Ricardo Echeverria - Lolling Lotus Eaters lyrics

The tea is still. On a hanging leaf, blown by the wind, a thought hammocks. A yawning boy lying by a clear stream dreams of a hurried man in Dublin. Martha folds herself into a letter and drops into Bloom's pocket From there, her muffled smut talk vibrates his pants, vibrates his groin He opens the letter but her words have withered into a dry flower The dying flower asks about Molly's perfume but Henry Flower keeps mum Torn to bits, the letter snows—winter of a love that will never be. He is the lotus flower, Dublin his river—now drift. A bullfrog priest croaks Latin. The priest holds a Bible of erotica. His confession box is the envy of Pandora. Dublin's black thoughts and actions make their deposits there He can't make his—his God is in another land. Dirty mind all morning, he leaves the chemist shop With bar of lemon soap. Blind horse race participant. He throws away his victory and Lyons picks it up. The future is aromatic suds lathering his soul into a fetal lethargy From which wakes the boy. His eyes unstick from sleep's syrup. On a hanging leaf, blown by the wind, a thought hammocks. And falls. The tea is still. The leaf lands. Thought Ripples.