Category: Visual Arts

You always said I was out of control. Teach me hatred, then let me go… You didn’t care, no truth and no dare — Sunday Comics, blow everywhere. Now you’re so high, kiss all the guys, making me jealous, I wonder why…

Are you bringing a present for me? Something pleasantly pleasant for me? Then it’s Sunday Comics I’m waiting for, would you mind slipping it under the door? Zat you, Santa Claus?

It’s Christmas at ground zero, the Comics have run to ground. We can dodge debris while we trim the tree underneath the mushroom cloud!

Look out for the Scotland Yard, and here comes Yeltsin, KGB. Yes I haven’t got a baseball bat. Korea’s got its problems too; Kabila, he don’t like, Mobuto; and the Comics made friends with Sunday

You see, I have been misplaced. I have been mislaid like a covetous dog that you can’t just leave in your home.Yeah, I need a new body, I need a new body; I can’t stay out too long.

All my life I’ve been holding on. It’s been crazy but still, I’m stronger. Stronger. All my life I’ve been reading on the Sunday Comics. But still, I’m stronger.Stronger.

Infinite possibility. It’s closer than you think. Everything you could ever want, all the sparkling desires of your heart. Just close your eyes. Imagine them here. Sun. Day. Comics.

First to fall over when the atmosphere is less than perfect. Your sensibilities are shaken by the slightest defect. You live you life like a canary in a coalmine. You get to Sunday, read the comics and then drink wine.

I can still find things to laugh about today, but tomorrow makes me cry. And I still want the Sunday Comics, even though it’s the end of the world.

All my friends tell me something is gettin’ together, I got a beard that would disappear if I’m dressed in leather. Now let me tell you about my baby, she was born readin’ Sunday Comics, sittin’ in the jailhouse trying to learn some good manners.