The King loves his Queen
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I'll rip you apart like a soft rock. You'll need a dozen buckets propped up on the sharp horizon to catch yourself in. We'll listen to Abba as we drive to the sea. You'll listen to the high notes while I'll sing along to the bass.
I'll see a hole through your bookcase turn green and drip. I'll kill Americans with my bible missiles of blue paper. You'll grant me a last wish on the banks of the Humber. You'll walk towards the trees and scare away the crows.
Today we took time to stare at the rips in your cardigan. You'll bleed like that forever and never have to listen to the rain. I'll buy you a house where the cuckoos kill.
I'll kill Germans with my boot oil and my stomach noises.
Just lately the ships have sunk into blackness and begun to glow in the mute depths. Just lately we have smelled the glue that keeps the doors wide open. Can we visit so many museums...can we hear the jelly household wandering.
I'll give you a pair of shoes to fit your stumps. The shortest season is our world.
I'll kill the English without wonder. I'll kill them in the ballroom with my forehead noises.
Flood us with pill popping days out to the sea where the carnival rusts over and snaps.
We'll take to the air when they see us there, in our overcoats and our hats.
I'm the liar and you are the comfy chairs. Watch us on TV as we carry out our tasks.
You'll bake a dirty photograph and send it, send it to someone else.
I'll climb the dusty tower block for a meal or two.
Get used to it? No, you never get used to it.