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| Space enough within this woman’s womb»
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| Any vice for Baal has got its useful side
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| It’s the man who practices it, he can’t abide
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| Vices have their point, once you see it as such
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| Stick to two for one will be too much
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| Slackness, softness are the sort of things to shun
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| Nothing could be harder than the quest for fun
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| Lots of strength is needed and experience too
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| Swollen bellies can embarrass you
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| Under gloomy stars and this poor veil of tears
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| Baal will graze a pasture till it disappears
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| Once it’s been digested to the forest’s teeth
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| Baal trod singing for a well earned sleep
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| Baal can spot the vultures in the stormy sky
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| As they wait up there to see if Baal will die
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| Sometimes Baal pretends he’s dead, but vultures swoop
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| Baal in silence dines on vulture-soup
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| When the dark womb drags him down to its prize
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| What’s the world still mean to Baal, he’s overfed
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| So much sky is lurking still behind his eyes
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| He’ll just have enough sky when he’s dead
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| Once the Earth’s dark womb engulfed the rotting Baal
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| Even then the sky was up there, quiet and pale
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| Naked, young, immensely marvellous
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| Like Baal loved it when he lived with us |