Harold Pinter
Don’t look. The world’s about to break. Don’t look. The world’s about to chuck out all its light And stuff us in the chokepit of its dark, That black and fat suffocated place Where
I send my voice into your mouth You return the compliment I am the Count of Cannizzaro You are Her Royal Highness the Princess Augusta I am the thaumaturgic chain You hold the opera
No, you’re wrong. Everyone is as beautiful as they can possibly be Particularly at lunch in a laughing restaurant Everyone is as beautiful as they can possibly be And they are moved by their
Jill. Fred phoned. He can’t make tonight. He said he’d call again, as soon as poss. I said (on your behalf) OK, no sweat. He said to tell you he was fine, Only the
Hallelujah! It works. We blew the shit out of them. We blew the shit right back up their own ass And out their fucking ears. It works. We blew the shit out of them.