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lirik lagu david moore - mental cases

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who are these? why sit they here in twilight?
wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows
drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish
baring t~~th that leer like skulls’ tongues wicked?
stroke on stroke of pain,—but what slow panic
gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?
ever from their hair and through their hand palms
misery swelters. surely we have perished
sleeping, and walk h~ll; but who these h~llish?

—these are men whose minds the dead have ravished
memory fingers in their hair of murders
multitudinous murders they once witnessed
wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander
treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter
always they must see these things and hear them
batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles
carnage incomparable and human squander
rucked too thick for these men’s extrication

therefore still their eyeb~lls shrink tormented
back into their brains, because on their sense
sunlight seems a bloodsmear; night comes blood~black;
dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh
—thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous
awful falseness of set~smiling corpses
—thus their hands are plucking at each other;
picking at the rope~knouts of their scourging;
sn~tching after us who smote them, brother
pawing us who dealt them war and madness


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