FINGERS ON KEYS, BOUNCING LIKE FOOLS WITH THE MADNESS SPRAWLED ON THE COUCH BEHIND. 1st Part Got the hands with the bouncing craze of two lone just-met daddy-long-legs And the picture appears, while hitting hard black and white innocent keys that beg Those inflated peasant paws I watched 9 years ago before i quit the fields, the kegs, the dregs Snatching nettles lands in the cold, barehanded, spine curved ! Bowlegs ! Nutmeg ! They now kick and snare harmonies, had forgot december harvests in the ground, the trees Salads, tomatoes, potatoes...SHIT! I won't tell stories of païsanos I handle Time, doing like a kitty with a snow globe, I do L.F.O's marry-go-round and paint a glory robe My bear fingers now got back to pinkies, i slide them in the row chief's holy hole No way sitting on a crate or kneeling on the ground, this stony red front welcoming as an elkhound Wanted the ass of every workers smiling to the zenith, spine arched, wrists in the ground His glory of the day was the scenery of these eighteen hobos potatoes head-seekers Pettiness & trickery, his finest art...to plow others, keep them from springing, to keep huskers « Keep hands Teach fingers how to repeat the same the same the same..." « Accept your condition ! look at those frozen on the ground planes... Wave at Janes !... let your dream wanes !... » But with a tiny remaining spark i launched a fire and took the risks, the scars, the marks T'was the pyre of others realities inside me, i knew the rules : hunger, ruin, freedom, broken loves I fart dry on the madness masturbating comfy, sated as she'll always be, behind me Play my synth as a disturbed in-love orangutan within his own deserted jungle town My muscle memory 's not farmer only, they've been rented for factories Now they're on oscillators like bandits on the run and open enveloppes like secret teen nun Hundreds of watts and bulbs hanging like pears, with no hope of falling, sizzling in unison Concrete and bricks standing in organisation, giant green machines paced for invasion A dull and greasy sound stream absorbs the air like a mechanical seashore, a building trade funfair The paper came down from the conveyor belts in battered batches handed out by mad croupiers Came straight in my head : « What should be done? » but my hands at an unsuspected speed, knew it, did it. It tamped, tamped, uniformized a bundle and placed two elastics to freeze it I wondered which day was it ? and I fucking did not know which day it was... Was it today, yesterday or tomorrow ? How many weeks had they been bending for paper rows? hundreds of cuts drawn me in the palms mini war trenches, deep, thin, long , bloody ! bloody ! a frame with large metal letters H . E . I . D . E . L . B . E . R . G indicating sixteen thousands sheets per minute...the sprawling paper monster was called HEIDELBERG It was grabbing all... as do instant eater bitches...eyes, gestures, ears, mind, time, I drifted in a paper erg !... I freaked out, looked at my fingers, nothing had changed, packages, pages, shapes, numbers, pacing pacing No delay, discrepancy, disorder, I panicked all the more, and keep on looking for stammers The machine laying down like restless dinosaur hadn't stopped for 8 hours of ravenous devotion My movements enraged, measured, accurates had no strength left to doubt situation This continuous flow i thought is The New God, no matter what it tells, it spreads, spreads, spreads No need of churches, temples, mosques...just malls...the Giants spit paper ads and shit cheap idols And then the big Green crushed in a hiccup, some sheets got stuck, some others flew up «Stamped down ! Stamped down !» the row chief said « Careful ! Big Boss in the lane...ya wanna be paid ?» 2nd Part Only lines you trace of wounds own the scarlet gushing light to jump the bound All my mind is a... busted helicopter... going round and round and round... My rich slut's touch is now fit to unlock nunneries, humid high schools and milky violet rings And the words flow, punch, fly, bounce, mock placebos / jump, dive, rush, vibrate in my jar like dildos Am a dirty sponge in a couch, laying low, spinning lassos looking at antilopes environs - Madness beside, semi-soft, all but a buddy – scanning legs, i got a hard-on that could lift cast iron...