A pasty faced man of the desert
Lived alone under the starry skies
Squeezed out the white drops of life by his own hand…
Grabbed the radio mic each night and screamed out the “Good News” to the empty, lonely, ether.
Zwitter! Zwitter!
“My religion is a new one, and a true one. We don’t promise anything less than life eternal.”
“Our family values are like the families of old:
We fuck our cousins and marry our neighbours.”
“It began with a dream, like all life has. "
“We gave up on reality a long time ago.”
It can get so cold on those nights out in the desert…
Sometimes Theo would wander out alone, looking for a place to have a slash. Staggering from the shack with a bottle of whisky in his hands he’d end up face first in the dirt. A place where all enlightenment begins.
Other nights he’d stand and sing with the mic in his hands. Songs brave and true!
With his pants round his ankles.
Alone, old and soon to die.
Theo Blues penultimate priest of the Church of Chicken a la Peyote.
He had no message. He had the truth.
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