Indian Dances with Felix the Cat

Plastic bags, blue fields, green men on hats,
Indian dances with Felix the Cat.
Opening clouds and railroad tracks,
Once the train stops there's no turning back.

On the darkest of nights you'll be seeing alright
through the small opening to the big world of white.

Frame by frame, deicide.
In my brain, between your thighs.
I grab your neck i want you dead.
Your blond hair stops, your face is blue.
On my bed, I still love you.

Balcony, cold floors are spinning.
Blue concrete, shadow demons grinning.
Chemicals mix and the hand shall melt.
Crawling black leather belts.

Plastic green bushes growing.
Singing, screaming, turning to trees.

I could go on for hours with all of its powers.



April 1993