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And I think there was men before who were too scrambled By Donna's awesome awesome power But did any of them ever fly? And by fly I mean moving in and out of the crescents and into the indentations and the golden crescents of the sky? The pink flowers are dying but everything everywhere is occasionally getting into the dying See William, see that brown speck on top of that Irish island that is sure proof man that everything is sometimes into dying I never liked that co-pilot now even less Since he took my laughter and bled it upon the altar of his own designs Slit my joy's neck Drained it of its blood raised a sacrificial goblet to himself and the virulent power of his own f*cking loins Decelerate decelerate The aeroplane is diving Out of gold And if we go slow enough I might drop to bombay I might sense the green air I might be dropped out of phase I wish the pink flowers away
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