-djinn – P.I.N.K. (Pink International Nuclear Koalition)

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P.I.N.K. (Pink International Nuclear Koalition) 

Crash, crash, crash, that’s a newsflash, waiting for you to see. Dash, dash, dash, as your children are starting to cry and scream…

They call the new government the coalition of the unwilling. They said it was an improvement – I call it a disease. A bit of support can really help out all the people there just tell you watch out; it’s out of control, the way they come. You haven’t done a thing to make them hate you, your kids are gonna die it’s because of you; it’s so out of control you can’t make a sound.

Run as far as your legs can carry you run faster. And if you fall crawl on your knees cause you can’t run faster.

Bunnies have flown over the sea, we have sheltered under the ground. They were loaded with batteries, I couldn’t make a sound.

A bit of support can really help out all the people there just tell you watch out; it’s out of control, the way they come. You haven’t done a thing to make them hate you, your kids are gonna die it’s because of you; it’s so out of control you can’t make a sound.

Run as far as your legs can carry you run faster, and if you fall crawl on your knees cause you can’t run faster.

-DJINN

He walks through your window, no wall can stop him, neither can doors. He stalks through your soul. He calls you puppet; he owns you to the core. He owns so much money there is no number that goes that high.

We are his hands, we are his feet, we are his teeth, we are his to play with, we are his hands, we are his feet, we are his teeth, we are his to play with.

Unbalanced like feather in the wind I’m on fire. What to do I don’t deserve to be made to be a servant. Let’s not fight, let’s just complain, and we’ll all be responsible…

PEARLS 

Crunching the soft jewels in his hands, the man is dozing off unaware. He thinks to himself: “Oh my youth where have you gone?” And from his head gracefully leaps a rider, holding hands with a witch. What a shame, what a disgrace! Cunning as they are they go for the weaknesses: the pearls have gone missing. What are they fleeing? The witch and the rider have stolen the man’s quiet ways.

But everything is not lost; there may be a way to retrieve the pearls. Who’s to blame? Who’s to embrace? Don’t look for culprits it’s pretty useless. Don’t postpone, don’t worry, for all is not lost. The witch and the rider are in your imagination.

FINGERPAINT

A seashore in the wintertime, onto which he stands alone. He looks at the waves trying to figure out which way’s up and which is down. The wind has blown and dried up the sea, now it’s empty for him to cross. He takes off his shoes and walks straight to the sun: there may be answers in the burn.

He’s got this weird amnesia, the bounty of sleepless fits. He washed the soul from his veins and replaced it with fingerpaint.

Just between land and sky, there’s a path of conscious lies. It’s a place where a name can die somewhere in between trees. He’s got this weird amnesia, the bounty of sleepless fits. He washed the soul from his veins and replaced it with fingerpaint.

His eyes a knowing trance, lying through his teeth; his arms a hardened strength that the sleeves too well sheathe. He’s got this weird amnesia, the bounty of sleepless fits. He washed the soul from his veins and replaced it with fingerpaint. 

 WESTERN PSYCHE

I was to leave on a secret quest but I felt homesick on the first day. I was to lead a great conquest; my steed was seasick on the next day. All I could find was a skinny donkey and then my friends I was on my way.

When I had journeyed for a day – Mommy had phoned a thousand times – I heroically went through hell’s gates. My hands trembled but I was fine. That’s when he died my shabby donkey, and so my friends I dug a grave.

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