Incarnation crossroad

Residents of honeyland boulevard
Illusions hover on a dream-roller
Dark dissolute organs scream for more
On the way to final destination

Residents of scapegoat town behind them

Like a moron with redundant ego

Stomp along with spit-liar album
And my dear fireflies dying of fascination

Curious residents of moth-eater village
Follow the multitude of involuntary grunts

Desperately groping for the lost goad
O the air cry out for a last stimulation

Multi color multi size men and women
Need more of angelic semen

“How do you love me bite me sane
When the light fell down in the evening den”

Honeyland said it knew the meaning beforehand
Scapegoats look it in the eye

Moth-eaters don’t decipher the meaning at all
But the crossroads are door-knocks for keeps


At midnight residue spines ball-dance
Long-kiss the fire-blood as in one last once

Before the residents collapse like a house of cards
And set out to seek incarnation incarnation