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Venerea

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Venerea

St. Christopher

Moon the river
Let the cat have the sand in the hour glass
For the bright the future's looking bleak
As you make your bed
The three fates are weaving a rag-rug
And the fortune's dripping on the wheel

…and you hope Opportunity knocks
But she's got her arms cut off
Hard to hitch hike with you thumb up your asshole

Open wide your door
Take your foot from the floor
St. Christopher is grounded

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Oracle
When Croesus crossed the river
Did you chuckle at your advice?
As God would laugh
At the scriptural disinformation
And the birds I flip to the empty skies

Make your stake
You sure as hell must climb it
The only flush you'll get is in the loo
But play your hand
Though tomorrow's a house of tarot cards
That the wind is whistling through