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ate ate ate

by putiferio

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1.
every time I drink a little more with mademoiselle hate we end in bed and make love till the morning arrive it’s pain scratches my throat my sighs change into roars useless to get scared or repent for such a black night the infection signs getting pumped from my heart they dig holes regurgitate black spleen out of my chest so the next morning head in my pillow in search for an happy thought “hey, miss black machine gun shoot a song for me in this ratatatata morning I’ll be falling right through” and i do the face painted like a hungun whistling anthems of a lost war a gingerbread man baked with anger a golem a vampire a revenant Face it I’m not free to die and it’s half an hour I’m trying my left hand passing me as a sewing machine a spear runs through my belly that spear is making me live a spear runs through my belly that spear is making me live it halts my fluids from leaking that spear is making me live it helps my back to stand on that spear is making me live Oh bless that spear, it’s spreading all its wooden roots in my fat flashy body, you can see them writhing under my skin, climbing up my lungs up, up, up to my throat, perforate my glands and bloom their black fruits change my voice and the words I’m saying sound as a beast half goat half men speaking of an old flame (all we are saying) is give peace a cancer
2.
oh Lord/if I only could let kittens raise out of the dust/it would be war//I can see all of them exploding out in the town/a storm of paw scratches and moustaches covered in blood and we’ll made all those damn’ rats cry out the day they fucking popped out and filth this blessed soil and there won’t even be time to ask for a merciful fate streams of sad tears will be washing out the trashcans weep weep weep until it real hurts until your bones will stretch your fat cheeks until your tears burn and your face is deformed as it smiled ‘til it breaks down weep scream weep sigh your last sigh and prepare to be erased from this spot and repent for all the squeaky laughter having fun of this chant of war this is no joke man we’ll cut your woolrich scalp out so watch your self hard ah but I can see myself stuck in the bloody hole I’ve ever been the same bloody person, if it was up to me to free you from disgust I’d made myself blow out wish I had a bomb shirt a bomb suit just like the lemmings game they weren’t afraid to die when done properly
3.
please tell me that it’s over I can’t stay here in this cold place please tell me that it’s over can’t stand those eyes pointing my face oh please please over over over we could be hand in hand like we were before in the late august sun on the way home look at me smaller than petit hidden ‘round your brown coat as it comes clear that Monday after Monday except Saturday and Sunday…I still don’t know the days names but know there is no Sunday and in these body cave I wish and wish and wish wish that those creatures go away instead of staring me and…oh, no no no no no better wish that their red striped bodies could be the tapestry for these great white walls 30 years ago I can remember still the mix of fear and puke that human carnival I wished they were dead and I wished I was dead oh, I wished, you, someone…don’t wanna stay here don’t wanna be here in spite of all your games I’d rather be alone 30 years has passed 5 after you are gone and nothing ever changed the same old wishes no wiser vision no silent hope in need of your coat the only thing I know without your sturdy clutch I’ll never walk on never walk on never walk on
4.
well, you can put it like this when your house will fall down it will surely do it brick by brick by brick but at its sudden collapse facing its structure destroyed you have to reconsider all the things that you made up and the blood that you spilt all the love that you took out and see it get crushed and rebuilt and destroyed again all the times that you trust it and you always got fooled and the mask you put on is the same as your face and your life is disguised in vain and everything you spit out have to get washed away by the rain wishes hopes beliefs and what remains of your whole life will better follow the same instead of marking your skin like the sweetest thoughts the strongest crush the righteous aims the sacred oaths the immaculate dreams the hallowed pacts well, sum it up their large amounts maybe the amounts of dust that gather ‘round your feet it is not so different from what you once had and we’re all pile of ashes, sacks of dirt bind together by spits and those things we think we’re building like handshakes, or hugs, or kisses, or loves are not worth more than the swamp that will swallow them except for the wind that wipes me except for the rain that is scratching my skin except for the fire that inflates me except for the blood that is raging me in so here, as the last teeth of an old man I kneel and twirl in the world open mouth my nerves twitching to a sound unheard as I dance to that, to the sound of my beating heart and the sky never seemed so great all creased by those streams of grey clouds at the first taste of morning my body resounds as a crystal vibrating, approaching the crash and the stars never seem to fade and their words of cold burning fire purify my senses wash out my voice guide me to the path of a newborn I can feel the thorns of rage on my fingertips I can feel my stomach shutting my mouth and speaking for me I can hear a new voice screaming around me filling me in and becoming my scream nature set me free (from my) nature (please) set me free)
5.
Hate ate 8 04:04
sometimes i wish everybody could read the words that I’m carrying within my skin marks that a pale knife once carved on me never healed pustules that I keep on opening swollen by the snakes writhing inside of me and they come out of my head, out of my head, out of my head my body is like a blackboard and wanting to die is the chalk and oh if I had an extra hand to tattoo hate hate hate across my fingers here’s my prayer to you, butcher catalogue my poems before you cry it all out tumor est tumor est there’s blasphemy all over my chest an halo bent around my neck a triple h across my left hand
6.
a rusty knife, a broken glass, a saw a driller, something that has a damn’ tip ‘cause I can find something working in this bloody mess I look at my hands and what I see looks like tentacles cut ‘em out, tear ‘em away, better get rid of them and let those signs be the marks of a new start scars ain’t scars, they’re quite scarce there’s no red streams between my crinkles but nothing works, as it never ever worked and no cuts can reach out the real heart no holes no blood drips not more than a useless display of self made resorts to problems that always persist where have all the sharp razors gone?
7.
and the thoughts that I had became things turned to dust filled my hands with red spots eat ‘em out make a hole a small hole a large hole I can see through my flesh I can see through my blood see the sun turning black see the sky turning red hear them chanting (war!) hear their beating drums see them dancing (war!) see them grabbing stones

about

Recorded and mixed at Blocco A in Padua by Giulio Ragno Favero
In this album:
giulio: drum and effects
panda: voice and effects
mirco: guitar
walter: guitar

Released by Robot Radio Records (www.robotradiorecords.com)

credits

released April 1, 2008

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putiferio Padova, Italy

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