Oak Leaves Lyrics

And

As my hands were behind my back

I wrote one word on the envelope

My face

It was still soaked through

With the golden leaves upon it

Oak leaves

Again he changed

This time to create surplus flesh

On his lean body

His fingers shook slightly

When others mentioned the bugs with long feelers

A stop light goes on for self security

He is aggressive

Hundreds perhaps thousands of flux pods

Were making their way

Seizing the spray

Far up

A few hundred yards above the street lighting

Closer to the wall

It's true

That is where they come from

And the other things up the river

Over a time variant

Over fifteen hours

Like leaves before the wind

Looking down

Perfectly still

His ears breathing

Gingerly grasped the edge of the hatch

Hit it with a few small charges

A stimulating effect

And the lights thrust

And the action had secrets

Twenty-seven on her labia

And a thick one was being applied to her clitoris

So she decided to bide her time

For the time being at least

But something surely was doing things

To his intuition intelligence and wisdom

The second girl now approached him

A naked girl

Holding a handful of powder to the Southeast

To the sodden forest below

About ten years back

The idols of old

The false floppy discs were prolific

The hiss heralded a menacing step forward

Around and around

What noise was unscrewed or pulled out for

For Heaven is dusted

with a bit of fat bottom rubble

the ancient text messaging word patterns

the grace of the children of the film cartridge

I'll be shopping for the intelligentsia

Greens into a riot of colour

Across cryptographers smoking cigarettes

Bow down the wall

Profitable in business

Certain of themselves

It's designed that way

Never went to the out fringes

A row of metals across

One thousand two hundred bowed nipples

They stole it from his hands

Paralysed from action by giant cryptographer

Hoarding stolen ingots

Storage banks

Your trust isn't it kind of col

No I haven't

You would think that I don't blame you

You're not the first

At the same time

I've told the best friend

An imperfect child

Whatever

The motley assortment

Of two or three dozen in the same place

Grown from the tangled wreckage

What's going on

He's alone

Books were scattered all over

He was going to get swamped

Frowned on

On the far wall

A patch of red light and useless decorations

Secret photographs

Pain sounds pleasure sounds

Meant nothing

From the window of the office

I looked down

And the streaming rain ran rusted guttering

Turning to powder

At the end of the line

Slates had blown

Heavy rainfall sprayed

Levered aside the stones

Pounded demolished houses

Peeled off dragging

Bobbing minivans along the water

Surged back and forth

Smashed dancers took running dives

And began to writhe

In a deep sea of leathery animals

Genitals

Objects

Faces that meant nothing

Tossed large slabs of stone

Falling with bits of soil and sea everywhere

Overflowed dropped drowning

Birds guts flowers rats and mice

Golden grave goods

A length of splintered branch

Human limbs

Hunter and hunted

Mixed deeper and deeper

So deeply

And he waited for it to subside

And start a pattern

To cause a shape to be formed

High enough to stand in like a fortification

Like thirty feet of cement chamber

That reeked of bones and body odour

Along one side there was a soggy flap

It dripped its earthly grime

Somewhat like a massive fountain pen

At the other end

There was what appeared to be a tiny square lens

I'm checking to see

That the plate is secure

Things didn't look too good

They're whispering

Clothes will not be worn

While the computers take over

I kicked the door open

Tiny particles of dust drifted upward

Inside was an enormous protective web

Clogged with shit

Ancient shit

Beatnik shit

If I yelled

It got stuck in my throat

I turned away and as I turned

Polycarbonate phlegm filtered the sunlight

Beaming in through the windows

I moved forward

Barefooted in the wreckage

That rose five stories

Wooden crates filed in spirals

Looked as if they had been standing there for years

A wash basin

Jig steps

And the oddball characters

Attract many flies

Coughed up memories of the old ones

Thousands prowl the laboratory

It's on the map and in the vocabulary

A sleeping animal fog drifted across the street

River fog slurring social strata

Different levels of wealth

Races languages and cultures

The elements whipped

The powdered grime and thorny tentacles

Moss and dandelions

An ant's eye view

Is not the only point of vantage

Up close

The buildings were even more grey and damp

Windows and doors were securely shuttered silent

Total silence

To the noise

To the sound