Captain Beefheart - 81' poop hatch

Izvajalec besedila pesmi je Captain Beefheart.

My eyes are burnt and bleeding and all that looks like a monkey on a silver bar … big poop hatch with a cotton hatch – hatch holes that the
light shows in and the light shows out … and the little red fence … and the wire and the wood … and the barbs and the berries … and the tires
and the bottles and the caruponrims … and the heat swims on its fenders and the dust collects and the rust of autumn surrenders into gold …
trumpet poop on the ground with peanuts its bell was blocking an ant’s vision … and the mice played in its air holes and valves … a ladybug
crawled off its mouthpiece standing out red and blacked its wings and blew off to a flower … its hum heard just above the ground … black
dots were hung in what turned out to be an olive tree that originally held a tree house full of a building with one small window … birds and
broken glass and tiny bits of newspaper … "My sun is free from the window," said the god the green dabbers … rice wires mouse tins and milk
muffins … cereal and stone … matches and masks and mace and clubs … and splintered shaft light intrigues a cricket on a dust jeweled
penlet … cobwebs collect down plaster run into a hole and find collected glass that drinks the reflection of midday afternoon midway
between telegraph lines … a silver wing – a cloud – a rumbling of a cloud … a crowd of various violins strum from next door through my wall
into my ear obviously artificial … neighbors laugh through sandwiches … Harlem babies – their stomachs explode into roars … their eyes shiny
with starvation … spreckled hula dance on my phonograph … my door rattles windy … sand wears my rug shoe and taps on the unheard finish
of an hourglass I cannot hear … a typical musician’s nest of thoughts filter through dust speakers … "Why don’t you go home? Oh Blobby,
are you great," exclaims two lips in some jumbled rock ‘n’ roll tune and wears a spot I cannot scratch … the surface of a friend … this high
book a friend laid on me … on the couch relaxing in the corner behind a still life pond with plenty of bugs and lily pads slurred in mud banks
and boulders tin cans and raisins warped by thought … strain on the spoon like a wheat check – check Bif – cotton popping out of his sleeve
… poop hatch open – big poop hatch with a cotton hatch – hatch holes – got to pick up the horns … but the head won’t move until it walks

Ogledujete si besedilo pesmi 81' poop hatch, lahko pa si ogledate še ostale pesmi in besedila izvajalca Captain Beefheart.