Jerusalem - Page 166

And no more how’s-your-father now.

She’s a cockeyed optimist

Who can’t resist

This final white parade.

Allthrough she nows it’s sometimeattic of belusional dehaviour and splitzophrenia, chicaned help thanking that de pravious abverse odder song had bin abider. She stoops out from the councealing vagitation unto the groen lawnings ab Sent Hinderus joystirs the delayrious psychodelphic untheme slydes into its catch Icarus.

So she waits for God, oh what’s the point

Of all these tears?

Letters of the alphabet are pouring from her ears

And all her words are mangled

And her sentences are frayed

To black hole radiation

In this final white parade.

Delyrics, fearsome risen, meek her thank o’ Somewill Backitt, hom she whoopes wel come and fizzit soon. He’s bin alloyal friend to err, hus Sum, and it’ snotties falld vatican’t be comething moor. She walks acrass the gross toherds the medowse weaver fating song contimbering to cadger ear on interdistent ghusts of wint.

Malcolm’s methylated banter,

When his Tam O’ Shanter

Is by Colonel Bogeymen pursued into the dew

And no more how’s-your-father now.

Prisoner at the bar,

They’d raise a jar

For every serenade he played.

Staunding bider raydoom intrance, her sweet’ners Peatrickier has nowse inner and is waifing hippily, relived that shizzle right. Lucia tarts to walk a liffel feister, denderrun. She dips and skances in de light, her shedoe lang uponder trilliard-terrble baise o’ day asoiloam lorn. It’ spin anutter pafict lucci die, hor whele life samewho fulldead inter it from p

auppa’s word nowtivity to Jimsthorte cemeteary bedstone. Ivory day is like as know-globe with the untired uniqverse curtin sudspinsion, fullove myrth and literatunes and herstory, an’ divery daymarch like the next. She rashes eagirly thruwards the dosspital, towords the mocean’s featherly himbrace.

Dusty’s cunningly linguistic,

Jem’s misogynistic,

But they dance the night away.

Manac es cem, J.K,

And no more how’s-your-father now.

Grinding signal into noise

The crowd enjoys

This final white parade.

Tags: Alan Moore Fantasy
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