1. |
Temple of Hands
05:28
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I see before me a temple of hands
hands clawing at fake bones and sand
sand smoothing skin and stuck in my teeth
teeth tied together and hanging from me
my blood slowed to mud and stopping at last
last to be done and last to be grasped
grasped in a gasp and circadian math
as black as a sign on a witch I know's hand
crying to allah and crying to krishna
krishna wishing for enochian issues
solved by his brains own aching tissues
trying to destroy the temple he's building with you
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2. |
(Duga)
03:51
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I'm talking about you, Duga!
Duga magnificent!
Duga who returns from the dead,
vulture with four wings
while hovering, it pecks!
By gripping thew ground with his talons
He digs a hole in the rock
Ah, Lord de la Savanne
It is to you I sing my address, Duga!
Anyone who steps on you you said no
Duga, I mean men
Which, by their deeds,
Enrolled in a commendable act... Refrain
Ah, Duga
So small in sizes
if by great exploits!
Duga, who loves wine warming
Never left his thirst for revenge
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3. |
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I wrote you on my wall in hexagrams
you've got paisley tattoos on yr palms
ectoplasm, no fear; let's just talk
tell me all that you see beneath the moss
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4. |
(Les Femmes)
03:01
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5. |
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please take me back to the bridge i know what you keep at the bridge you keep the books at the bridge the books i need to cast my spell the spell i need to free myself i caught myself inside the Earth 60 feet deep inside the Earth where birds have gone unto their death their death from fumes below the ridge the ridge i reached across your bridge hey ya mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm yah yah yah zzzzzzz mmm hey yah
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6. |
Cursed Blues
03:03
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I laid my rug out
& I kneeled before you
You took my spell book
those magic words are true
I left it in the woods
when our love was new
but now you've caused me heartache
cause you gave me cursed blues
I played the tarot
and it told me how to get through
I burned my money
and I drank of the dew
but still don't got my spellbook
cause I can't find you
you disappeared into the backwoods
cause you gave me cursed blues
I played the tarot
and it told me how to get through
I burned my $$$ and I drank of the dew
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7. |
Fistful of Nothing
04:55
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Form is emptiness
and void is the stomach of a beautiful witch
a collector of tears is this sorceress
she converts them into stars with her drug-high tricks
I broke my lungs on fresh air
...
as you sell my prayer to the trickster hare
I turn inside out without a care
........le' ma'andouche l'auto is made of sighs
I found the sweetest jug of wine
made by djinnis as an astral sign
we drank it until my trails returned
and your kiss brought fractals to my pattern-mind
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8. |
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9. |
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slain over earth
merely worthless herbs
I hear a night bird
laughing blood and tears
slicing hamstrings
in a sunset town
vines and stone
crumbling all around
stand before the gate
scream but still you wait
relentless golden visage
impassive hallowed state
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10. |
Om Dream-Tree Om Tat Sat
14:23
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Picatrix Sound Chicago, Illinois
Audio transmissions from an array of realms, produced by Picatrix Sound... Associated with the Terrible Pleasures tape collective
Picatrix Sound recommends:
wound like a mouth
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