Lyrics
I've seen a monkey trying hard to love a robot, yo
but all they ever do is fight to the death for your soul.
They're on a planet that I never meant to visit at all.
Got a sign on the wall — the decree: you don't go.
So come on, make your trespass, get your flesh fast
turned to dust by the death rays. These are the best days
of our lives: mad scientists with swirly eyes;
people with supernatural powers who live in disguise,
who live in the skies, swing between the sky scrapers,
capes all-a-drape in the words on the shiny papers
that the stapler turned to a booklet, or otherwise perfect bound
so when the glue dries in my old age, loose pages all around;
sound of the wind rustling; cowboy zombies ride,
lassoing up the carrion calves and a skeletal bride.
I'm telling you I don't study the phrenology no more
but I'm astounded by the size of the heads in the store.
And I score my pull. Full moons and the howls commence;
tear through a stack in a night with little reticence.
I'm eating venisons in the woods, get an axe to the dome.
Ken is in pieces behind me — I can still hear him groan.
I should have known from the warning encoded into the name of the place:
forbidden planet, in impermissible space.
And on the surface of the planet, insanity abounds.
Eternal beings shape my sleep and every waking sound
that I make is loud. "Shazam!" I'd say, just to startle you
(a geek ejaculation in between a wave and a particle).
Did a part of you just die just like Clay Loudermilk
shaving information out of a dog without a head? And now the silk
smoking jacket worn by the smartest kid on earth
[Back off, nerd! This library's my turf.] ...and give berth
to the brick hats from Ignatz that fly in posthumous volumes.
At once coeval and incompossible: all rooms
at all times, silver age and foil covers mingle.
Something eldritch in the aisle: soul of the man who filched a single
glance at the most forbidden object on the whole orb.
I hint not at quixotic wandering; take the whole tour.