Oi Death
what is this,
the room is
cold
this was foretold
I am death
I am the shadow on your wall
I am that which comes all days
before the fall
oi, death, oi, death
oi, death, oi death
lead us out of Eastern Europe,
just like Moses
lead us out before the camp gate
slams and closes
because even after war,
the Polish mobs
are at your door –
Jews have died,
but only one was crucified
I am death,
I will see that your
widow cries –
Let your children watch you die
before your eyes,
stop your heart before you can
say your goodbyes –
my gullet seizes,
breath turns cold,
my bones are brittle
come here mother,
take a towel,
and wipe my
spittle.
Ich ver alt ich ver alt
und der pupik wird mir kalt
ich ver alt
und der pupik wird mire kalt
oi death oi death
mark my gravestone
with these words,
to see me through:
“look, here lies,
among the flies, another
Jew” –
and kick some dirt and
run from this whole
graveside scene,
‘cause only goyim worry that
their grave’s kept
clean –
Flakowitz in Love
I’m in a movie theater
A white screen-
And so begins
with violins
a Coney Island
dream
The scene is after war
With love in reach –
Trailing shots of
Busy city spots –
Than:
Brooklyn at the
beach
The salt breeze,
The sand, the foam
The waves,
and boardwalk babes
who
tan alone
On the boardwalk:
Fun house mirrors,
Barkers, Drifter shtarkers,
cruising queers –
Everyone is hiding
in the open air.
the cops only make stops
to feel the wind in their hair.
There is a couple
walking, starry-eyed
Brooklyn drifters, romance grifters,
Side by side
The camera zooms in –
He’s close, and whispers discretely,
She’s flattered,
the camera pulls back,
seagulls are scattered,
and she smiles
sweetly
I cringe and sink
Into my seat-
I know these two,
a Bensonhurst and a
Brownsville Jew,
Mad from the heat
I stand and
Yell at the screen
“lady, flee the seduction of the sea -
he’s nothing like he
seems
“This will have a
Sorry end,
with miseries endless
A lonely child , lost and wild -
And completely friendless- “
Suburban Jews
Who are they,
suburban Jews?
Obsessed with politics
And the latest news?
Where do they live,
Suburban Jews?
No New York –
Just Bloomfield blues
Christmas pageant
And an Easter egg hunt –
A crucifix and
a virgin –
a hall monitor
and an angry lunch lady –
a principle whose
a virgin
where are they?
Suburban Jews,
Smoking pot and
Drinkin’ booze?
What have they become,
These Jews in the suburbs?
Without faith -
They don’t pray -
They drive the car on Saturday!–
They don’t wear phylacteries–
They use menorahs made in factories
Tfillin – tfillin – tfillin!
Lord willin’-
Oh Jews –
Why have you forsaken me?
Who are they, suburban Jews –
Just Bloomfield blues –
And no New York –
Suburban Jews are eating pork!
In the Old Stetl (Where I was Born)
Down where the Cossacks
scream
Shiksas bathing in the village
stream
oy, life is just a Jew-boy’s
in the old stetl where I was born
children playing in the Russian
air
the moil smiles because business is good
everywhere
trying to circumcise that old grey
mare,
Taxman comes, I smile and
say
“what do you have for me today?”
He says, “Every Jew is gonna have to pay and pay”
I just laugh and dance away…
So I go home and count my money
Cash is the Jew’s milk and honey
Smiling gold teeth, for life is sunny
In the old stetl where I was born
Here some news, a Bolshevik war?
Hey, that’s what the goyim are for.
I’m stayin’ here to read my book
in Bialystock, by the babbling brook -
Shabbas dovening, the cantor sighs,
Shiksa sweethearts with milky white thighs
The czar decrees, another Jew dies
In the old stelt where I was born
Still, you won’t find a single complaint
Is you is, or mamala, or is you ain’t?
Nobody's perfect and no Jew’s a saint
Goyishe World
Oh, oh
goyishe world,
please let me be
goyishe world...
If you think that I'm not right,
than please just let me sleep the night,
mama's gone,
sometimes when I drift asleep
I dream of a wall where widows weep,
goyishe world
oh, oh.
please let me in,
'goyishe world...
is there something that I lack?
go, burn that cross that's on my back!
oh,
Yeshiva boy,
what you doin' uptown?
Yeshiva boy...
going home for Pesach prayers
running the gauntlet of Christian stares
taking a beating, it's a small price
to pay for he death of Christ -
oh, oh
I'm in hell,
would it make you feel better to see
me spit on a phylactery?
revenge is sweet,
just because we killed your lord,
hey it was the weekend, and we were bored!
Babel's dead,
and so am I -
tie my had and bind my feet,
Jewish blood is moist and sweet,
I’m Not Nico
I’m not Nico
She can’t speak right now
She is biking in Ibiza
People ask me
What is Nico like
I say “Nico rides a bike.”
Nico said,
Life is not so sweet
Fellini saw but could not hear her
Fairest skin
Nazi kin
Curse the blond hair in the mirror
Nico Told me
She can’t sleep with Jews
There is just too much to lose
Pace the stage
It’s a cage
Warhol saw but could not hear her
Nico says,
“leave me a alone –
sad is the land that needs a mirror.”
Factory nights,
Needle flights -
She’s a prisoner in her own skin –
Junker son,
Loves no one
But Delon is not his kin
But I’m not Nico
She sees death coming nearer –
Nico says
Reality is ok –
but her dreams are so much clearer
Blood on the Mountain
When the sun goes down
I can hear his last sighs
through the cold, heavy mist
and the hard winter skies
it was fated we meet
from the day he was born,
his cries heard in the street
as from the womb he was torn
I knew we would love
from when I was a child
'twas the sound of his voice,
left me sad but beguiled
when the sun goes down
and I remember his death,
just the thought of his love
helps me catch my next breath
and though I look at his eyes
in that old picture frame
all memory soon dies
to return whence it came
'twas the last night we spent
in our unwedded bliss,
as I watched him asleep
and touched his brow with a kiss
as he dreamed of our love and
the touch of my breast
I leaned o'er the bed and
drove the knife in his chest
as that night flew away
I let my memories flood -
and lay down beside him
to be
cleansed by his blood
'twas no more I would flee
at the sight of his hand.
'twas no more I would share
any bed with a man
but when at last my night falls
and I face death's dark door
I will run through the flames
just to see him once more
Leni
Leni,
Oh Leni
Basking in the shadow of the Fuhrer’s smile
Living a murderer’s exile -
How many bastard Nazi children can you sire
Warmed by the flames of the Reichstag fire?
Celebrity becomes you blond goddess of love
Kissing Jewish children goodbye beneath the sign of the dove
My nights are filled with dreams of your cold, cold breath
As I sigh in the fumes of death
The gypsy graves are mossy and still
Dead memory of the triumph of the will
Nazi women living behind closed doors
Jewish women living as Nazi whores
Dark is the Ground,
Cold is the Night
Dark is the ground
And cold is the night –
Only the sound of
The prophets in flight
Thick is the air with
The cold smell of death
Gravediggers wait for
His last labored breath
No one has risen –
The blind have no sight
The starving have starved and
the mute cannot talk
the waters haven’t parted and
the crippled can’t walk
Where’s Lou Reed?
Candy’s in the back room
Giving head and shooting speed –
Comes out, eyes twitching in the light, and asks,
I’m in the kitchen
Spiking all the chicken feed –
Suddenly I hear a voice, asks:
“Where’s Lou Reed?”
Satellite baby –
Rhymes with maybe
Delmore Schwartz –
Of course –
Narcissus in rags,
New York fags,
uncut skag -
remorse…
and the white girls go: Lou Lou Lou Lou Lou Lou Lou Lou
Lou Lou Lou Lou Lou Lou Lou Lou
Valerie’s not shootin blanks
Warhol’s colors start to bleed
Factory is closing down –
So where’s Lou Reed?
Lester Bangs is in the parlor
Reading tales of Margaret Mead
Hunched against the window sill -
So where’s Lou reed?
Songs about sister –
Has he kissed her?
Buy, ya know,
Who cares?
Tracks of his tears,
Lunch with queers,
Electric shears
Poetic airs -
Dinners with Bowie
Evening at the theater – Franny and Zoey
Warhol paints
a can -
What’s up doc?
Electric shock
Waiting for
some man
Lou is talking now with Burroughs
Burroughs thinks it’s Patty Smith
Watch his brow – how deep it furrows –
Lou is on a real thin wire
Sometimes he gets really tee’d -
Even he’s asking the question-
Syracuse mixers,
Sex with shixas,
Coulda been
a CPA –
Some liked Ike
But Nico’s bike
Washed it all
away
Shoot Me Up With Your Love (Theme for Johnny Thunders)
I put the needle
in my vein
It give me a feeling
I can’t explain
Especially when it
hits my brain –
Baby shoot me up with your love –
Sometimes when
I’m half asleep
I put the needle in
So deep
It’s a feeling I can keep –
Baby shoot me up with your love
On days when it’s
Cold and gray
I don’t have to hide away
Not if my needle
Has its say –
Sittin’ on my
hotel bed
Breathing’s slow –
Can’t feel my head –
Now wonder, baby –
I’m cold and dead!
In a Lonely Place
I cannot see your face
Here in a lonely place
There are things time cannot erase
Even in this lonely place
I feel your cold embrace
Here in this lonely place
Lee Marvin scalded Gloria Graham’s face
But not in a Lonely Place
Lonesome and Dead
I took a walk last night to look at the stars
To breathe the cold night air, the exhaust from old cars
And later, sleepless and cold as I lay in my bed
I thought I might as well face it, I’m lonesome and dead
I had a dream where I saw the whole past
Every dead relative, united at last
And as each one walked up to me, they shook my hand and said:
“It’s really nice to see you son, but you’re lonesome and dead.”
I came home, she was packing everything she owns
If her love was a bank, she was calling in her loans –
And as she kissed me goodbye she licked my ear and said:
“You know I love you honey but you’re lonesome and dead.”
I guess it’s just life, no one knows that you’re there
You’re small and invisible, transparent as air –
When I walk down the street, no one even turns their head,
Sometimes I wonder if I’m lonesome and dead
It may be my time, the light’s starting to dim –
I’m in deep water, and I can’t swim –
And as things turn to black, I remember the last thing she said:
“You know I love you honey, but you’re lonesome and dead
Failure
Is the face in the mirror
Is reality brought nearer
I’m listening to
Peaches and Regalia
Drowning out the sounds
Of my own failure
Failure…
Ulysses
Roamed the world with his sailors
Just to return
To the same old failures
Is the look in your eyes
is the sound of your sighs,
failure...