Cento in D-minor
I now detect an alien vibration here
as Beautiful Zelda from Galaxy Four,
the kind of eyes that hypnotise me through,
lips of venomous poison, poison running through my veins,
suddenly walks through my door.
Time falls wanking to the floor.
Borderline. Feels like I’m going to lose
enough to make a shy bald Buddhist reflect and plan a mass-murder.
You like to give an inch while I’m giving infinity.
Don’t walk away in silence, don’t walk away
slowly down the hall, faster than a cannonball.
It’s not your right to be so much my enemy.
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted,
a man with a fork in a world of soup.
If for honesty you want apologies, I don’t sympathise.
Shot by both sides on the run to the outside of everything
as I try to make my way to the ordinary world.
I could have placed us in exile, I could have shown you how to cry.
Karma Police, arrest this man, he
tells me it’s black when I know that it’s white,
talks in maths, buzzes like a fridge,
and all of the bastards the world despises springing surprises
in newer disguises,
talking about the love they give. They never give, they never give.