Из альбома: Perplexions

n the alpine villiage of Boyence

Bare-chested and wearing amulets


Three hundred machete-weilding peasants,

The three hundred inhabitants,

Heard the noises made when icebergs crack

It's quite an eerie sound to here the Earth ripping apart like dat



In a village close to the border

Demonstrations and rioting can occur with little or no warning

Cheering and youthful pilgrams on the streets by the millions

And a command from her majesty

To order our national flowers or virgins

To converge at the Luetezieni palace on Sunday

So that they can drop their woolen tassles on Monday

Beyond a backdrop of banditry and armed rivalry

Ingeniusly barbaric machete-weilding peasants

Perform victory jigs in idolitry



Three sailors were drowned in lake

When they became entangled in underwater vegetation

Creating murky plume that stretched for miles

To a make-shift morgue

'Farewell, Cousin, because here we're frozen'

Said Hans Rutie, a successful Swiss corn broker

Ander was swept away by a swollen torrent overnight

He used to dance at the souveinr shop

Between two arrant strips of cloth

Media critic, David Shah, dies alone at 62

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