The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.

Monday, 11 July 2011

Beaver

Well it was down in smart old Texas where the cactus grew so thin,
That I met an hornery man who wore a beard upon his chin.
He said he didn't eat no meat but beaver on a dish
He said he would be eating beaver as that was his foremost wish.
Gone eating beaver
beaver all the time
I like the taste of beaver
'Cos it sure is divine

4 comments:

CHM said...

hahaha only you CJ.
well I got a go texas cause i can't see no cactus ...
love it

Russell 'C.J.' Duffy said...

Zappaesque!

jbkrost said...

is it dinner time yet?

manina31 said...

u make a lot of little animals
very happy..