oh i knew you would ask me for the rest of my tale
i a poor slave
who has worked hard his whole life
labouring in the field
out in the etruscan dusk
swooning under moons of musk
under the long dreamy hazes of middays
that drift through these lives of mine
oh the songs
the grape
oh the girls and their wild rites
deranged by wine and secret magical herbs
when venus herself appears all radiant and golden
when the summer is high and days are long
and water in the river runs sweet and warm
and stars above glow white dazzled yet still so distant
and we sleep so deeply so alive so alive
the music that i hear sad strings plucked so strangely
and the funny little steps of our dancing
oh would you understand them?
the faun comes kicking thru the woods finally at last
with his pipe and his goatish ways
maenads yes i have seen them raving fucking mad
under some spell i suppose they have lost their shame
and we drink some more and we laugh some more
and the music picks up speed
a dull drum has begun to thump in my temples
i see lights that are not there
hands touch me everywhere
i reach out stumbling laughing… who is there..?
why i cant see in this upside down twilight…i never ask myself..
i feel lips pressed against me
i feel the wine in my mouth slosh round my tongue
oh the bloody grape!
a small voice says my boy theyve put something in your wine
as i start to slowly spin round and round
i clutch at trees and fields
i clutch at strange faces and soft naked fleshies
i clutch at the blurry pink pink pink moon
i clutch at my name but its lost
who will remember it one week after i’m gone…?
who will hear the songs i thought would go on for forever
who will see these impressions i took
that i thought would last and last
who will understand how close i was
or what it took to get this far?
my name and my feet elude me
i fall facedown in the softness of my fantasies
eyes peer in to mine
they change into the eyes of an owl
these eyes that peer into mine
boring into my head and watching me squirm
and i push at nothing in the darkness
in the delirium of my life where every whisper is a lie
and the night has a thousand eyes
and how i was bound to go down
down down down to the bed with a shining glass sound
and how i was never found
never found again answering to my name
my name means something like dream
but more like a dream you cant remember
its a sad name its true
but still i can never remember it
not after all the wine
rich deep red wine
darkly oozing from a split skin
full of warp and woof
full of oblivion so warm and true
my name means something like that i was told
a dream within a grove
an arbour of flighty pheasants and vain peacocks
a story without a teller
just like the necropolis outlined against the nightsky