Syphilitic Maharajah

Syphilitic has the Maharajah gone

Round him lounge his oiled sin, terrified for it’s in them
Waxed mustache and swabbed discharge, at soiled silk he rips and claws

Lolling tongue in the Parsi’s Tower

Bloated yellow moon eyes
Soon the rasp of claws
Sluggish black sand flies
Want to crawl around inside

Down the hall, a sandstorm’s howl, something wicked, something foul
Draw the blade and hack away, if I must go then no one stays

Gleaming bones in the Parsi’s Tower

CHORUS

Sandstorm passes, hollow sun, the desert stretches on and on
Draw the shades and back away, if I must go then no one stays
if I must go then no one stays

 

 

 

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