Early

The morning with its strings
tied roughly to the hilltops of the sky
is smiling with golden lips
and shattered teeth
to the lonesome killers in the valley

the morning tied its quilt
to the goodness of the sun
and the binoculars of the sky
hardly reach the distant rooms
where people shyly awake

rising from their slippery beds
they look out of guillotine windows
as the sun is bound to behead them
then they abandon their pajamas
and retire into the woods

in the soldierlike forest
they cover their bald heads
waiting for noon to overtake them
they're telling each other to be kind
to the children of their children

the towels of the afternoon
then come and dry the wounded and wet
the sun circling madly in its cage
is sticking needles in their skulls
and even the oldest prayers are no help

potato-like hills wink in the evening
electric light reveals masochist countries
the flowers have retired into the past
the trees preach that the night is here
and people try to forget about the future.


1967. Zoals ik al noteerde bij het nummer Powdery grey is ook dit een totaal ongestructureerd ding dat niet rijmt en geen correct ritme heeft en toch beschouwde ik dat toen als een lied, zette het effectief op muziek en trad er vaak succesvol mee op.