Prolific
Текст песни Kubla Khan

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decree,
Where Alph the sacred river ran through caverns measureless…
…Down to a sunless sea,

I hold the image of the moment given - broken visions,
Watching smoking women blowing kisses with the smoke they're spinning,
The solemn tone is vivid, lost inside my own condition,
Reading poems I've written even though I know that - no one listens….
This motion sickness, moves the masses like a mastodon,
That passes on the master's song through the ashes of a vagabond,
I drink a glass of calm, and glance across the table,
At a man hand who has hand on his drink - scratching off the label,
Old gypsy walks in the door holding a bouquet of dying roses,
Most people pay no mind and don't take the time to notice,
I feel like saying something along the lines of life is hopeless,
But I'm too busy buying shots and overdosing on Ibuprophin,
I was hoping she'd move straight toward the sad lovers,
Or try to hustle the business man reading adbusters,
But she came right to me, and said I have something, that I bet you'd like to see,
I said please, I've had a long night and to top it off I'm single,
I don't need a flower plus I don't have any money I can give you, S
he looked back without a word and plucked a rose from the stack,
Placed it in my hand and left before I saw the note attached,
The rose was black, the pedals frail and weak,
The shade strange as it was both pale and deep,
Out to the vacant street,
my home for three long nights,
to tear the letter open to read beneath the neon lights…

(scratching)

The center won't hold, inside this empty dream,
This endless stream of consciousness that's constant on this benzedrine,
Amphetamines… pumping pressure pounding through the blood,
In a heart grown cold from never housing human touch,
Cut, to the street confused and unattached,
So far out I knew there wasn't any coming back,
The poem provoked a sudden flash, you can call it an epiphany,
That put my life in check and let me find my place in history,
Consider me, a fly buzzin on the fly paper,
“You can snuff me out now or let me die later,”
Eyes dilated, with feelings way beyond the flesh,
Until my train of thought was broken from its place of calm and rest,
On my left, an old man with a tattoo of Jesus on his chest,
Flinching as pretentious prophets scream to him that “God is Dead”!
He looks to me I nod my head, then slide inside the nothingness,
To feel that druggish drip that always lies inside my sunken ribs,
I need another hit at 5 am, With eyes as wide as giant skies when time won't end,
I left the streets then, gliding moving calm,
On a trip to Xanadu to talk with Kubla Khan…

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decree,
Where Alph the sacred river ran through caverns measureless…
…Down to a sunless sea,