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dizraeli - to the garden كلمات الأغنية

in the garden made of snow
nothing living lies below
hear the songbird breathing slow
in a garden made of snow

one quarter of the muddy platoon, man
and i’m not in it for the drugs and the poontang
release songs like they’re coloured balloons, man
see them rise ’til they bump on the moon landscape
i’m rooted but my head’s in the clouds though
etch a message in indelible sound, bro
my letters spread around the globe like katrina did
anti-hurricane ’cause i build where my thesis hits
still a storm, you can’t shutter me in voodoo
must travel like huckleberry finn used to
sketch a picture of your mum in a tin tutu
just to confuse you

then i make a tune for your b-ttocks and hips to move to
let your b-ttoned-up lips get loose to the process
no need for the singer, mate
i speared britney then i peed in the timberlake
finally a little peace from the cilla game
the empty-v screen and the t-tty shake
zim- zimmer frame, i ate the keys to your beamer
lay by from the speed of the interstate

in the garden made of sand
mona lisa leads the band
they strike up when she lifts her hand
in a garden made of sand

i’m loving this
it’s brilliant when my friends are round me
without breaking objects, we break boundaries
at times we do break objects, and somebody calls the state mounties
but generally, we make sounds with our mouth-pieces
it’s brilliant, the fact that these scriptures even
at times make it onto cds, it’s double-d wicked
like when you nuzzle the sweet t-ts of your lover
and each minute fills infinity’s limits, bountiful
the beautiful views of the town that i hang around, it’s cool
sometimes i bike out to the downs and lounge in full sunshine
this one time, i stripped down to my bouncy b-lls
browned it all off in the sun, then cooled off in a trout pool
that’s it! at least it’s what i feel i’m looking for
the flow of xi and peace of which you read in buddhist thought
but it’s rawer than that, it’s the gaps between the t–th
of the deepest sea creatures that attack squid with black ink, kinetic jaw
it’s the pitted paw of the jackal, the livid roar of the grizzled bear
the armpit itch of the poet and it’s all sitting there
blood, stones, sticks, soil, while you’re sat listening to chris moyles

in a garden made of worms
new domestos k!lls the germs
press-ups make your pickle firm
in a garden made of worms

- dizraeli

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