quick quick quick! call the exorcist!
that spiritual warrior armed with water
a cross and black book because
I need his rain dance and wooden wafers
to chase away the insects
that buzz and bite and stitch nests
in my throat it’s their fault
all theirs not mine not me no way
I haven’t always been like this
I don’t like to belch bad breath
and demon wind I don’t particularly enjoy
waking with my head screwed on backwards or
having the pigeons attack me every time
I step out of the goddamn house or
the toilet refusing to flush what I
feed it every morning
not when I dream of clean sheets
and soft voices and guitars that slash
A N T H E M again and again hey
have you found that number yet?
these days die like broken-backed birds
that tumble from the lips of the corpse on his cross
really it’s discouraging to discover the boxes
on your brand new calendar already chalked off
tik tak tok gone oh well (we sing) another year!
the devil sends his beast with wrath because
he knows the time is short, yeah yeah yeah well
he can get the fuck out of my head anytime
because the bastard hasn’t paid rent since
christmas and the goddamn check bounced
and —wait a second, are you for real? you
found the number? it’s ringing? it’s ringing!
it’s… a recording.