(willcox/sidelnyc). Jazz jazz singers in the trees now,. Shiny projectiles with bee-bop beaks. Remote in the key of green. Perched high in the citadel.
(Words Willcox/Music Bogen, Spalding). The Jungles of Jupiter. Naked plant on naked flesh. Wild essence in wild minds. Making love out of time. Blistered confusion in crystal caves.
(Willcox/Darlow). I'll serve you well, be your western girl. Tailored, silent, the oyster and the pearl. Soft young flesh, master's so mean. He's shackled my ankles, his ropes burn my waist.
Ieya,. Solar. Ieya,. Calling. The perfect sphere,. A star. My crystal vase,. Exploding. Ieya. Solar. Ieya. Calling, calling, calling you,. Solar?s calling.
Somewhere in the distance. Hidden from view. Suspended in the atmosphere. Waiting to come through. Sometimes it's so far away. Sometimes it's very near.
My fingers are grass. My tongue the asp. My town a burial mound. . My eyes are jewels. My ears hear tools. put them down. . My feet are wings. My body sings.
(Words Willcox / Music Bogen). Skimming the surface of a sleep. The rain falls hard from the heavens deep. Shatters my hopes, shatters my dreams. Shatters my windows into smithereens.
(I'm bored. I don't want to go to school. Don't want to be nobody's fool. I want to be me. I want to be me. I don't want to be sweet and neat. I don't want someone living my life for me.
(willcox/sidelnyc). "do I improvise this?". "just be obscure. hello doctor..". "hello sweetie, how are you today, oh hello patient, how are you today?.....".
(willcox). I must. I must not. Homecraft. I must. I must not. Homecraft. I must be a bad cook. I must not bath. Homecraft. I must, I must. I must wear dirty clothing.
(willcox). I cannot sleep. The saint in me eludes me. This man is not what I think. He is a halo of thorns,. Spear in his side. Coaxing me to earth. A parachute eclipses the sun.
(willcox/sidelnyc). Here I stand on a large chunk of rock. Floatin' in the piss-pot part of the firmament. We all push me pull you fuck chuck a buck you.
(Words Willcox / Music Bogen). Now the whole of the human race. Needs a dreamscape. In your scrapyards of human emotion. Put your minds in locomotion.
(Words Willcox/Music Bogen)The door is a whore. And it's open wide. Naked as the beast. You peep inside. Emotion's an ocean. In which to hide. Emotion's an ocean.
(Words Willcox/Music Lee). In the labyrinth. We grow so thin. We grow protrusions. That we can fly and fight in. In the labyrinth. We grow guns with bullets in.
(Willcox/Darlow). The lovers are dancing like a fairy tale. Their public romancing seems so unreal. But they don't need it, can take or leave it. It's too easy, they won't believe it.
(willcox/sidelnyc). There's a house on the outskirts of Marlborough. Past the polly tea rooms. Hidden in the trees. That watch your every move. Consumed by birdsong.
I love you, strange man. You had come from so far away. Talking. We were talking, well we tried. . Then we danced. Laughing. We were laughing. But then we touched.
Wasp waisted. Modest and man-shy. We can never decide. Which colour shall we paint our eyes.. . We?re getting ready. To walk out in style,. Wicked ladies,.
(Words Willcox / Music Bogen). Temptation. Motivation. Hesitation. Trepidation. And we're walking on broken diamonds. Blinded by their light. In a world of splintered fragments.