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The Slaughterhouse 5
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Alban B. Clay the Artisté
'Meet Alban B. Clay the Artisté'
'Boy, then smite us with your paint roller, uh.
Have that third-rater tongue
leave us all unsung '
'Dead-beat disco-thralls
Lovesick pin-up dolls
Infants in toilet bowls
My own cattish cunt
Fat ladies' battle grunt
Strawberry-nurses on hunt
Ornamental teens
Transcendental sleep-aid-queens
Fun sucking fun-machines
How about that? Do you, do you like it?
Meet Alban B. Clay the Artisté'
'Boy, then smite us with your paint roller
Oh have that third-rater tongue
leave us all unsung'
'Despots on call
Butchers on parole
Pervert on pedestal
A sweet-talker's fate
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Sleepwalkers' escapade
Meat-stalkers on parade
That's so Claude Monet
Love bespattered alleyways
Bloodstains on somebody's face
How about that? Do you, do you, do, you like it?
Meet Alban B. Clay the Artisté'
'I really like what you're saying – I think it's magnificently awesome
Oh the creative genius you are – and so lovely'
'Well boy… If one wants to become one of us
It can't really be done but as thus;'
'One must dive/drive/hike into the hell of which he sings/thinks/inks
Must strife to give up his Belle - his cupid/stupid/suited wings.
And jive on poor, sore feet as well, limbo his cist/bimbo his tryst
Must dive right into the hell of Alban. B. Clay the artisté.'
'One must dive/drive/hike into hell of which he sings/thinks/inks
Must strife to kill of his Belle, his cupid/stupid/suited wings.
First, then rise, to feed people quell, to feed them bliss/great
them pissed
They'll drink off the well, that's Alban B. Clay the artistés'
'I must strife to, dive into and jive as well. Oh and honey, well you be that bell. – I must strife to, then rise up and them quell, oh and honey well, oh and honey: Suitable as hell'
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