Antonin Artaud

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 peeling soul Scratch pictures on asylum walls Broken nails and matchsticks hypodermic hypodermic hypodermic RED FIX One man's poison another man's meat One man's agony another man's treat Artaud lived with his neck paced firmly in the noose Eyes black with pain, Limbs in cramps contorted The theatre and its double The void and the aborted THOSE INDIANS WANK ON HIS BONES (repeat) --- Antonin Artaud - Bauhaus