The Collective Soul is Rotting

Perverted animal, knowing the whole world of sex

I’ve thoroughly penetrated you and I remember

This makes me just as perverted as you

Aren’t we happy together

In our slum, forever arguing

And getting nowhere

Life is sweet when there’s nothing but perversion

To lead us to the heights

Being there with you I meet human consciousness head on

Observing, recognising itself, and dying with us

The collective soul is just as rotten as ours

Because we are its progeny

No Faith, No Hope

Ah, I must empty my heart

Of all its rottenness

I’m so far from fulfilment and inner peace

I yearn to die as I yearn to kill

No light on the horizon

And yet I know all about mysticism

Know how to reach spirituality

Find God

But it’s all from the mind

Nothing from the heart

I’m incapable of love

But capable of death

My sensitivity is useless

I could destroy humanity with my violent thoughts

No faith, no hope

I’m Corrupt

I’m corrupt

As corrupt as you could have wished

I’m corrupt to the marrow of my bones

I suffer from an incurable disease

Fluttering in my brain

Gnawing at my bones and offering me doubt

Pain, unhappiness

I walk with the weight of my guilt

Through streets punctuated with churches

Knowing right from wrong at last and doing wrong

They’ve got me

My thoughts are no longer my own

I’ve fallen into their net

I’ve listened, swallowed, digested

I suffer from an incurable disease

Called God

Being Nothing

I’m an explosion of places

A multitude of times

There are several versions of me

I follow this path or that while believing I’m following my destiny

But it makes me suffer so much

To know I’m following a beaten track and living too intensely

I try to accept, to experience, everything

Although I could easily spare myself

I’m an explosion of places

A multitude of times

I chase all sorts of possibilities

I follow this path or that, I’m my own destiny

It makes me suffer so much

But I’m learning to get acquainted with life

Acquainted with the lives of others

They’re just like mine

I’m an explosion of places

A multitude of times

But I still feel I’m nothing

Grubby and ugly, empty and worthless

How can such a heap of meat follow a destiny?

Let’s Go to Mass On Sunday

I went into a church on Sunday

With the latest edition of Let Us Pray in Church

I kissed the congregation, fulfilling my destiny

Doing a favour to those in need of love

The priest smiled broadly, delighting in this joyous Mass

He thanked me and absolved me from my sins

Absolution, nothing too wicked for God to forgive

I went into a church on Sunday

With the latest model of a gun

I fired on the congregation, fulfilling my destiny

Doing a favour to those who no longer saw clearly

The priest smiled broadly, delighting in this deathly Mass

He thanked me and absolved me from my sins

Absolution, nothing too wicked for God to forgive

Your Children Are All Empty Vessels

(and Sex-Obsessed!)

I’ve watched them, hyperactive and spiteful

Utterly empty-headed, blissful in their ignorance

Vegetables, like me, in the scheme of things

Learning stupidities for filling little pitchers

But they’re all cracked, spilling their contents on the floor instead of being able to act or question authority

Not one of them who doesn’t dream of flying out the window

Or making love with the person next to them

Most of them are already on drugs

And you, for the love of heaven, want to see these empty vessels do well

Your empty vessels will be successful and cracked at the same time

No matter, your children will be cracked for all eternity

How beautiful life is when your truth pours out from the mouths of your children

The Anarchist

I sacrifice myself for one and all

I come forward telling the truth

Bearing witness, as I must, to my experience

I describe my perversion, my immorality, in detail

Listen, they spit on me, trample me, and I don’t give a toss any more

I’m here, it’s today

I’m not, unlike you, a mass of defences, ready to spring into action

A tissue of falsehoods for justifying my failures

Fifty-six ways to camouflage the truth

Here it is utterly naked in front of you

Open your eyes and learn a lesson from it

You’ll never be better than me

You’ll never be worth more than me

I’m the one who confronts life

I’m the one who confronts truth

Have a Nice Cup of Tea, My Dear

«We don’t need all this violence, this rowdy music, these indecent pictures»

«When you’re older, you’ll change, you’ll understand, I hope»

«You’ve got two choices left: law or medicine»

«You’ve got to have this diploma and these qualifications at least»

«What you should do now is watch others and do as they do»

«Why aren’t you doing it?»

«Where were you last night? Your life is ruled by sex»

«You don’t dabble in drugs, I hope. Remember alcohol’s a drug too»

«You have no idea of right and wrong»

«You must keep trying, one day you’ll get it right»

«Have a nice cup of tea, my dear»

And choke on it!

I’ll Tell What’s Normal

It’s the truth as you’ll never know it

It’s serial infidelity by women as much as by men

It’s such a revulsion with life that a whole chemist’s shop couldn’t cure it

It’s separation, divorce, depression, abortion

It’s short-lived affairs where sex is what matters most

It’s a decent bottle of Scotch or of Cognac

It’s a packet of cigarettes harbouring cancer to gnaw at your guts

It’s random, street-corner death for a thousand and one reasons

It’s a struggle for power or money where no one’s the outright winner

It’s a high-class bitch who knows everything and subjects you to her morals from hell

It’s a whore who’s been humped by a businessman and dies from an overdose of coke

It’s a gaggle of neuroses meeting up to reinforce each other

It’s the Pope saying the opposite of what he thinks in the name of we don’t know what

It’s a country owned by big, rich companies

It’s lives in hock to banks

It’s ubiquitous hypocrisy

It’s institutionalised slavery

It’s political corruption at every level

It’s God dead and buried

I Fucked the Town Slag

Resplendent in her lovely garish frock

Breasts bursting with hormones

Wig of hair piled half a yard at least on top of her head

She was really beautiful, my slag

Singing to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day

Counting her ex-boy friends in the bar, they came to far too many

I took her, just as she was, back to my hotel room

They must have thought I’d found a whore and not been too fussy about it

But I kissed her, sucked her, fucked her inside out, my slag

She was as docile as a bitch on heat who asks for more, my slag

I should have snatched the wig off my slag

Deflated the ballooning breasts of my slag

Clawed off her frock and her buttocks, my slag

Finally killed her with pleasure, my slag

Last night I fucked the town slag

And now I feel free

It’s Par for the Course in New York

I’d hardly set foot in this great American city and already we were having sex in a taxi

«But that’s par for the course in New York»

Then we went out, found ourselves at an orgy, with everyone at it all round us

«But that’s par for the course in New York»

Then we met a surgeon, aged seventy, who wanted us to make up a threesome

«But that’s par for the course in New York»

Then I met a hundred and one people you’d slept with in one year

«But that’s par for the course in New York»

Then I saw your sixty credit cards, all of them over the limit

«But that’s par for the course in New York»

For you I worked in a mafia restaurant, swarming with rats and cockroaches

«But that’s par for the course in New York»

I met your psychiatrist friend who prescribed some amazing pills for me

«But that’s par for the course in New York»

With you I caught several sexually transmitted diseases

«But that’s par for the course in New York»

I even saved you from a drug-induced suicide where you coughed up blood

«But that’s par for the course in New York»

For all those things, I love you

«Ah, that’s not par for the course in New York»

Drink Up Your Whisky, Old Girl, and Cheat Death

Every day God grants, I get up and go to the Off Licence

I buy two half-bottles of whisky for the old girl dying of cancer

She’s got three months to live, they tell me, so I say to her:

Drink up your whisky, old girl, and cheat death!

It’s been five years now since they first gave her three months to live

So the whisky is obviously keeping her going

And so every day God grants I get up and go the Off Licence

I buy two half-bottles of whisky for the old girl dying of cancer and I tell her:

Drink up your whisky, old girl, and cheat death!

Knowing it’s God who’s sent me, she thanks me profusely

Taking the first glass diluted with water, then drinking it neat

Next day the nurse finds her out cold, picks up the empty bottles

Crosses herself but remarks that it seems to work better than morphine

So every day God grants I get up and go to the Off Licence

I buy two half-bottles of whisky for the old girl dying of cancer and I tell her:

Drink up your whisky, old girl, and cheat death!

We’re Not a Lost Generation

I watched you from the back of the bar, felt sorry for you

Blatantly lacking in personality, you were just a hanger-on

Lost, new to this world, you walk wondering if you have the right to do so

But come on, for the love of heaven, get up and walk!

Stop breathing in what others have breathed out

Direct your energy to your surroundings

Claim your place, be a mover and shaker of this world

We’re not a lost generation

We’re a generation landed with ramshackle structures

This is no time for stupefaction, it’s a time to destroy and rebuild

Motivation destruction inspiration construction

Come on, my boy, we’ll make a man of you yet

The Alchemist

Me, an anarchist?

No way, my friend, you’re quite mistaken

I’m an alchemist, which is altogether something else

I transform the rotten human heart into something palatable

Capitalism and Communism into something else not yet invented

Compulsory moral values into something not yet invented

The whole human race into something not yet invented

Sublimation of everything into something other

Than the systematic destruction of everything

This is no mean claim

Anarchy exists, is necessary for change, but never lasts long

Soon people are killing each other and someone then takes control

Anarchy is not enough, we must have alchemy

That’s why I’m an alchemist

HELL HELP

Without hell, no heaven

Without the devil, no God

Without mediocrity, no excellence

Without death, no life

Without darkness, no light

Without unhappiness, no happiness

Without immorality, no morality

Without mortality, no immortality

Without perversion, no purity

Without evil, no good

Evil is therefore essential

Long live evil!

I Strike and I Kill

In a world of competition I’ve learned my lesson well

Out of my way, punk, or you’ll get what the others got

You can judge me, destroy me, condemn me

But you’ll have that on your conscience

Take advantage of the situation, strike, kill, step into your victim’s shoes

Even when you revel in it, we call this climbing the ladder

You get there with motivation but mainly with a good kick up the arse

The best killers are those who get to the top

Pope, King, President, Prime Minister, Minister

Swanning around in limos when they don’t have their private jets

Lesser weasels have waded through shoals of shit to get where they are

You’ll find them heading companies, organisations, financial and educational institutions

We don’t get to the top by accident, integrity would kill us

Everywhere I follow the social pattern

I strike and I kill

Outside Buckingham Palace

The other day, looking the harmless tourist, I was strolling by Buckingham Palace

I looked at the flowers, although it was dark, not knowing if the Queen could see me from her royal window

Unluckily for me I had a weapon but we should be allowed to defend ourselves, even against the Queen

They trained their guns on me, all round me the click of their catches

I went on examining the flowers, though fully aware of the threat

Lights blazed, loudspeakers began to bellow

Puzzled and panicked, I took out my weapon, held it up under the lights

They stepped back, their guns clicking again (the first time being only a warning)

They all took a look at my weapon: a harmless tourist’s camera

- You bunch of idiots, I was looking at the flowers!

Next day, to crown it all, I found out that Her Majesty was away

The Queen was visiting one of her colonies - the United States of America

Flush It All Down the Loo

Yesterday, having nothing to eat and nowhere to go, I went to look for a job

I found the three tallest buildings in town, the ones over fifty floors

The first one said Bank of something or other

-Good morning, I’ve seen your wonderful premises, the thousands of jobs you have, so here I am

«But, my boy, we’re serious here, we work hard»

-Oh? And what do you do? I’m hungry and I need a place to sleep

«Well, we manage everyone’s money and deal with economics»

-Do people need all this to have their money managed and their economics dealt with?

«Get out, you ignorant fool, you don’t understand how modern businesses work!»

The second huge building was called something like Mutual Life

«Here we sell insurance, pensions, Treasury benefits, formalities galore»

-But what you’re selling is wind! And you charge a fortune for that?

«Wind, is it? Insolent upstart! Our services are all essential and legally ratified,

The papers drawn up by the best professionals, it’s a lot of hard work!

There are 25,000 people working in this building!»

- What? 25,000 professionals with nice fat salaries for filling and filing forms?

«Get out, young innocent, get wise to the real world, the great big serious world of modern business»

The third huge building was filled to the brim with lawyers, spilling out of the top-floor windows

-I want a lawyer at once to help me understand my rights and liberties in these companies

«And how much money do you have, young man?»

-One dollar, look how lovely the Queen is on my dollar

«Get out, you cheeky young fool, you’d need 500,000 of those dollars to hire a lawyer

And even at that price he’d be crooked!»

Poor innocent that I am, I must have missed the boat

Stop Puking All Over Me

Fine by me going out with you

Fine by me drinking half the bar with you

Fine by me making dangerous love with various objects tearing my insides

Fine by me exchanging our sighs and saliva till we choke on our own CO₂

No problem piercing genital organs with rings

Bring me your instruments of torture, your whips, your leather gear, your wedding dresses

Hard drugs too, you know I love you, I’d do anything for you, even die of an overdose

If you rape me like an animal I don’t mind

Introduce me to Satanism, the Black Mass with animal sacrifice, that’s still fine

Throw me out on the street for three days, then take me back, that’s OK

I’m happy to go to those places where they swop partners

And watch illegal porno films where people do unbelievable, unimaginable things

The hell you offer me I accept as paradise

If you want me to piss in your mouth or shit on your face, I’m still up for it

But please, please, please, stop puking all over me

God Loves Me

Quickly, quickly, I went down the stairs of a dark sleazy club in New York

Someone injected me with something which brought me straight back to the surface

Even higher than the surface, I travelled through space

Angels surrounded me, like countless embodiments of the Virgin Mary

How wonderful I felt!

Absolute fulfilment which only the truly spiritual can reach

I found myself face to face with God

God said to me:

I love you!

It hit me like a huge gust of fresh air, I stayed stunned by it

Back on earth I took a plane to see my friends and tell them the good news:

God loves me!

They called the police and I found myself in a psychiatric hospital where I stayed for several days

I went through a cure of total detox (although they prescribed other drugs for me)

Now I see clearly:

God doesn’t love me!

My Life Is Ruled By Sex

…and the same thing the next day

Whether it’s the tube to Piccadilly Circus or the subway to Washington Square

I’ve only got one destination: SOHO

I go to the village, go into a pub or a club

Parade my spare-time English, my sad little eyes, my innocent face, looking all round me at once!

And it’s going on in every direction, all sides, I must learn to control myself

Then suddenly someone looks at me, this is the green light

In less than a second there I am there

So you live with your parents? You’re a Catholic?

No, no, what am I saying…:

You want to come to my place?

And there we make love like a storm unleashed from the sky

We kiss each other all over, lick, devour, masturbate, cry out and come

Afterwards we lie back, neither of us asks any questions, we part

And the same thing the next day…

Poor Little Thing

He’s got new shoes, poor little thing

He lives with his parents, poor little thing

He goes to the University of Toronto, poor little thing

He’s got a career in front of him, poor little thing

He’s got a good job now, poor little thing

He’s saving thousands of dollars, poor little thing

Soon he’ll buy a house, poor little thing

He’s got a beautiful blonde on his arm, poor little thing

He’ll have children, poor little thing

He’ll have a condo in Florida, poor little thing

He’ll have a whole apartment block in the centre of Toronto, poor little thing

He’ll be rich, his fortune amassing over the years, poor little thing

But he’ll be unhappy, poor little thing

None of his dreams coming true, poor little thing

At fifty he’ll go through his menopause, poor little thing

He won’t understand, he’ll have regrets, be remorseful, poor little thing

His uneventful past will resurface, he’ll find plenty to be sorry about, poor little thing

He’ll need help and drugs, poor little thing

Then cancer will carry him off, poor little thing

Poor little thing

My Head’s About to Explode

This morning, in the next hour, this is what I should do:

My tax returns

A CV and some job applications

Answer letters, pay bills

Deal with demands from my bank about my overdraft

Find some money and something to eat

Find somewhere to live, I’m being evicted in two days

Find the love of my life, I’m in despair

My head’s about to explode

In fact, what I have to do this morning is this:

Sell some of my non-essential belongings

Buy an airline ticket for who cares where

Take a look at what’s left then: nothing

Start all over again

My head’s about to explode!

In fact what I really have to do this morning is much simpler:

Go to sleep and never wake up again

I Pissed on the Sorbonne

The bells of the Sorbonne are ringing

It’s the day I wrecked my whole course

The day I abandoned it all

And then got completely rat-arsed

On wine like a real old wino

I burnt all my papers

Junked all my notes

I ran through the streets

Saint-Germain, Saint-Michel

To the Place de la Sorbonne, came to a halt

I unzipped, I pissed

Yes, I pissed on the Sorbonne, but that’s nothing, I should have shat on it

I Love My Sugar Daddy

He holds me with his shaking hands, asks me for a kiss

We sit on a balcony overlooking Central Park

He falls asleep with his head on my stomach, listening to it rumble

Oh my dear sugar daddy, where would I be without you?

In the street, where I spend all my time

You feed me, listen to me, appreciate me

You see in me what no one else can see

In your eyes I’m master of everything

The world belongs to me, I just have to reach out my hand

According to you I’m intelligent, handsome, a part of this world

He watches me as best he can, gets me to sign bills for him

I drive him wherever he wants in his Mercedes, go with him to concerts, the theatre, five-star restaurants

He feels he can never do enough for me, is afraid I’ll disappear without warning

He swears absolute fidelity, keeps me company every minute of my life

He gives me affection, shares his cat’s affection with me too

He takes me to his holiday home in Connecticut, his condo in Fort Lauderdale

Opens his bar to me, goes with me through the wonderful throes of alcohol

He takes me by the arm, I support him as he walks

He really loves me and I love him in return

He talks about his will, but I don’t want to hear about it

Head waiters smile at our entrance, but I ignore them

I’m travelling first class now, when I used to hang around street corners

Our friends are all worthwhile people, cultured and civilised

I help him to dress, he helps me to undress

He likes to see me asleep and naked in his bed, he watches over me

He washes me, nothing in the world gives him more pleasure, he thinks I have «a magnificent dick»

He knows how to thank me in his own way, opens the doors of the world to me

He’s the only person who thinks I’m someone

I love falling asleep in his arms

He’s my only father

In The Depths of the Marais

I’m a frog

I spend my time in the Marais

I jump everywhere between the Town Hall and the Seine

I go into disreputable places

I do disreputable things

I feel that no one is judging me

I wander into dark corners

Life is great in the Marais

Even if I’m green and sticky

And spend the night croaking

To the sound of barbaric music

My voice is still distinct

Someone finds me, warms me up

Sometimes I swallow flies

Before going back to jump everywhere for the rest of the night

I really like the Marais

Vaginaphobia

I see her coming a long way off, give her a big, embarrassed smile

Her eyes insist, but I’m still shy

She takes the initiative, buys me a glass of wine

And we talk about a thousand and one things, music, poetry, the eternal flame

She lives in the West End, carries me in off in her BMW, even opens the door for me

She invites me to a restaurant in a hotel in Baker Street

I’m the only one listening to the pianist playing Brahms in the background

She tells me she’s rich and successful, socially and otherwise

She becomes more insistent, I more uncomfortable

When she shows her legs I feel a wave of nausea

Finally she puts her hand on me, asks me up to her room

I go up with her, we make ourselves at home, I’ve had several glasses of wine

She undresses me slowly, so far so good

She puts my penis in her mouth, so far I’m still breathing

She puts her finger up my arse, then licks it, I’m very impressed

But then she insists that I take off her skirt

Where’s the emergency exit?

I take off her shirt, her tie, her waistcoat and her skirt

There she is naked in front of me, a big lump, her cunt prominent

My friend, it’s time to take flight!

Church Street

Oh Church Street, let me praise you to the skies

Blessed art thou among all streets

Holy, holy, holy Church Street

Live in the peace of God the Father, the love of the Holy Ghost

The sacred laws of union between two beings

This is the body of Christ, drink his murderous blood

Oh Church Street, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come

Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven

You give us our daily bread while leading us to the temptation of evil

But oh, Church Street, the fruit of thy womb is blest

What I’ve Found in the Holy Bible of the Hotel

(in The New American Standard Bible version, placed by The Gideons)

Taxi cab drivers are happy today

They make lots of money off the hookers and rock stars and people on welfare

Fuck politics and fuck you all

You better be real fast to keep up with me ass hole

I must love a woman in order to enjoy making love with her

Can we have sex after Church up in your apartment?

I will tell you all my business

I had the biggest you know what

And I just wanted to fuck you all, you lovely ladies

I want you to know that I miss your smiles

Have a nice day

So what fuck head

I can beat you all up you know

I can punch you real hard and one shot can drop you flat on the ground,

if you get too close or say something to me I don't like

You're all a bunch of fools, and I laugh to you all

I’m Your Leader

I head a new Anarchist movement, proclaiming the advent of a new Christ

In other words, me

I gather together those who are sickened by life

Those who can no longer bear the weight of rules and laws

Who no longer want to hear what they must or must not do

Who have had enough of living by the precepts of other people

I’m your leader

Through me we’ll make them listen to reason

We’ll destroy their way of thinking and ruling

We’ll rethink the world

I’ve come to this world to clean up the Capitalist system

I’ve come to this world to call everything into question

You’re going to hear us

You’re going to stop in your tracks

You’re going to think about what you’re doing

You’re going to see that I’m right

I’m Unreachable

Who am I? A name on an endless list

Where am I? In West 9, Fourteenth arrondissemnt,

88th Street uptown, Church Street downtown

How am I really living, what am I really saying?

How do you find me, talk to me, tell me your problems?

How to sit down with me and listen before you start judging me?

Words on a page, we know what they’re worth

I’m no one and everyone at the same time

I’m just a vague shape but I walk with you every day

Turn your head and you’ll see me

I’m your innate unconscious

I tell you what you want to hear

The life you’d like to live without ever admitting it, especially to other people

Perhaps you don’t dream enough

Achieving nothing fit to be recorded in the balance-sheet of a passionate life

Could you die today and say: everything’s been achieved,

I can die happy, I’ve done what I set out to do,

What I burned to do from the very core of my being?

Who am I? Who am I?

Do I really exist and where do I really want to be?

I’m Irresponsible

I can’t hold down a job

It’s impossible for me to sit still

I suck people’s blood till I’ve bled them dry

I always manage somehow to take a plane somewhere

I footle about all day

Look for affection on street corners

Spend all the money which has the misfortune to find its way into my pockets

I despise everybody without exception

I despise everything without exception

Life has no meaning for me

I celebrate death in my free time

Drink alcohol the way you drink water

Smoke something some countries forbid

Do worse than that, but I know when to shut up

I’m irresponsible

But I live life to the full

My Mea Culpa

Must we pay for our mistakes?

Can we be forgiven a life of misery?

Where do I go for a refund?

I want to take back this life which I don’t remember asking for

I’ve lost it in trying as best I could to make it liveable

Nothing works, I promise you

Always and everywhere unlucky

I pay all the time for the least of my actions

Will you forgive me the hell I’ve made of my life?

Will you understand it’s better than the hell you’ve prepared for me?

I was born sick, seriously so

I’m in no way responsible for my destiny

Couldn’t sit happily in my own skin

Nothing could have kept me alive if I’d had to work a nine to five day

Hear my will, while there’s still time

I leave you the guilt of my existence

Stuff it up your arse

My Devolution, My Revolution

The more I go forward, the more I get bogged down

The evolution of the human race must be following the same path

An evolution in reverse

Going in the opposite direction to the one it should normally take

But hang on a moment

Which direction should we be going in to make it evolution?

Up or down, where’s up, where’s down?

Can we help getting bogged down when everything directs us to death?

An evolution in reverse, if such it can be called, is still evolution

Evolution has so many implications, the getting of knowledge

Personal experiences unknown to those who think them evil

I know more than that about life, see much further

Don’t we have to descend into hell to find wisdom?

My devolution, my revolution

Throw Me Away After Use

I’m non-returnable, even if it’s against the law

Can’t be recycled, the machine wouldn’t know what to do with me

All I’m fit for is burial in some remote spot

Where I’ll be forgotten far from any organized society

I only knew how to lose myself every which way in its dregs

I thought I could reach the heights by going in by the back door

But I despised those heights too much

I’m worthless, I’m nothing

I reject as a matter of course whatever could make me valuable

Whatever could make something of me

My mind can’t accept any sort of label

I do talk, but no one ever listens to me

No one has ever listened to me

Because no one ever listens to anyone

All they’ve done is to watch me, interpret me from afar

My life is only just beginning but already I’ve drawn up a balance sheet

Have I lived too much in so short a time?

And what use is living too much, I’ve had nothing out of it

Sometimes someone takes me, swallows me, appreciates me for a fraction of a second

Then they’ve had enough, spit me out again

I’m worthless, I’m nothing

Life isn’t worth the effort of living

Step Into My Hell

Come on, come in and share my hell

I’m at home here in the warm

It’s comforting when it’s cold outside and in

Sorry there’s nothing left to eat, that’s one of the joys of my hell

It keeps me alert, seeing human misery quite clearly

There’s plenty to drink, though, a bottle of French wine tonight:

La Vieille Ferme, Côtes du Ventoux

My survival depends on drink more than on food

I’m going out tonight, come with me

We’ll listen to a rhythm wild enough to wake up your heart

Make it beat at the right speed to lift you outside the walls of your life

I’m going to meet someone who’ll show me a new universe

You too can share it

Hear life being discussed, people existing

Revealing all their secrets to complete strangers

Because I’m a complete stranger, more to my family than to all those unknowns that I meet

Step into my hell

Once you come to understand it, perhaps it won’t be hell any more

But you won’t come to understand it

Just as I won’t come to understand you

Must we for that reason try to wipe out one another?

There never was a war without loss of life

I’ve got nothing to lose, you’ve got nothing to gain

If there must be a fight, I’ll fight

If you want war, I’ll wage it

If I have to kill you, I’ll kill you

I’ve got nothing to lose, you’ve got nothing to gain

Step into my hell…

Come With Me and I’ll Show You the World

You’re so handsome, so young and not yet disillusioned with life

You admire me, think I’ve done everything you’ll never dare to do

Here’s Church Street, Woody’s, Boot’s, John, George and Henry

It’s not a bad beginning but let’s go further south

Here’s Greenwich Village, the Crow Bar, Splash, John, George and Henry

Have a cigarette, have a beer, we’ll go back in a taxi

Here’s Old Compton Street, Soho village, Popstarz, John, George and Henry

Smoke this joint, let that melt in your mouth, sniff this, undress

Here’s the Marais, the subway, the Queen, Jeannette, Georgette and Henrietta

There you are, now you know about the world

Don’t expect to find anyone better than me

Because you’ll only find everywhere John, George and Henry or various versions of them

Is it My Fault if I Don’t Get a Hard On?

How did we get to be so cold?

Slow and uninterested at first, then suddenly passionate

No communication, meetings arranged through a go-between

Me torturing myself all day because we’d said nothing about the night

Forget the candlelit dinner, romance and flowers

Was there any desire? What did you do to fan the flame?

We screwed each other without human warmth

Then we had to get drunk to do it

I do my best in the circumstances, three joints before bed, but to no effect

Two people in my bed at the same time, I don’t even recognise myself

But if the person I fancy decides to leave us together . . .

Then all I see in you is that first impression you gave me, how can you expect me to get a hard on?

Bring back the third person and maybe we’ll make it

You brought him back, we made it, but at what price?

You think you don’t excite me

You think only the love of your life excites me

I’ve introduced jealousy into your relationship

Destruction, that’s my passion

But it’s only with you I don’t get a hard on

It’s not my fault and it’s not down to drugs!

Flee, Flee, Flee!

Leave and go anywhere else

London, Paris, New York, Toronto

When everything’s going wrong

When people don’t understand each other

When you don’t look straight at me but glance to right or left

When your parents try to convince me I’ve got the wrong number so that I can’t reach you

When my social life is truly bankrupt because my studies take precedence

When shame, guilt and even nostalgia are killing me

Let’s sprinkle it all with whisky, Canadian Club, and make our sign of the cross

Flee, flee, flee!

As soon as anyone criticises me, no matter what for

Looking on me as less than nothing (which is entirely true)

Taking me for an idiot to be exploited all the way and back

Abusing me as much as they can and may, even within the law

You can trample all over me, spit in my face and finish me off altogether

I’ve still got the option of flight

Flee, flee, flee!

Once the brain stops responding to the body

Once my IQ goes up (against nature) by a notch

Once I start to act like an idiot, talking to myself or crying in the dark

My only solution, utter forgetfulness, complete renewal, rebirth

Flee, flee, flee!

I’m Going to Shoot Myself

I want to do it without causing trouble or sorrow

My family have long since forgotten me, how could they feel the impact of the shot?

I want to make sure that no one ever finds me

Spare myself a funeral, the fire and the urn

Leap into the ether and never come down again

Bury myself in the earth and never come up for air

Sink to the bottom of the sea and never resurface

Travel through infinite space without arriving anywhere

Become utter nothingness, with no remains in refrigerators or elsewhere

Burn up everything I’ve touched, even its own ashes

Be sublimated into energy which will lose itself among the stars

I’ve got to stop myself thinking, finish myself off for good, not half-heartedly

Stop all the torment and wild fantasies

Blow all the circuits of memory capable of retaining any token of my presence on earth

I have no pity for anyone, least of all for myself

Forgive me! I want nothing more than to live!

But living is impossible . . .

Your Flowers Smell Like Christ Decomposing!

You waited patiently for the deadly boring workday to come to an end

You walked quickly, at random, to wherever I might be

I was with someone else but willing to free myself for you

Doubtlessly thinking I was French

You’d bought red wine, baguettes and some weird, smelly blue cheese

Miserable cow, I’ve got nothing to do with France

France threw me out, I can’t legally live there

You see? I speak English now and I’m proud of it!

Where do I come from? Nowhere

You persisted, airing all the romantic ideas you’d amassed

You were wondering how to improve your behaviour, temperament, manners

Talk about love, complicated friendship, perhaps the start of a love affair, fidelity

You know very well I was stuck where I was

You didn’t even mention the marriage or the arrangements for divorce

Then, when you produced your flowers smelling like Christ decomposing, it was too much

Go on, pack up your goods and get out of my life

You’re So Sweet!

That’s what you said to me the first time I kissed your neck

I took you in my arms and you told me I was nice and sweet and all

Then you rejected me: You’re so sweet, but . . .

All the same, next day you learned more about me and we talked about your hometown, Seattle

You saw a sensitive soul, wearing his heart on his sleeve (old, outmoded English phrase)

A soul so pure and sweet that no one reading these lines could understand the paradox

That night you lit candles, put on some hackneyed classical music which everybody knows

I was hardly dressed but played the innocent who doesn’t know what effect he’s having

I went out for a moment but came back for a cigarette

You were dressed strangely for the night, very exciting

I came close to pouncing on you and raping you there and then

But I stopped myself, to be sure of being able to see you one more time

Then, when you threw me out, you made the mistake of giving me one last kiss for the night

At once I got a hard-on and we both got carried away

You asked me to put out the candles so as to hide your old body

You made love like someone rediscovering his joie de vivre, the happiness of existence

You gave me more warmth and energy than I would ever have thought possible

You confessed that the age difference between us had caused a psychological block

(But no, I’m of age, you won’t go to prison, don’t worry)

Thirty-one isn’t old, you know

You’re capable of such tenderness, such wonders

In fact you’re the one who’s so sweet and that’s unforgettable

I Go from One Extreme to the Other

As with everything in this world, there’s no happy medium

Everything goes right or everything goes wrong

And my reactions are extreme

Either I’m having such a good time that I could die of happiness

(Sometimes just watching the movement of a snail)

Or I want to die drowned in drink (sometimes just seeing a snail crushed at the side of the road)

I’ll draw down the moon for you or I’ll cut off your head and bury you

I’m on a strict diet or eating to bursting point like a pig

I’ll dance at the edge of the cliff but sometimes I need a darkened room, hermetically sealed

I insult people and lose all my friends or I shower them with more flowers than they can bear

I get through a task by working on it twenty-four hours a day or I do nothing at all

I’m an extremist

As with everything in this world, there’s no happy medium

Everything goes right or everything goes wrong

I am God

I am God

Creator of the Universe

There, I said it

I have nothing more to say