Lirieke: William Ryan Fritch. Plumed & Desiccated. The Plastic Wont Remember.

Glut our paunch on offerings of shining fat, cloaked in the name of gourmet. if not bought sight unseen then oversold, by a siren's song of cellophane, voice 2(waxings and wanings that steal surrogate hearts) who's crumpling harmonies throw temporal dust back into the air all confined and borrowed. long eared, red cheeked and short sighted. we breathe on clay and yoke its soft shoulders. we bite the dry gun powder pulse of easy fruits but the dregs of our threshings have no debt of birth and the plastic wont remember. Ignorant fumes is the only sap they will spew, unlike the pines that weeped milk & honey. I have rashly surfeited all my swelling tastes till ive become a consumptive dog mirthless and perfumed and our keen quiet noses are forced to smell our own animalism on forgettable faces; dominance recessed yields flightless prey and the plastic wont remember. We devour one another but can't digest ourselves and slake the gloom of stomachs with rare and useless gold (as they slit open my soul) and under closed heavens and open markets pray we're a little more than what we've been sold. Lionize confectioners but ruin bakers of daily bread, cherries dipped in poison and bitter flies drowned in wine. But our millgrist is cinder and gravel we share only grief and foundations and common stone, yes only grief and ground and common. brethe lavender rags to mask the sulphur of snoring lies, men speak from their nostrils and the bellows of their minds are puffed up and made more empty. Voluptuous hollow words may enkindle prodigious flames but every engine must combust on something. we devour one another and yet cannot digest ourselves. (absent tastes and swollen glands) and nary a soul will remember We lust for heights, deceived by false ceilings and in moiling for gold dig up much earth only gleaming red tooth and claw. we festoon scabs to garlands round our necks and tongue irresistible cavities, kiss novocain cheeks with raving lips, and incite the stillest hour with smoke and mirrors. (the architects of sawdust and soot) we are ghosts in the gale, feckless and asunder

(Thanks to zach for these lyrics)