1.'See You Don't Bump His Head'
Writer(s)：Scott Walker
2.Corps De Blah
Writer(s)：Scott Walker
Hence went and cracked
An atom age old egg
Beneath my nose,
The sky-clads ash
With jettisoning the roost.
I'm bumping into leghorns in the darkness.
Excuse me.
Dear god, excuse me.
Accrue too flew and
Burned my teeth
With kitchen matches
Struck on stone.
Boiling owls shriek
Arab widow flayed cadenzas.
I'm wading through
Blue, vacant veins of Sterzing.
The Chiseller keeps slipping away.
Cholesteroled mansions
crowded with sulphured air, dip to
Kyrie's lone whistler in the shadows.
Simitar sideburn, charging on the purple
purlieus, scrape to
Goitres gray carnation
through the stubble.
Epicanthic knobbler
of ninon, arch to
Macaronic mahout in the mascon.
Ah, my old
Scabby Sachem,
A sphincters tooting our tune.
If only 'I' could pick you.
Wed slosh, wed slide, wed cling
round a kelloggs floor.
His severed, yellow-eyes
WeepingDA-DA-DA, DA-DA-DA.
From the spit-roast smoke curling.
DA-DA-DA
DA-DA-DA.
RACK OFF!
from this ravished slather!
Keep yourvile rattus
small adult hand to yourself.
Take your turnshoes and wobble.
Turnshoes and wobble.
Jihad jive lobsleaking beanbag
through a cut-out clowns astonished mouth.
Shrivelled pods climb to the sun
beneath your skirts.
Then suddenly, there's hissing on the gumbo.
I'm drowning yonical tears.
Grinding upheaval always affects the genitals, sniff to
Breaths bereft Manhattans in the Duma.
Unleavened bread-head, the window behind, alive,
with wheeze driven flakes, bob to
Rotting grapes bunch brooch on chest of bruises.
Nothing clears a room like removing a brain, hail
The rain hail
The rain hail
The rain.
Ah, my sweet Sagamore wino, face full of drunken ticks,
if only I could sip you.
Like flies sip at wide eyes, on a desert floor.
We could move to the sticks.
Say Earls court or Embankment.
While the Thames flows black as camel piss,
let the icy thermals dervish around our feet.
Dare, step out on me,
I'll step out on you.
Dare, step out on me,
I'll step out on you
Bish Bosch, and what more are depositions for？
Eukaryotic gobbler of gavotte, knee to
Deafening tiny feet upon the branches.
Altair, Vega, Drogba and Deneb, doff to
Dentists stoop of moon above the haunches.
Sealable nostrils squeezed through eye of coupling pin, heil to
Ober-bearing night starting to smoulder.
First fiddlers mark, right there, under the jaw, nod to
Double-bladed axe poised over shoulder.
3.Phrasing
Writer(s)：Scott Walker
Pain is not alone.
P-a-i-n is n-o-t alone.
Pain is not a-l-o-n-e.
P-a-i-n i-s not alone.
Neath a protein moon
in a protein sky,
running protein fields
with my protein eye.
Theres a protein song
howling through
the meat.
Driving protein bods
from my protein street.
P-a-i-n i-s n-o-t alone.
Pain is not a-l-o-n-e.
Pain is not alone.
P-a-i-n i-s n-o-t a-l-o-n-e.
From the south
the Klan sends
roses.
Lymph-lacquered nails
hover
in waifed
autumn sun
For dragging down
the back
of summer.
From the east
come killer
poses.
Khuschevs shoe
beats a black
tattoo
in the middle
of the day.
From the north
flow floats
with quivering
virgins,
fresh from frozen
catacombs.
Did ya spot
the die-cut
crosses？
Did ya？
Did ya？
Pain is not alone.
P-a-i-n is not alone.
Pain i-s not a-l-o-n-e.
P-a-i-n is n-o-t alone.
.
Neath a protein moon
in a protein sky,
running protein fields
with my protein eye.
Here's to a lousy life.
Here's to a lousy life.
Here's to a lousy life.
Here's to a lousy
4.SDSS 14 + 13 B(Zercon, A Flagpole Sitter)
Writer(s)：Scott Walker
This is my job,
I don't come around and put out
your red light when you work.
Silence
What's the matter,
didn't you get enough attention at home？
Silence
If shit were music,
you'd be a brass band.
Silence
Know what？
You should get an agent,
why sit in the dark
handling yourself.
For Lavinia
who goes like
gynozoon.
IX I V
IX III V I
For the citizen
whose joke lays
in their hand.
I V I
V IX IX III
To play fugues
on Joves
Spam castanets.
V IX IX
I VI IX I
Cattle are slaughtered,
Entrails examined,
spread out across the moon.
The Tisza is rising,
topless bars overflowing,
pulsing through the flumes.
Drop-kicked coloraturas
fouling my ears,
bypassing
an anorexic sky and-
-scar jumping grafters,
chorion-crying.
How can you stoop
so high？
For Papiria
who plops
the Pantheon.
IV VI IX
V I IX I
For grosse Gauls
who wont leave
our sheep alone.
V I VII
IX I IX I
Norsemen!
DO NOT!
eat the big pink mint.
Flush hard,
its a long way to Athens.
Gone
from your wooden palace.
The wild mice pelt clothes
slipped from my toes
where termites
scribble the walls.
Twisted forth,
and gone,
'Little father',
The 'snip' off your
nine-ninety-nine,
from where you groomed
yourself too small.
No more
dragging this wormy anus
round on shag piles from
Persia to Thrace.
I've severed
my reeking gonads,
fed them to your
shrunken face.
Janus head
its said,
will give good door.
IX IX V
IX I IX I
For a Roman who's proof
that Greeks fucked bears.
V V IX
VII V IV I
Heard this one？
This'll kill ya,
about the ropes of hair
care of
Venus the Bald
tugging Mercs across the plain.
Those measuring road-rashed bellies
a perte de vue to me
night and day.
The one
about the saint
stranded high
upon his pillar.
Thirty summers,
Thirty winters,
his constant visitor,
his mother.
But he'd stare into the distance,
ignored her calls from down
below......
DID YOU EVER THROW YOUR OWN
MOTHERS FOOD BACK AT HER？!
DID YOU EVER TELL HER,
TAKE THIS JUNK AWAY？!
WHAT KIND OF UNNATURAL SON
WOULD DO THAT TO HIS OWN
MOTHER？!
.....The tasteless one
about the bantam
who couldn't climb a rung.
Your Helipolis is scrapheap.
Gone,
the brown slug
of your tongue.
For eunuch Ron
who sleeps at night
across the emperors
bedroom door.
III V IX
IX I V I
Grostulating-Gorbi
requires fresh packing.
II IX V
I IV IX I
OVER,
its over,
Syrinx screaming
all around,
BAR! BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR!BAR!
Aquil-Aetos!
Aquil-Aetos!
screaming all around,
Filling up my life,
screaming all around.
BAR! BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR!
OVER,
its over,
your Nibelung
can't be found.
Their shadowless
shadows,
wiping me.
Wiping me clean
away.
BAR! BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR! BAR!
Where's;
the scent of pine torches,
the lumbering caravans,
the felt covered wagons, moving like galleons？
The 'wedgie', the 'melvy' to threaten the air？
Only fledge muffled
long hollow bone-drums
a beating.
The dark day behind us,
the dark day ahead
the wind drone across
skull goblets.
THEN,
Basel-cum-Strasbourg-cum-Frankfurt-cumSpeyer-cum..............
I hear the only place your ever invited
is outside.
Silence
If brains were rain, you'd surely
be a desert.
Silence
Look, don't go to a mind reader,
go to a palmist;
I know you've got a palm.
Silence
Does your face hurt？
cuz its killing me.
CUT;
to
Lost Lumbago City.
I am perched
against the sky.
A banner shoal of sparrows
sways in the twilight.
Down there,
as
ish kabibble's
schlepp the shade
forever,
earths hoary
fontenelle
weeps softly
for a
thumb thrust.
A chorus of threadbare
black-stockinged legs
is fanning out
into a frazzled black
rose.
No
phalanxes fleeing
like zippers of blood,
red plumes nodding
between the horses
ears.
HEY BUDDY!
GIVE IT UP!
HEY PAL!
COME DOWN!
JOIN THE LIVING!
WANTED!
A LISPING, HOBBLING, NOSELESS
RUNT.
Phone IX IX IX
IX IX IX I.
REMEMBER：
'SOMEDAY YOU'LL GO FAR
IF YOU CATCH THE RIGHT
TRAIN'？
HOW ABOUT,
'YOU'RE SO FAT,
WHEN YOU WEAR A YELLOW
RAINCOAT, PEOPLE SCREAM
TAXI？'
THEN THERE'S,
'YOU'RE SO BORING
THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN ENTERTAIN DOUBT'.
I'll grease
this pole
behind me.
Grease this pole
behind me.
Grease this pole.
Grease this pole.
There's an unfinished rumour
doing the rounds.
It seems the storks are seen
returning to the rooftops.
Carrying back their children.
Clacking like dried palms.
Loud enough to be heard
from Reims to Orleans.
River banks are cleared.
Bridges retaken.
Oblivion,
driven from the city
street by street.
So why
have screams of laughter,
the pissing stench
of mares-milk beer
come to bait
your toad down
from his toadstool？
And if
I'm melancholic.
And if
I shed a tear.....
'Don't forget to blink,
lest your eyeballs dry up, fall out
of their sockets and dangle on your
cheeks like Caesar's shrivelled
coglione'.
.....its when I hear
a sawed-off coffin rolls
beneath the Tisza
HEY BAR!
Ah, my noblest music.
HEY!
BAR! BAR! BAR!
HEY BAR! BAR!
BAR! BAR!
I'll grease
this pole
behind me.
Grease this
pole behind
me.
Grease this
pole....
Grease this
po....
OVER,
its over,
but where's
the electrons
squeezing all around？
Burning up
my life.
Squeezing all around.
OVER,
its over,
Only freezing
all around.
I greased
that pole
behind me.
Greased
that pole
behind me.
Your Nibelung
can't be found.
I've looked high and low for you,
I guess I didn't look low enough.
Don't move：
I want to forget you just the way
you are.
I really hope your face clears up.
You know;
I think you've got nothing there.
Infrared, infrared.
I could
drop
into
the
darkness.
Its so cold,
Infrared.
What if
I freeze,
and
drop
into
the
darkness？
5.Epizootics!
Writer(s)：Scott Walker
Maman Neigho was frightened by Hawaiians,
When all the veins ran out.
When too much bone structure went missing,
she thumbed the galleon Cacafuego.
Forsook the eyebrows climbing
into greasy black hairlines.
Narcrotic leis,
yanked down around melianomed ankles.
Their putrid petals dropping,
erasing the white shoes,
like a face being eaten
by a jungle.
Slabs of steam tables
whiffing of onions and roses.
Haunted Jacuzzis churning.
All night the native bods squealing Bflat,
like choirs of pigs
seeking revenge for stolen insulin.
boost,
Blip,
bust,
brother.
That's how we copped a final,
reached this city without sound.
Everywhere you turn,
bunkers of rubber hoses pronging
up, off the city's floor.
Chirp, chime, clambake, cups.
Don't step on that rotting tartare.
Just might bust your conk.
Might lay your racket.
Early black ickaroo.
Its dense. Tense.
Unseen through, pound for pound.
All the people,on the corners,
pushing each other around.
Humping like buggers.
Touching like muggers.
Pushing each other around.
Adepocere in a zoot,
sloshing,
karat,
ballooning down the street.
Thousand kilos simpy.
forty stone send.
Tips his skypiece,
come to weigh me up.
But I'm toned.
Gut bucket.
Ground grippers ready to trilly.
Layin' down iron.
togged to the bricks...
SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.....
Lets add a little shade.
Try something apart from the hogshair.
While Pope Julius affects his red slippers,
let Michelangelo tip-toe around
in his dogskin boots.
SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH....
The powder on a chalky bosom rises
and hangs in the air.
Clouds crawling through protracted blue,
like souls of insects.
From threshing haze,
the scent of spider lilies.
Sam P's
bagged decapitation rotates
to the ocean floor,
its nostrils
are twitching and sniffing.
Gabriel's, gravy,
got your glasses on,
gate.
Theres some mezz glimmers, a gammon V8.
Twisters in the slammer.
Frisking their whiskers,
till peola dim,
on the chime of black.
Its dense. Tense.
Unseen through, pound for pound.
Scratch and Jesus,on the corner,
pushing each other around.
Shoving like sluggers.
Touching like muggers.
Pushing each other around.
Snapping their caps.
Slidin' their jibs.
Lampin' the brees.
Drapin' the trees.
Oops, pardon the elbow
Lets just shift you over here.
Sorry,
I'm so clumsy.
Take that accidently in the bollocks for a start.
Seven brights jumped in port,
reached this city without sound.
Kopasetic, on the corners,
pushing each other around.
Everybody on the corners,
pushing each other around.
Joe below,
Hincty dicty.
Slipped the pounders.
Fews and two.
Knock me. Boot me,
down in the land of darkness.
Sweet Leilani, heavenly flower.
6.Dimple
Writer(s)：Scott Walker
November in July.
Eyes glistening
in darkness,
like freshly
crushed flies.
Fourteen bones
held together
by avian phlegm.
When
the whistling
has ended,
I won't stale
again.
Slurry soul.
Unbearable
clink
fraying through
tartared chink,
Took the Dorgi,
left the dent frozen fast
in the
sagging night.
4／4 of silence
5／4 of shame.
When
the sneezings
subsided,
I wont stare
again.
INK, A DINK A DINK
Hej do, hej do
A DINK A DINK A
DINK A DOO.
Hej do, hej do
Jutland is crooning
narcrotic Lorilies.
Ingen...ingenting.
Ingen...ingenting.
Awaiting command,
its huge snout
wedged between
my thighs.
Ingen...ingenting.
Ingen...ingenting.
INK, A DINK A DINK
Hej do, hej do
A DINK A DINK A
DINK A DOO.
Hej do, hej do
Jutland is hvining
while stars fall
in thuds,
Ingen...ingenting.
Ingen...ingenting.
flattening
the cheek,
like soft
muffled scuds.
Ingen...ingenting.
Ingen...ingenting.
Tongues lick
the lead Lego,
they won't be
denied.
If you're listening
to this,
you must have
survived.
My only pige
passed
your only dreng
in Jutland's
sheer city.
Farvel, farvel
November in July
Apropolis lip
to where
acid-fast
fly.
Crepey
and shiny.
guanine restrain.
While out
lifting scalp,
I will not
glare again.
Took the shilling,
ditched
the score,
frozen fast
in the
lowering
night.
In the
lowering
left-testicle
night.
7.Tar
Writer(s)：Scott Walker
Flat nose whistle
goes up ahead.
Up ahead
on the
El Greco
grunt
God creates man
and then animals.
Bilge!
God creates animals
and then man.
Jackaroo
in the slew.
-let its tinnitustic needles
sew back shadow.
She holds a baby
made of towels
up ahead.
Up ahead
on the
baleen
bronchial
Jacobs offspring
in Egypt totalled
seventy.
Hogwash!
Jacobs offspring
in Egypt totalled
seventy five.
Contritio／Attritio.
-let the leashes strain
sustain those
jaw-joints surging.
Aw-shucks.
Aw-Gee.
The Porter sticks
with the
Porters dreams.
(Shoot to a wing-tip pawing the ground.)
I wouldn't trust him not to dance
a drachma across his knuckles.
Twenty-seven inches
from heel to heel
Lardie, Lardie, Lardie.
-while every skin is raised.
While every eye was grazed.
Thrushy-tongue
lolling
up ahead.
Up ahead
on the
sarcomere
stump
The women came
to the tomb
at dawn.
Booty chatter!
The women came
when the sun
had risen.
Laps／Relapse.
-let this throats
Colombian Necktie
choke that Franglais.
Flat nose whistle
goes up ahead.
Up ahead
on the
Pilates punk
.
The righteous
shall flourish
like a palm tree.
GTFO!
The righteous
shall perish
and no man
layeth it to heart.
I swerved
away
into the dark.
Forty-five inches
from heel to heel...
Forty-five inches
from heel to heel...
There
but for
the grace
of god
goes
God
8.Pilgrim
Writer(s)：Scott Walker
Heya, heya, heya, heya.
Heya, heya, heya, heya.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Heya, heya, heya, heya.
Heya, heya, heya, heya.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Blowing up bullfrogs
with a straw.
Blowing up bullfrogs
with a straw.
Blowing up bullfrogs
with a straw.
Staring
into their eyes
just before they
burst.
Heya, heya, heya, heya.
Heya, heya, heya, heya.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Heya, heya, heya, heya.
Heya, heya, heya, heya.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
Room full of mice.
No ear, two tails,
one eye, three
toes.
No ear, two tails,
one eye, three
toes.
No ear, two tails,
one eye, three
toes.
9.The Day The
Writer(s)：Scott Walker
I am nurturant, compassionate,
caring.
O Not so much.
O Very much.
I am out-going／socially
active.
O Not so much.
O Very much.
My ideal partner
should be assertive.
O Not so much.
O Very much.
And nobody
waited for
fire.
Nobody
waited for
fire.
Nobody
waited for
fire.
And nobody
waited for
fire.
Nobody
waited for
fire.
Nobody
waited for
fire.
Most of the chaos in
my life is caused by
O Internal factors.
O External factors.
Faced with decision
I am most likely to：
O Pick and choose
quickly.
O Explore all options.
If I were a garden
I would most resemble
O A wildflower garden.
O An English garden.
And nobody
waited for
fire.
Nobody
waited for
fire.
Nobody
waited for
fire.
And nobody
waited for
fire.
Nobody
waited for
fire.
Nobody
waited for
fire.
When you turn
in your sleep,
will you roll across
the path？
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