M.A. Littler – Love Is An Ancient Disease

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The Lost Colony

I carry in me the seed of the savage
The desolation of our past
I live in a land of disease and murder
I will give you what I have
Then perish

Here’s to the Lost Colony
To the crazies
From the mountains
And swamps
From back alleys
And border towns

Here’s to isolation
To madness
And to never having had a chance

Here’s to the numb
The dumb
The holy
And the profane
Here’s to old names
From old worlds
Here’s to the inbred
Who didn’t know better

Here’s to railroad tracks
And roadkill
Here’s to the filth
The fury
And the written word

O the night it will trick you
But the day won’t care
Out here
All we have is imagination

I’d rather be a peasant than a lord
A rag sucking toad
In the primeval swamp

I shall live in terror
I shall spread terror
And retreat under wild cherry trees
And under sage bushes

We are the creator’s excrement
Forced to live in the flesh
Degraded prisoners of a mad divine plan
No one understands

Destined to hunger
To suffer
To maim
To kill

And to love