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I haven't f**ked much with the past
But I've f**ked plenty with the future
Over the skin of silk are scars
From the splinters of stations
And walls I've caressed
A stage is like each bolt of wood
Like a log of Helen is my pleasure
I would measure the success of a night
By the way by the way by the amount of piss and seed
I could exude over the columns that nestled the P A
Some nights I'd surprise everybody by skipping off
With a skirt of green net sewed over
With flat metallic circles which dazzled and flashed
The lights were violet and white
I had an ornamental veil but I couldn't bear to use it
When my hair was cropped I craved covering
But now my hair itself is a veil
And the scalp inside is a scalp of
A crazy and sleepy Comanche
Lies beneath this netting of the skin
I wake up I am lying peacefully
I am lying peacefully and my knees are open to the sun
I desire him and he is absolutely ready to seize me
In heart I am a Moslem
In heart I am an American
In heart I am Moslem
In heart I'm an American artist
And I have no guilt
I seek pleasure
I seek the nerves under your skin
The narrow archway the layers
The scroll of ancient lettuce
We worship the flaw the belly the belly
The mole on the belly of an exquisite w***e
He spared the child and spoiled the rod
I have not sold myself to God
