the doors
the hill dwellers
Way back deep into the brain Way back past the realm of pain Back where there's never any rain. And the rain falls gently on the town, And over the heads of all of us. And in the labyrinth of streams Beneath, quiet unearthly presence of Nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hills around, Reptiles abounding Fossils, caves, cool air heights. Each house repeats a mold Windows rolled A beast car locked in against morning. All now sleeping Rugs silent, mirrors vacant, Dust blind under the beds of lawful couples Wound in sheets. And daughters, smug With semen eyes in their nipples Wait There's been a slaughter here!.