Lyrics Apocalypse - William S. Burroughs
APOCALYPSE!
Mariners
sailing
close
to
the
shores
of
Tuscany
heard
a
Voice
cry
out
from
the
hills,
the
trees,
and
the
sky:
"
The
Great
God
Pan
is
dead!"
Pan,
God
of
Panic:
The
sudden
awareness
that
everything
is
alive
and
significant.
The
date
was
December
25,
1 A.
But
Pan
lives
on
in
the
realm
of
the
Imagination,
in
writing,
and
painting,
and
music.
Look
at
Van
Gogh's
sunflowers,
Writhing
with
portentous
life;
Listen
to
the
Pipes
of
Pan
in
Joujouka.
Now
Pan
is
neutralized,
Framed
in
museums,
entombed
in
books,
relegated
to
folklore.
But
art
is
spilling
out
of
its
frames
into
subway
graffiti.
Will
it
stop
there?
Consider
an
apocalyptic
statement:
"
Nothing
is
true.
Everything
is
permitted,
" Hassan
i
Sabbah,
the
Old
Man
of
the
Mountain.
Not
to
be
interpreted
as
an
invitation
to
all
manner
of
unrestrained
And
destructive
behavior;
That
would
be
a
minor
episode,
which
would
run
its
course.
Everything
is
permitted
because
nothing
is
true.
It
is
all
make-believe,
illusion,
dream,
art.
When
art
leaves
the
frame
and
the
written
word
leaves
the
page--not
Merely
the
physical
frame
and
page,
But
the
frames
and
pages
of
assigned
categories--a
basic
Disruption
of
reality
itself
occurs:
the
literal
realization
of
art.
Success
will
write
Apocalypse
across
the
sky.
The
artist
aims
for
a
miracle.
The
painter
wills
his
pictures
to
move
off
the
canvas
with
a
separate
Life,
movement
outside
of
the
picture,
And
one
rent
in
the
fabric
is
all
it
Takes
for
pandemonium
to
sluice
through.
Last
act,
the
End,
this
is
where
we
all
came
in.
The
final
Apocalypse
is
when
every
man
sees
what
he
Sees,
feels
what
he
feels,
and
hears
what
he
hears.
The
creatures
of
all
your
dreams
and
nightmares
are
right
Here,
right
now,
solid
as
they
ever
were
or
ever
will
be.
Electric
vitality
of
careening
subways
Faster
faster
faster
stations
flash
by
in
a
blur.
Pan
God
of
Panic,
whips
screaming
crowds,
As
millions
of
faces
look
up
at
the
torn
sky.
OFF
THE
TRACK!
OFF
THE
TRACK!
The
planet
is
pulling
loose
from
its
moorings,
careening
into
space,
Spilling
cities
and
mountains
and
seas
into
the
Void,
Spinning
faster
and
faster
as
days
And
nights
flash
by
like
subway
stations.
Iron
penis
chimneys
ejaculate
blue
sparks
in
a
reek
of
ozone.
Tunnels
crunch
down
teeth
of
concrete
And
steel,
flattening
cars
like
beer
cans.
Graffiti
eats
through
glass
and
steel
like
acid,
Races
across
the
sky
in
tornados
of
flaming
colors.
Cherry-pickers
with
satin
brushes
big
as
a
door
inch
through
Wall
Street,
leaving
a
vast
souvenir
postcard
of
the
Grand
Canyon.
Water
trucks
slosh
out
paint.
Outlaw
painters
armed
with
paint
Pistols
paint
everything
and
everyone
in
reach.
Survival
Artists,
paint
cans
strapped
to
their
backs,
Grenades
at
their
belts,
paint
anything
and
anybody
within
range.
Skywriters
dogfight,
collide
and
explode
in
paint.
Telephone
poles
dance
electric
jigs
in
swirling,
crackling
wires.
Neon
explosions
and
tornados
flash
through
ruined
cities.
Volcanoes
spew
molten
colors
as
the
earths
Crust
buckles
and
splinters
into
jigsaw
pieces.
Household
appliances
revolt!
Washing
machines
snatch
clothes
from
the
guests.
Bellowing
Hoovers
suck
off
makeup
and
wigs
and
false
teeth.
Electric
toothbrushes
leap
into
screaming
Mouths,
as
clothes
dryers
turn
gardens
into
dust
bowls.
Garden
tools
whiz
through
lawn
parties
impaling
the
guests,
Who
are
hacked
to
fertilizer
by
industrious
Japanese
hatchets.
Loathsome,
misshapen,
bulbous
plants
spring
from
their
bones,
Covering
golf
courses,
swimming
pools,
Country
clubs,
and
tasteful
dwellings.
At
my
back
– faster
and
faster
– I
always
hear
hurry
up!
Energy
ground
down
into.
Please
its
time
closing.
Sidewalks
and
streets
by
billions
of
feet
and
tires
Erupt
from
manholes
and
tunnels
break
out
with
volcanic
force.
Let
it
come
down!
Careening
subways
faster
and
faster
stations
blur
by.
Pan
whips
screaming
crowds
with
flaming
pipes.
Millions
of
faces
look
up
at
the
torn
sky.
OFF
THE
TRACK!
OFF
THE
TRACK!
The
planet
is
pulling
loose
from
its
moorings,
Careening
off
into
space
spilling
cities
and
Mountains
and
seas
into
the
Void
faster
and
faster.
Skyscrapers
scrape
rents
of
blue
and
white
paint
from
the
sky.
The
rivers
swirl
with
color.
Nitrous
ochres
and
reds
eat
through
the
bridges,
Falling
into
the
rivers
splashing
colors
Across
warehouses
and
piers
and
roads
and
buildings.
AMOK
art
floods
inorganic
molds,
stirring
passion
of
metal
and
glass,
Steel
girders
writhing
in
mineral
lusts
burst
from
their
concrete
Covers,
walls
of
glass
melt
and
burn
With
madness
in
a
billion
crazed
eyes.
Bridges
buck
cars
and
trucks
into
the
rivers.
The
sidewalks
run
ahead
faster
and
faster,
Energy
ground
down
into
sidewalks
and
streets
by
billions
of
feet
and
Tires
erupts
from
manholes
and
Tunnels,
breaks
out
with
volcanic
force.
LET
IT
COME
DOWN!
Caught
in
New
York
beneath
the
animals
of
The
village,
the
Piper
pulled
down
the
sky!
![William S. Burroughs - Dead City Radio](https://pic.Lyrhub.com/img/1/v/c/3/s85iqj3cv1.jpg)
1 William's Welcome (What Are You Here For?)
2 A Thanksgiving Prayer
3 Naked Lunch Excerpts (You Got Any Eggs For Fats?) / Dinner Conversation (The Snakes)
4 Ah Pook The Destroyer / Brian Gysin's All Purpose Bedtime Story
5 After-Dinner Conversation (An Atrocious Conceit) / Where He Was Going
6 Kill The Badger!
7 A New Standard By Which To Measure Infamy
8 The Sermon On The Mount 1 (Wsb Reads The Good Book)
9 No More Stalins No More Hitlers
10 The Sermon On The Mount 2
11 Scandal At The Jungle Hiltons
12 The Sermon On The Mount 3
13 Love Your Enemies
14 Dr. Benway's House
15 Apocalypse
16 The Lord's Prayer
17 Ich Bin Von Kopf Bis Fuss Auf Liebe Eingestellt (Falling In Love Again)
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