.
                           .         a n a d a  1 2 3        0 8 - 1 6 - 0 0
                           .
  . .   . . .    . .    . .    . .
 .   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .                "Some shit."
 .   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .
  . . .  .   .   . . .  . . .  . . .                by Infernal


  . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 Running gunning punning
 Lips along metal
 Cold paint on steel
 Like a veneer on a glacier
 Like a venereal
 Disease
 This ease
 With which I peel myself
 Away
 Aweigh
 Anchors aweigh
 Sail away
 From this rotten mooring
 From a boring morning
 Facing
 The glare of the sun
 Of the sum
 Of the sins I've racked up
 Cracked up
 In this small town shell hell bell pell mell tell
 Tell
 Tell
 Tell me
 Over and Over again my friend
 About the Town Slut
 The Loose Nut
 The Hot Lust
 Of the White Trash chip pain garages
 Paint goulashes
 Decoupages
 Lost in a capillary alleyway
 Of endings
 And bendings
 And interconnectings
 Only the small town fucker
 Would know
 Hoe
 Blow
 Go
 Away in a stranger
 No crib to be led
 But a thirty-year veteran
 In the wars that we've bled
 No juice from the sky (this guy?)
 Drip down where we lay
 The small-town messiah
 In shit where he lay

 Take her home, go alone,
 In the field where you played
 And find Jesus, not to please us,
 Fast asleep on your hay.
 
 Love the glossy ideal
 Of the place where you stayed
 but the sweat-covered imprint
 Is the home of the lay.

  . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
                                                                             
  .           anada 123                   by Infernal  (c)2000 anada e'zine .
      
  . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .