And still I rise
God beams down from his Red velour chaise longue where he
scans "Thigh High" magazine and just gets right on with the
business in hand. His reverence is interrupted by the
sounds of seduction and keeping himself in check he screams
"who the hell else is here, show thyself that I may be at
peace once more" but…
Still I rise
"Who the hell else, who the hell else?" It is I Anaestheus
the king of lust, king of all that is unjust putting ideas
into the minds of men, chained to the tracks by their own
desires and frittering away the choice to live amongst the
most noble the most magnificent, the most that a man can
possibly be but…
Still I rise
As a bright red capital A hits the centre plate. I grit
somebody else's teeth and haul off to the next spot, my
life taking on new meaning as I tread the unknown,
blinkered and shivering with candle snot trickling down my
beak, landing on my lip which gives me more food for
thought as I fall down drunk and screw up the union but…
Still I rise
Angels place their hands on my forehead, the anaesthetic
now splitting the death probe while surgeons hack and
crack, spilling more claret than the time they kissed the
sober dawn. Move on up to leg mountain and pluck out the
chosen one, my mind is full from memory overload, the
anaesthetic truck like shot, drains I.V.s and a back fulla
'phine but…
Still I rise
Walk with the king, the son and myself and the whole damn
ministry. Sleeping under bright lights that keep watch over
our every move (takes a while but we'll get there baby)
and so we stroll, remembering Albert Johanson, Albert
Adamson, the soul murdered father, the Moss Side tory the
negro inside me, the man with the Golden hip bone connected
Página 1 / 2