Antonin Artaud Lyrics

Antonin Artaud lyrics

The young man held a gun to the head of God

Stick this holy cow

Put the audience in action

Let the slaughtered take a bow



The old man's words, white hot knives

Slicing through warm butter

The butter is the heart

The rancid pealing soul



Scratch pictures on asylum walls

Broken nails and matchsticks

Hypodermic, hypodermic, hypodermic

Red fix



One man's poison is another mans meat

One man's agony, another mans treat

Artaud living with his neck

Placed firmly in the noose



Eyes black with pain

Limbs in cramps, contorted

The theater and its double

The void and the aborted



Those Indians wank on his bones

Those Indians wank on his bones

Those Indians wank on his bones

...