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Pink Guillotine

by The Sinister Quarter

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1.
A growling monster staring at the shadows of the cave wall named each silhouette - fuck I even love them all. But rumbles the granite and douses the flame each and every time they move on without it. Door opens, room sizzling, viewing the field. Approximating the odds, watching their eyes. Notes the crutch, leans on the bar, absorbs the mood. The chi is good, the smoke is heavy finishing the first drink. Readying the lance, sounding the juke-box, ordering the shields, taking aim he says to her: Hello I'm me I was hoping you'd be someone who wanted to help my tormentor in aging my anguish. He's ever so insistent. You bring along your own misery. Now the wheels are locked in place. He's greased the track enough to slide along. Now his hands release the reigns. Now the horses are free from the crying yokes. Slide another one down the oak. Excitement searching, scandalously flirting, heads to the tavern for sex. Well dressed, well groomed, smelling right for the evening. Judge and defendant throwing more than assumptions. Ever so willing to drown the cat, playing the fool she says: Hello I'm me I was hoping you'd be someone who wanted to help my tormentor in aging my anguish. He's ever so insistent. You bring along your own misery. Now the wheels are locked in place. He's greased the track enough to slide along. Now his hands release the reigns. Now the horses are free from the crying yokes. Slide another one down the oak. Well he treats himself to a gander at a cart with it all. What more could he ask for? Another cart to get him to the top branches. But only to fall and blame the tree, but we all need someone to point the finger at, even me. Slide another one down the oak.
2.
Peculiar was the cadence of his preparation: cufflinks, cravat, top hat. Humming melody just flat. It seemed right by the heat of the candlelight. Sweet scent they'll melt. Cape and Lord Henry will be pleased. Cobblestone flame dance as light stilts creak. Fervered pace running from this place. In the attic faced with such a face. Gripping malice singing to replace something lost here, something we won't find. Shiver down as you swim down one more time. No there's nothing on the floor. The hall has no evidence of what went before. Even the smell is gone. The place for you is set - they all sit in wait. Infamous at best. Still confidence lacks luster held before trigger toting lays. Apparitions hanging oh so still. Hollow eyes proclaim a peculiar death, candlelight fade. In the attic, hands thrown in the air. Effervescence flashing perfect there. Prying eyes won't notice any miss. Wallow forth dear ghost if you dare. Moan all you want. Send up my glee. My smile is truth that without you I'm better off.
3.
Interlude 01:14
4.
Come up here bard bard, come up here soul soul, come up here dear little child and fly with the clouds and winds and play with the measureless light. At this elevation my eyes boil. I want to scrape my teeth against yours. Whether or not you learn doesn't change what you've heard. Crayola uniform, chroma triad, lovers with profitable ditties. Fourth dressed sucking on its foundation. Santa, freedom, love and God with a pillar or two between their fingers. A gritty censured view - no doubt they pick and choose. Long lost Walt, long lost Allen and a surefire sad sight sipped half-empty. You wore 'em like linen on a rainy day. At this elevation my eyes boil. I want to scrape my teeth against yours. Whether or not you learn it doesn't change what you've heard. Glass-jawed Christmas parade. All the decadence a boy can take. Calling windchimes to raise the dead offends no one unless the children pretend. Well I'm off to the races with little opportunity to speak of, though an ever-swelling presence chants of scenarios to dream of. Welding your fantasies complacent, rehearsing old liabilities. Soldiers rousing passion. Songs, romance, distress, here and there. With a backseat view of a secondhand dream bewildered all you want to do is sweat clean. Doves sneeze, lions cry and the one who's King doesn't seem to have the time. Well-dressed criminals beta-caps delivering abrupt sentiment with futuristic chivalry. Walt's banner hangs so brightly and all I want to do is pluck it down. But I look at their eyes, they shine so brightly. All the stars and assurances, comforts, subservience. Now wear the trio to fit and hum open-lipped: this search is not apologetic - it offers so little to believe in.
5.
It hardly cares where you choose to stand to hear the crashing waves roll. You offer great vigilance, pristine linen and all I do is laugh and sigh. Well me at seat and you at foot, you're answering your own questions. Me at seat and you at foot. I'm drowning in my own sincerity. Insecure, fumbling thought. Tact gone. A social newborn. I am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner. I am waiting at the counter for the man to pour the coffee. He fills it only halfway and before I even argue he is looking out the window at somebody coming in. "It's always nice to see you," says the man behind the counter to the woman who has come in she is shaking her umbrella. And I look the other way as they are kissing their hellos, pretending not to see him and instead I pour the milk. Agony as you've already decided, I have nothing I can offer...you've grown so much higher than I could ever dream of. You lend the world so much light. Without you we'd all be lost.
6.
I remember how smooth and bleached sand castles waist high and esteem, as far as the sunset behind the towers, clouds and foam - it makes me angry. Keep telling yourself this voyage is less of an instrument, so much more than benign. The foliage deters and not conspires. Brigade in chase. A face to end the world. Slit-throat begging for another chance. Copilot out on the wing cursing God for all his pain. Lingering as the landing ensues, stop the tower a face observes. Like antelope they swarm the gate. Like antelope they swarm the gate. If I'd been a sailor, thirsty for shore leave. Drunk and singing at the moon. Desperate for reprieve. A force as willing as the brigade deserving, lobbying insults with feathers down from the towers and the moats and the clouds and the foam. Through the pass, along the path, across the bridge, upon the keep, stern faces, swift feet prod on. The sky isn't getting much brighter. Quote copilot: Goodbye long lost friend. Ships chanting melodies came from the sea. Glass-eyed phantoms munching on a Saturday feast. I'm all trembly. Are you as trembly as me? There on the clouds he lost his affection. Upon the keep it was a mass feed. Copilot landing infection, velocity increase like a lion on grease. These towers need toppling but this too will end. I'm a cripple, you're a cripple.
7.
All his mumbling was a blatant disregard for her contempt. Now I'm listening to him say the world has glass feet you know. You can see right throw them...yes I'm certain they break all the time. But it doesn't make any difference if anyone notices. They all kick rocks anyway. She couldn't hold back. She bounced a mallet across his neck - CRACK! Silent he went for a moment but then proceeded with I've always wanted to build my own rock but no matter how many trees I cut down I can't get close enough to the wild...I think i used to, but not now. I figured it all as this went on the significance was well buried in incoherentness. So she brought him out the door to her room. I assume (as I often do) to fuck and to smoke and forget as quickly as he can. These apologies groom the facade chiming into summers anew. Elsewhere vermin march in circus attire performing tasks to hide the mold. Porch light reaching forth right to the sound of the reverberous night. Wind wishing for the solidity of a train whistle. Wind wishing for the solidity of a train whistle. Decrepit wanting, o lust, lech, a witch hunt and again I am pretending to care. Decrepit wanting, o lust, lech, a witch hunt and again I am pretending pretending to care.

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released February 24, 2004

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Exotic Fever Records Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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