Lyrics:

I Haven't Fucked Much With The Past, But I've Fucked Plenty With The
future. Over The Skin Of Silk Are Scars From The Splinters Of Stations And
walls I've Caressed. A Stage Is Like Each Bolt Of Wood, Like A Log Of
helen, Is My Pleasure. I Would Measure The Success Of A Night By The Way
by The Way By The Amount Of Piss And Seed I Could Exude Over The Columns
that Nestled The P.a. Some Nights I'd Surprise Everybody By Skipping Off
with A Skirt Of Green Net Sewed Over With Flat Metallic Circles Which
dazzled And Flashed. The Lights Were Violet And White. I Had An Ornamental
veil, But I Couldn't Bear To Use It. When My Hair Was Cropped, I Craved
covering, But Now My Hair Itself Is A Veil, And The Scalp Inside Is A
scalp Of A Crazy And Sleepy Comanche Lies Beneath This Netting Of The
skin. I Wake Up. I Am Lying Peacefully I Am Lying Peacefully And My Knees
are Open To The Sun. I Desire Him, And He Is Absolutely Ready To Seize Me.
in Heart I Am A Moslem; In Heart I Am An American; In Heart I Am Moslem,
in Heart I'm An American Artist, And I Have No Guilt. I Seek Pleasure. I
seek The Nerves Under Your Skin. The Narrow Archway; The Layers; The
scroll Of Ancient Lettuce. We Worship The Flaw, The Belly, The Belly, The
mole On The Belly Of An Exquisite Whore. He Spared The Child And Spoiled
the Rod. I Have Not Sold Myself To God.