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letra de the snakes eats his tale - nick zazove

verse

he’s dead. a drive-by spread colosseum
jaundiced hand, frozen wrist choking up the paean
bottleneck grips carousel train-stranger heathen
eden-stamped toboggan throttled christmas past the evening
what really was he even- oddworld, dumb deacon
rent’s thick lining in a mason jar, teething-
at the scars on the flatscreen, cops rob jesus
one stretched pixel out a lexicon tequila
his earthly sense of reason longs for childhood’s end
zen fused with ore latched to the cushion pushing 100 threads
key to the aphrodite picket fence allegiance
rob the tense of one broken seesaw and it feeds in. beaten
paths of glory: two bullies read rum out the idiot’s box
coated-black, pyrotechnics, five fingers of schlock
prolonged a monkey’s paw for north by north attraction
west of side stories next to back and forth romantics
she’s trapped in the abraxas, the make-believe synapsing
the pills spilled on his lap slopped up by miniature latchkeys
they infiltrate the pneuma till it spills out the lacuna-
as the ouroboros canonizing john does with moolah
his fulcrum. sees all in fm. saw me
on my deathbed. before i reach the split brain of the excess
his pup nestles his leg before a knee-jerk light-bulb flashes-
on the dark side of the moon to reap his maker out his headrest
it was dead before he realized the stench stalking his plume
yet he never left his room- forever aspirin and the news
old and cooked up in a bedpan: aluminum perfume
coin a shook man a sack of sh-t who slaves himself to scoops
dune staker, through the heartless arrow dripping curare-
labor. few charming snakes pit the forbidden saber
basilisk fang or f-cking sane, he slips into a-
different chamber, where the blood moon turns the atrium to vapors
his god abandons music, mobile home spins wild
a forked road in the tongue-twisting tale of crimson bile
who knew blades were the formation of crags inside the child
the changeling who defiled wings desired by his idols
and so he stood on two feet, my third carried the final
he scurried through the mud, acid rain pouring on vinyl
and closed his eyes, punishing the id for all the size-ups
to cracked lips and torn fibers uniting delilah
with fire. my ceremony coronating purgatory
smoke mirrors kiss make-belief to offspring the messiah
as soon he’s aware, he dies a best friend and pariah
i wake up a designer of the basic heed: eternal silence
not a grand scheme
not a fanzine
not an antique
i am the need to be free
i am the need to be free
i need to be free. i need to be free

- nick zazove

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