81 Poop Hatch (2006 Digital Remaster)

81 Poop Hatch (2006 Digital Remaster) - Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band

My eyes are burnt and bleeding

And all that looks like a monkey on a silver bar

Holes that the light shows in

And the light shows out

And the little red fence

And the wire and the wood

And the barbs and the berries

And the tires and the bottles

And the caruponrims

And the heat swims on its fenders

And the dust collects

And the rust of autumn surrenders into gold

Trumpet poop on the ground with peanuts

Its bell was blocking an ant's vision

And the mice played in its air holes and valves

A ladybug crawled off

Its mouthpiece standing out red

And blacked its wings and blew off to a flower

Its hum heard just above the ground

Black dots were hung in what

Turned out to be an olive tree

That originally held a tree house full of

A building with one small window

Birds and broken glass and tiny bits of newspaper

"My sun is free from the window "

Said the god the green dabbers

Rice wires mouse tins and milk muffins

Cereal and stone

Matches and masks and mace and clubs

And splintered shaft light intrigues

A cricket on a dust jeweled penlet

Cobwebs collect down plaster run into

A hole and find collected glass

That drinks the reflection of

Midday afternoon midway

Between telegraph lines

A crowd of various violins strum from

Next door through my wall into

My ear obviously artificial

Neighbors laugh through sandwiches

Their eyes shiny with starvation

Spreckled hula dance on my phonograph

My door rattles windy

Sand wears my rug shoe and taps

On the unheard finish of an hourglass

I cannot hear

A typical musician's nest of thoughts

Filter through dust speakers

"Why don't you go home

Oh Blobby are you great "

Exclaims two lips in some

Jumbled rock 'n' roll tune

And wears a spot I cannot scratch

The surface of a friend

This high book a friend laid on me

On the couch relaxing in the corner behind

A still life pond with plenty of bugs and

Lily pads slurred in mud banks

And boulders tin cans

And raisins warped by thought

Strain on the spoon like a wheat

Out of his sleeve

Pick up the horns

But the head won't move until it walks