“My body is a monster driven insane
My heart is a fish toasted in flames
I kiss the hem of her skirt
My life is a box full of dirt
We spend our life in a box full of dirt
I murder her dress till it hurts
If there’s one thing I desire in this world
That’s to make love to my Zoo-Music Girl”—The Birthday Party - Zoo Music Girl
Love again: wanking at ten past three
(Surely he’s taken her home by now?),
The bedroom hot as a bakery,
The drink gone dead, without showing how
To meet tomorrow, and afterwards,
And the usual pain, like dysentery.
Someone else feeling her breasts and cunt,
Someone else drowned in that lash-wide stare,
And me supposed to be ignorant,
Or find it funny, or not to care,
Even … but why put it into words?
Isolate rather this element
That spreads through other lives like a tree
And sways them on in a sort of sense
And say why it never worked for me.
Something to do with violence
A long way back, and wrong rewards,
And arrogant eternity.