Beggar Video (MV)

You are a modern man
You are a man of today
But you belong to all the beasts of yesterday
Drumming out emotion
With reference to thickness
To the ability to slide beneath these
Hot radio
Just slid there
Send a calendar to you father
Send a picture to your mother
Neither need ever know
That the one contains the other
A pathetic stew
A feeble home-brew
Heating meat from the bone
Gives you something to do
Chrome shysters
Apple-bobbing burgomeisters
The chemical composition of which
Is new
Moth or mosquito
Take me to Geppetto
Teach him of the errors
Of his son's embarrassing measures
A mythical figure
A comical snigger
Drawling out
Drawling out
Drawling it out
To be spelled
To be counted
To be taught the sweetness of decay
Born in the shallow heat of the human mind
Teach the poor, ailing father a few lessons in magnitude
Oh, the poor fellow
The simple distinction is beyond him
A simple tool enabling you to bang your head against a wall
A simple tribute to death, performed by the deed itself
A sure-fire way to argue with no-one
A remedy for decay
A rack for self-display
I'm not trying to defend it
I'm just trying to remember
No valleys
No sheep
Just a motorway
That charges straight through
And dumps you in the Irish Sea
Then hooks you back out
Under the same moon
Half a different side
A handful of stars thrown around somewhere up there
Bowels are reaching for something
There's an overstimulation
As if to make up for threatless absence
Skimming lines of cloud
Skirting rudely around
A face of platitude
A low line
A dim array
A bright transport so far it's as dull as my own
I throw another stump
Bounding from barriers
An acute desire for crudeness with a story
Defeating every kind of fire
It's true that this side of the far line has served me better
Serves me better now
Not as well as before
Those few years eloped somewhere
And though I've been away
It was me that got left behind somewhere
I'm disabled by the unnature that persists
In hammy, small, recent constructs
By the labour that failed
Not without some projection
Or hope
A shimmer through high bushes
The point of the arc of a house
Adding me down
Again
To a buried sum this time
I'm waiting under your soil
Through it I see the silver fringe of coniferous trees
Still afraid to specify
But getting there
I'm not the only studied one
Crippled aloud, I see your friend is not mad
Just alone
Alive
Suffering a shell
Like every other