The Hill Dwellers
Way back past the realm of pain.
Back where there's never any pain
And the rain falls gently on the town
And over the heads of all of us
And in the labyrinth of streams beneath the Quiet unearthly presence of
Nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hills around
Repitles abounding
Fossils, caves, cool air heights
Each house repeats a mold
Windows rolled
A beast car locked in a against morning.
All now sleeping
Rugs silent, mirrors vacant,
Dust blind under the beds of lawful couples
Wound in sheets
And daughters, smug with semen
Eyes in their nipples
Wait! There's been a slaughter here
Don't stop to speak or look around
Your gloves and fan are on the ground
We're getting out of town
We're going on the run
And your the one I want to come!