Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Epizootics!, artist - Scott Walker.
Date of issue: 02.12.2012
Song language: English
Epizootics! |
Maman Neigho was frightened by Hawaiians, |
When all the veins ran out. |
When too much bone structure went missing, |
She thumbed the galleon Cacafuego. |
Forsook the eyebrows climbing |
Into greasy black hairlines. |
Narcrotic leis, |
Yanked down around the melianomed ankles. |
Their putrid petals dropping, |
Erasing the white shoes, |
Like a face being eaten |
By a jungle. |
Slabs of steam tables |
Whiffing of onions and roses. |
Haunted Jacuzzis churning. |
All night the native bods squealing Bflat, |
Like choirs of pigs |
Seeking revenge for stolen insulin. |
Blip, |
Boost, |
Bust, |
Brother. |
That’s how we copped a final, |
Reached this city without sound. |
Everywhere you turn, |
Bunkers of rubber hoses pronging |
Up, |
Off the city’s floor. |
Chirp, |
Chime, |
Clambaked, |
Cups. |
Don’t step on that rotting tartare. |
Just might bust your conk. |
Might lay your racket. |
Early black ickaroo. |
It’s dense. |
Tense. |
Unseen through, pound for pound. |
All the people, on the corners, |
Pushing each other around. |
Humping like buggers. |
Touching like muggers. |
Pushing each other around. |
Adepocere in a zoot, |
Sloshing, |
Karat, |
Ballooning down the street. |
Thousand kilos simpy. |
Forty stone send. |
Tips his skypiece, |
Come to weigh me up. |
But I’m toned. |
Gut bucket. |
Ground grippers ready to trilly. |
Layin' down iron. |
Togged to the bricks… |
SHHH… |
Let’s add a little shade. |
Try something apart from the hogshair. |
While Pope Julius affects his red slippers, |
Let Michelangelo tip-toe around |
In his dogskin boots. |
SHHH… |
The powder on a chalky bosom rises |
And hangs in the air. |
Clouds crawling through protracted blue, |
Like souls of insects. |
From threshing haze, |
The scent of spider lilies. |
Sam P’s |
Bagged decapitation rotates |
To the ocean floor, |
It’s nostrils |
Are twitching and sniffing. |
Gabriel’s, gravy, |
Got your glasses on, |
Gate. |
There’s some mezz glimmers, |
A gammon V8. |
Twisters in the slammer. |
Frisking their whiskers, |
Till peola dim, |
On the chime of black. |
It’s dense. |
Tense. |
Unseen through, pound for pound. |
Scratch and Jesus, on the corner, |
Pushing each other around. |
Shoving like sluggers. |
Touching like muggers. |
Pushing each other around. |
Snapping their caps. |
Slidin' their jibs. |
Lampin' the brees. |
Drapin' the trees. |
Oops, pardon the elbow. |
Lets just shift you over here. |
Sorry, |
I’m so clumsy. |
Take that accidently in the bollocks for a start. |
Seven brights jumped in port, |
Reached this city without sound. |
Kopasetic, on the corners, |
Pushing each other around. |
Everybody on the corners, |
Pushing each other around. |
Joe below, |
Hincty dicty. |
Slipped the pounders. |
Fews and two. |
Knock me. |
Boot me, |
Down in the land of darkness. |
Sweet Leilani, |
Heavenly flower |