Milk and Honey.

Milk and honey

In the valley of the dragons there were some sleeping wagons and the princess of the suitcase found a bean. It was a magic window on the cold side of her pillow that let her go on stepping through her dreams. Where the drivers were all racers that lived of whisky chasers, slipping round the corners in green parts. That looked like harry shearer that caught the light like splinter a silver merlin roaster, with a dart, he hit the twebble twenty, next the double 7, then he sent for the cavalry, a rolls of dell boys on toaster, a hanky from the postman, red spots on your umbrellas, candles on the river, a boat of gold made by the people, for the magic shiny people, the peopling the tower, peopling the tower the golden lunar ticking tower, that washes all your powder up the rain.

Soap of milk and honey. The vikings are all running. Through the splots that touch dimples on your skin. The axes they are throwing heimdalls beard is growing, the rain drops seeds are sowing thick and thin. Giving and a taking, truthfullness and faking, rowing boats dripple on your hairs, your little forest powers, spirit taking showers, makes many of us sing freed sing sing sing. In the oak beamed halls of valhalla. Another victory hour. Meat meat meat fires crackle spit bubble for the fight. How we the massive chopped off limbs and had it. We absolutely had it Mushrooms to the moon a fight a fight. We thought for hours after hours making patterns on all them flowers passing by. Thor, Odin and Loki, pokey pokey pokey. Rip mash shred until we die. Breathy levitating all at once recreating magic worlds in every single thrusting flex. The viking halls of valhalla are connected to our showers. The drippley rushing river is water fat drops dropping of meat crackling pools lapping up the heat. Way up close to the grill pig lips are splitting vrip vrip vrips ripping plopping plush and spit. Greasy dripping falls for seconds that seem like babels splooshing mix of white grey green acanopy, three monkeys sit sipping way below spit lines keep on slipping vrip vrip vrip drips a sitting see no, hear no, speak no, sun board tick tack toe, the flesh drops crackle on the foil the silver coated oven twinkle sit three amazon rain forest tizzle monkeys catching the dripping on their bread tongues row biro


Our boats the world of baked potatoes, and trees that turn into windows, the drips the drops the fatty spits, we get ourselfs togethor get into a lather, the rivers worlds immerse us like hands rubbing salt butter all over our skin, candle wax all over our bodies here togethor in the shower, little forest spirit power, is where we and many others start to sing.

Monets been sitting painting here for hours simply watching all them pretty flowers like clouds gently pass him by
Whilst all the vikings have been fighting the grass it gets so excited
when theres dead bodies everywhere its all right.

Haiti can hear us singing
in our showers we are singing
for all the different worlds you know you make up deep inside
so this ones for the showers
and your little forest spirit power
that keeps the fire burning oh so bright
the valkries are coming
you can hear them coming
singing in their chariots
to take you home
valkries in the shower
wet river dripping power
sends them warrior
sailing oh so bright
to the land of milk and honey
where there is no need for money
lather lather lather
salt flour butter water oil
its all right.

Are you a magic dumpling
are you a magic dumpling
ive been eaten on the outside
im inside