There's Mark. There's frequently help from Oskar Matzerath and Adrian Leverkuhn. There is a pile of corpses in the band's back yard, and indeterminate bodies ambling up the driveway.
Influences
Chameleons, Swans, Bowie, Pixies, Sparklehorse, My Bloody Valentine, Joy Division, Throbbing Gristle
What you see is detritus of an apocryphal Bridge--strange whispers from a neglected grave. Stinking rotting palms rustle beneath the weeds. What you don't see, but will soon, is the Bridge-in-progress, an old body getting kicked back into life.
THANX FOR BEING A FRIEND OF CRISS KARVER AND THE LUNACY MACHINE. ALSO, WANTED TO WISH YOU A FABULOUS DARK AND TWISTED WEEK!!! HOPE THE HOLIDAYS ARE GOOD TO YOU! IF YOU'RE UP TO SOME NEW TWISTED TALES IN RHYME, STOP BY AND CHECK OUT MY BLOG: http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendID=124955625
-TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK AND LOOK FOR THE LUNACY MACHINE TO HIT THE BOOK SHELVES SOON!
DROPPING BY TO SAY THANX FOR BEING A FRIEND OF CRISS KARVER AND THE LUNACY MACHINE. ALSO, WANTED TO WISH YOU A FABULOUS DARK AND TWISTED WEEK!!!
HERE IS A PREVIEW FOR THE UPCOMING STORY 'OUIJA' WHICH IS ONE OF MANY TWISTED RHYMES INSIDE THE NEW LUNACY MACHINE.
OUIJA
Is there someone there? Is there someone there? Come talk to us tonight. We’re asking for the dead to speak, It’s only us . . .my wife and me. Come tell us how you died.
The oracle moved about the board A figure-eight reply. The oracle started slowing down, then stopped . . . above the Y.
Tell us more, tell us more, what brought you here to me? Tell us how you died tonight. Tell us when you died tonight. Tell us what brings you here tonight. Keep spelling it for me.
The figure eight continues and around the board it moves. It’s slowing down, it’s slowing down. Come, spirit, talk to me right now, Tell us tonight, because we want to know . . Then the oracle stopped on the letter O.
You’re coming in so very clear, Now tell us why you’re roaming here, on this dark and stormy night. Speak to me, speak to me, Travel through this board to me. Tell us why you sleep tonight beneath your resting tomb. Speak to me, speak to me, speak to me now. Then the oracle stopped on the U.
Y-O-U, Y-O-U, this isn’t making sense. You spelled out, YOU is this what you meant to do? Then the oracle stopped on YES.
*COME BY AND VISIT ME AND PREVIEW SOME OTHER STORIES FROM THE LUNACY MACHINE, TWISTED TALES OF UNFORTUNATE TIMES 'R' in my blog section SEE YA!! -CRISS KARVER
Come see Night Gallery (www.myspace.com/nightgallerynyc) and Gothos (myspace.com/gothosband) making their debut show - they have been moved on Thurs. to ALPHABET LOUNGE, 104 Avenue C (at the corner of 7th Street), 212-780-0202, $10 admission - 18+ w/ID - Showtime: 7:30pm. Hope you can make it!
FOR YOU MY FRIEND ... A POEM FROM THE LUNACY MACHINE
HERE IS ...
I called in sick to work today;
Sometimes that’s not so bad.
My head is stuffy;
My body’s achy;
My hands and legs are kinda shaky.
My eyes are weary and sort of blurry.
My sinuses, too, have started hurting.
My nose is dripping; my stomach bloated.
My cheeks, in fact, are kinda swollen.
With that, I called in sick.
I thought the average flu for sure.
Who wouldn’t with what I’ve got?
But something told me it was more than that
When I turned the TV on.
There were riots in Virginia.
There was looting in New York.
They were declaring martial law in towns I’d never heard before.
They were interviewing doctors who had learned of a disease,
And they mentioned that the plague began in Nashville, Tennessee.
Then they interviewed a patient who was pointing at his eyes. He said,
“There are spiders all around us!
They’ll lay their eggs inside us!
These spiders here are poisonous!”
Then he dropped his hands and died.
Hey Some Awful Bridge,
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