Part one: "Evenings with mother tend to be discouraging. I always end up bruised. Evenings with father frighten me. All the animals will come to see where I've been abused. With bars of fragile bone and teeth I enclose a hundred birds and beasts. We sway and swoon. At night they howl and scream at me! They would all much rather be set free beneath the dull, throbbing light of a blue-black moon."
Part two: "One upon my thigh has wings! He flies and sings! His face is purple! Watch me twist my mouth in pain; I've sat upon some beast again! Twice since Thursday, I've sat bleeding out upon the back step, reading. Apparently I have the only broken-skin menagerie.
“Eyes and gills distinguish certain crimson epidermal oceans. Sunlight on my skin is dim and withered; in my zoo it's night!
“There's a flock upon my back, their beaks are long and cruel and black! They preen and flap with ruined capillaries; yes, there's blood, in fact. One around my throat makes sound. He screams against gray, early morning. Red and bending, never ending... He's some sort of snake, I've found.
“And eight legged toads and lambies in rows and pink-kitten circles of lilies and roses... An ant-farm awry under lavender skies... all of this smeared on my thin-beaten skin!”
Track Name: In Defense Of A Threepenny Purse
Gas lamp gone, I stumble, sneeze, the dust in darkness makes me wheeze and fidgets in my fingers flipping files that start with “f” I’ll set alight.
Ha’penny gone from a threepenny purse!
No room for rum when taxes come first!
Alfreds and Davids and titles and writs!
Yanked from their holes and rendered to bits!
I’ll burn the Lord Mayor asleep in his bed
If he’s dreaming my name as a number, instead!
I’m well done with fines; I’ll no longer be traced!
My own, and all “f’s” in town hall are erased!
Mrs. Fisk is now a maiden. Mary Fenton not deceased. And Arthur Fuller’s fortune’s bound for probate lest he file a brand new will.
Sunlight wipes the sleep from cobblestones. I tumble ditchwards, laughing. Next time taxes come around, I’ll tip my hat and drink three penn’orth rum.
Track Name: Midsummer William
We laugh when midsummer’s here, we flit beneath the green leaves of the deep, dark forest without fear. We step upon the brown and frowning rocks, for William’s near!
Me and she are holding hands. To kiss among the trees we linger…
Me and she hear William and his laughter’s bright orange salamanders…
Bright orange salamanders…
We unfurl at Williamsound, the nutmeg breath of sleeping squirrels and harvest mouse blinks are his words. He squeezes shipwreck tales past smiling sap and barkskin scales.
We are found, the light is bound away! His hands have clearly shown the tracks of beetles not yet grown! He turns his face of moss and lichen layers not yet lost…
Track Name: Horse On The Moor
"My love liked to ride, so I'm giving her a horse's head. The rest is made of wood, but it hardly matters, 'cause she's dead! My love took her tea from a light-blue china service, and so that got buried first so she could calm herself in case of nervousness.”
"My love wore her hair in a darling mess of golden braids... To help her under there, I'm sending down one of her maids. And my love had an eye for cameos and feathers for lapels. I don't have those, but I have a lot of pretty silver bells."
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