Cool if crookedly capped dapper, the sailors wind as were all the room in the world their way down the bazaar stricture. By day they go muggin' the mile with smiles like affable emissaries out of an Elvis picture. By night they take on a campy Capra-corn mash just before the Russell reel is loaded. The brutal dawn's nightcap is tipped to Pasolini.
The fog of war they say paves the way for their action, though their orders give cover to indulge sick satisfaction, at least through to their commission. These deeds are carried out as an investment bought in bellowing black & white with an aim to sell out in tortured technicolor.
No surface strafing can expose the underbelly of the beast buried in the misery of the razed rubble and dust. Paraded on the periphery, this principal is to be written off, hanged for posterity, or co-opted & reinvested in the theater coming just.
The fog of war they say paves the way for their action, though their orders give cover to indulge sick satisfaction, at least through to their commission. These deeds are carried out as an investment bought in bellowing black & white with an aim to sell out in tortured technicolor.
No surface strafing can expose the underbelly of the beast buried in the misery of the razed rubble and dust. Paraded on the periphery, this principal is to be written off, hanged for posterity, or co-opted & reinvested in the theater coming just.
Lenachstr. & Sonntagstr., Berlin-Friedrichshain - 1911/2017 (hover)
