(M Doughty)
Moon Sammy walks Across the floor Below the floor There is a wall
Behind the wall There is a chair Moon Sammy knows The chair is
there
But that's OK, that's OK, you can do that--if you're wound up, full of
tension,
incoherent Your mouth is buttered with lies; you ask why, but you
could
call it enigmatic; all your thoughts about the chair are full of
static
Automatically your mind goes down the stairwell to the chair; your
body
says Moon Sammy, can you come back?
Strum it
Moon Sammy washes In the sink Below the sink There is a drain The
drain
goes straight Into the sea The sink itself Is porcelain
Obsess yourself with causality The information you hear is a
loophole,
technicality Behind every object is a mathematic; an obscure
substance
infused with a kinetic force, energy, an obscure conscience shoots a
gun at
the feet the world dances
Babylon, mystery, mother of harlots, and all these abominations of the
earth, that sits on many waters, drunk with the blood of the martyrs
of
Jesus
And I wondered with great admiration