An Ode To Pain

You just drink to get drunk to dance
And you just dance to have a brief taste of myth
You don't shave sometimes to feel criminal
And when you do you feel exceptionally last century
The music you listen to was written by a man with woolly hair
His cock was large and his genius was broad
He found he could run fast when the rock fences were falling
As you found were decidedly slow
But the punches and the kicks felt alright
Something to write to Frederico about
An ode to pain perhaps, an ode to Sadism
And where will the return address be?
What land, city, bridge?
Are you to dwell in the orchard all your life
Pissing against the same trees as the other artists?
Sleeping on top of the shadows, trying to slow the light
Did you ever hear the myth of the Frenchman and the sailor?
The Sailor fucked the Frenchman upon a ship that was carrying peaches
From America to the port of Lamoux
The more they fucked the more peaches were destroyed
Until by the time they were hit by the light of the Lamoux lighthouse
The only peaches left were the buttocks of the Frenchman
And even they were a little bruised
The sailor simply took the frenchman into the city
And sold him as a Rosemary boy
Making much more than any peaches would
You've stopped listening
Sex and peaches were never quite your thing?
Or is it Lamoux that brings back memories that sting?
I dribble a little when I hear the name of the city
Think of nipples that are the colour of roses stolen from berlin
Like the dancers and the wine
I want to trace the axis of the moon
With the curve of the embrace
Chasing it with the contemplation of a man on horseback
It's a broad smile and a thought that stings that takes me home
Yet I don't care
I will choke in  my sleep on dreams of my youth
Before you will get the better of me
I am the Sailor, you are the Frenchman.