The harmonic man puts on a cap
Of top music chars and soiled bones
His moustache is dollar-greened and straight,
His speckled body's in stained glass robes.
He steps upon the reveled stage,
CHewing nicotine braille as he cues the spotlight
The audience swarms to the front and gawk,
They never miss his show at midnight.
His rhythmic proportioned body emits a purr,
A coo like a palpitating heart in a barrel.
The theatre's phlegmatic with the mumble of freeways
The lights dim, and they begin to howl,
"Oh, Mr. Harmonic, we are your faithful rat skulls!
We dine on the brittle vomit you call truth
Completely immerse in the grave,
Astounded by the tales of your youth!"
The man throws a morose glare into the air,
And they paw their way to his view
Hie dreams that he could be someone else, somewhere else,
But he makes the best of it, so he croons,
"Girls, sin!
Boys, grin!
Gather around and hear a fantastic tale
Of war!
And love!
And how misery perpetuates and stays in homes, frail!
"The sun cascades and gropes his window,
And greets the poor boy with a kiss of piled flesh.
His wrist are shackled with crimson rainbows
The color of his eyes are the same as failed fights.
Her face looks like a used-up map
Which writhes at the taste of a swelling man
And as you, my faithful crowed, scream and clap,
Realize that they now sit in the back of a van."
Mr. Harmonic spins a story of lies and lust,
Accompanied by an orchestra of wails
He makes a spectacle using the blood of lovers
And let's out a sigh, dims the lights, and it begins to hail.
Horror! Butcher!
Head wounds flow like a cracked beehive
Perverse! Bloodlust!
Razors cut0cut through your diary-skin
ON which you parade all your past affairs like a badge of attentive shame
And you drown gasping for more tales of woe.
M.r Harmonic quenches you all, and
You're left in a dim theatre,
Lifeless, soul-less, and smiling.
Oh, Mr. Harmonic, you've done it again!
Of top music chars and soiled bones
His moustache is dollar-greened and straight,
His speckled body's in stained glass robes.
He steps upon the reveled stage,
CHewing nicotine braille as he cues the spotlight
The audience swarms to the front and gawk,
They never miss his show at midnight.
His rhythmic proportioned body emits a purr,
A coo like a palpitating heart in a barrel.
The theatre's phlegmatic with the mumble of freeways
The lights dim, and they begin to howl,
"Oh, Mr. Harmonic, we are your faithful rat skulls!
We dine on the brittle vomit you call truth
Completely immerse in the grave,
Astounded by the tales of your youth!"
The man throws a morose glare into the air,
And they paw their way to his view
Hie dreams that he could be someone else, somewhere else,
But he makes the best of it, so he croons,
"Girls, sin!
Boys, grin!
Gather around and hear a fantastic tale
Of war!
And love!
And how misery perpetuates and stays in homes, frail!
"The sun cascades and gropes his window,
And greets the poor boy with a kiss of piled flesh.
His wrist are shackled with crimson rainbows
The color of his eyes are the same as failed fights.
Her face looks like a used-up map
Which writhes at the taste of a swelling man
And as you, my faithful crowed, scream and clap,
Realize that they now sit in the back of a van."
Mr. Harmonic spins a story of lies and lust,
Accompanied by an orchestra of wails
He makes a spectacle using the blood of lovers
And let's out a sigh, dims the lights, and it begins to hail.
Horror! Butcher!
Head wounds flow like a cracked beehive
Perverse! Bloodlust!
Razors cut0cut through your diary-skin
ON which you parade all your past affairs like a badge of attentive shame
And you drown gasping for more tales of woe.
M.r Harmonic quenches you all, and
You're left in a dim theatre,
Lifeless, soul-less, and smiling.
Oh, Mr. Harmonic, you've done it again!
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