The Hill Dwellers

Way back past the realm of pain. Back where there's never any pain And the rain falls gently on the town And over the heads of all of us And in the labyrinth of streams beneath the Quiet unearthly presence of Nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hills around Repitles abounding Fossils, caves, cool air heights Each house repeats a mold Windows rolled A beast car locked in a against morning. All now sleeping Rugs silent, mirrors vacant, Dust blind under the beds of lawful couples Wound in sheets And daughters, smug with semen Eyes in their nipples Wait! There's been a slaughter here Don't stop to speak or look around Your gloves and fan are on the ground We're getting out of town We're going on the run And your the one I want to come!