A Busy Day

"No time for games," replied Mr. Jenkins, "I have work to do."
"No time for fun," said Ms. Fronschleiffen, "I too have work to do."
So Mr. Jenkins and Ms. Fronscheiffen went off to work
Never realizing that a giant spider awaited them in the next room
"No time for spiders," the two replied in unison, "I have work to do."
The spider ate them. Yum.

DARK ANGEL

On the inside of her head
way in the back,
everything is dead
all is black.

Don't missunderstand
she's as birght as white snow,
but she demand'
that the darkness flow.

She does not dare
to let the sun rise,
what does she fear
she that is so wise?

Everything she see'
is at an evil level,
she might perhaps be
in love with the devil.

THE GRIM CLOWN

"A CLOWN" they say, when they look at me,
but later I laugh, as they lie under my knee.

Crying as I give them one LAST thrill.
Making sure no drop will spill.

Blood is my life juice and on that I feed,
who next shall satisfy my need?

Hungry for bones and blood and veins,
and to top off the dinner, how 'bout some brains?

Look at me and call me MAD.
But I'm much worse than any thought you've ever had!

A Clown indeed; is he a fool?
We will see, when I ALL HELL shall rule!

THE GRIM CLOWN 2

I am wierd. I am mad,
I am the one who makes you glad.

But only for a short while,
'cause I bring forth the child,

that reminds you of who you were,
then your age will start to blur.

You'll realize that whatever you do,
that little child will still be you.

And that's the greatest fear,
to see that there is no meaning, all so clear.

Why should you then have to live,
when life has nothing at all to give?

I'll leave the last part up to you,
- you know what to do.

But if you think twice or have doubst,
you'll soon enough hear your own shouts.

I'm as cerious as a creamy pie,
when I say I know, you WANT to die.

Paranoid: A Chant

I can't go out no more
There's a man by the door
in a raincoat
smoking a cigarette

But

I've put him in my diary
and the mailers are all lined up
on the bed, bloody in the glow
of the bar sign next door.

He knows that if I die
(or even drop out of sight)
the diary goes and everyone knows
the CIA's in Virginia

500 mailers bought from
500 drug counters each one different
and 500 notebooks
and 500 pages in every one.


I am prepared

I can see him from up here.
His cigarette winks from just
above his trehnchcoat collar
and somewhere there's a man on a subway
sitting under a Black Velvet ad thinking my name.

Men have discussed me in back rooms.
If the phone rings there's only dead breath.
In the bar across the street a snubnose
revolver has changed hands in the men's room.
Each bullet has my name on it.
My name is written in back files
and looked up in newspaper morgues.

My mother's been investigated;
thank God she's dead.

They have writing samples
and examine the back loops of pees
and the crosses of tees

My brother's with them, did I tell you?
His wife is Russian and he
keeps asking me to fill out forms.
I have it in my diary.
Listen-
listen
do listen:
you must listen.

In the rain, at the bust stop,
black crows with black umbrellas
pretend to look at their watches, but
it's not raining. Their eyes are sliver dollars.
Some are scholars in the pay of the FBI
most are the foreigners who pour through
our streets. I fooled them
got off the bus at 25th and Lex
where a cabby watched me over his newspaper.

In the room above me an old woman
has put an electric suction cup on her floor.
It sends out rays through my light fixture
and now I write in the dark
by the bar sign's glow.
I tell you I *know*.

They sent me a dog with brown spots
and a radio cobweb in its nose.
I drowned it in the sink and wrote it up
in folder GAMMA.

I don't look in the mailbox anymore.
The greeting cards are letter-bombs.

(Step away! Goddam you!
Step away, I know tall people!
I tell you I know very tall people!)

The luncheonette is laid with talking floors
and the waitress says it was salt but I know arsenic
when it's put before me. And the yellow taste of mustard
to mask the bitter odor of almonds.

I have seen strange lights in the sky.
Last night a dark man with no face crawled through nine miles
of sewer to surface in my toilet, listening
for phone calls through the cheap wood with
chrome ears.
I tell you, man, I *hear*.

I saw his muddy handprints
on the porcelain.

I don't answer the phone now,
have I told you that?

They are planning to flood the earth with sludge.
They are planning break-ins.

They have got physicians
advocating weird sex positions.
They are making addictive laxatives
and suppositories that burn.

They know how to put out the sun
with blowguns.

I pack myself in ice - have I told you that?
It obviates their infrascopes
I know chants and I wear charms.
You may think you have me but I could destroy you
any second now.

Any second now.

Any second now.

Would you like some coffee, my love?

Did I tell you I can't go out no more?
There's a man by the door
in a raincoat.

or alternativly listen to me try to recite it in bad english:

http://home.online.no/~s.rast/Paranoid. ... sphere.mp3

It's kind of difficult to make out the words at times (I know) so you should probably read it as you listen to it.

Stand aside, loose your pride
I'm at the gates alone
Sourcery, blasphemy
All welcome in my home
I'm leaving
But soon I'm coming back
Believe me
I'm hot on your tracks

Through the night
Eagles flight
The angels kiss my brow
Tempting me with studded heels
The bitch is in heat
Oh you've got me
That leather smells so sweet
I'm on fire
Breeding sin, breathing lust
Witches spell ohhh...

Women Leather and Hell

Dynamite, is right on time
Sends shivers down my spine
Destiny won't catch me
The choice of death is mine
Salvation is keeping out of sight
Damnation is joining in the fight

Women Leather and Hell