Saturday, 15 October 2016

Svante No. 13 song


Put venison, smoked salmon on the table,
add caviar and lobster to the spoils!
When roast beef fat starts curling best it’s able,
Then all my mental juices seethe and boil.
My palate’s greed’s a stay-by
and my appetite’s uncouth
my fork’s a catapult with vibrant twangs
that fires off all the dainties
into my mouth
but nothing can allay my
                      worst hunger pangs.

We’re wallowing in wine and girls who’re frisky.
A tape recorder plays a cheerful tune.
We dance so close that pulse and mood get risky.
Our bodies squeeze so tight we almost swoon.
I’m partying and lay my
giddy head in some lap
while everyone around just shouts and bangs.
my soul can feel a twitching
my flesh too perhaps
but nothing can allay my
                      worst hunger pangs.

I drink and dance and whore just like a nutter.
Behaving like a rocket that has blown,
so from my pores great sparks begin to sputter
I’m exiled from my every shaking bone.
I had a short-lived heyday,
all my flesh has turned to flab,
so cups are always brimful in my hands.
Just she who isn’t present
or my death perhaps
just one might but allay my
                     worst hunger, my best hunger pangs

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