Dec 21, 2006 17:32
"Ladies and gentlemen, set yourself on fire!
Why? You can't remember why.
Because my mother is gone and your father is dead, and all the bad guys can't wait to chop us into pieces and turn us into oil.
You may have heard the rumours that we were dead, that they'd captured us and were prepared to throw away the key but it was all lies. We come to you tonight from a jail cell in Jersey, which shared with Bruse Springsteen's deaf half-brother and a syncophantic whore.
You guessing, your world all sweaty tired and no more autopgraphs please...keeping your manner together.
The golden piece waiting. Inside, the tide keeps rising, rolling out a hundred or so horse corpses; the sad, curious lament of the French horn moving in your organs like some lingering opium promise.
Ladies and Gentlemen, we know what it means to have your gods already dead in the wet mouths of republican swine.
Because you held me with those famous tangerine hands. Because everyone I love is a theif. Because we were born in unbelieving, both you and I.
We'll not live like this. They will try to bury us with false manifestos, inscribe us in wars against false enemies, but we'll sing songs about dying from loving the wrong cowboy and gospel; our bodies will burn in effigies or promise. I swear."