Text: Legendary Pink Dots. Stoned Obituary.

lightning cracked a crooked cross across the sky above the cross where he'd
been hanging for a day (he was stoned again!) The breeze grew ice threw
knives blew halos hallowed cinders flew together made a cushion for his
feet. There were spikes in his sandals, spikes in his ankles... A spike
split the wood, syringed his vertabrae. Spikes in his shins in his chin in
his fingers... Amused apparitions hummed the Marsollaise. We had to look
away, he seemed so fragile. We tried to offer him a cigarette but it was
futile... no way through. The guards screamed "Front!", drew guns, splashed
acid.. so we retreated to the shadows squated low and said a prayer Cameras
clicked out of sight there are fights, there were fanfares. Fireworks
flashed across the cenotaph. Kiddies played in the pits, spitting crisps,
licking icecreams. A spiv threw an auction for his autograph. I never
thought it would finish quite this way. No resistance not a word to say but
maybe we'll meet in heaven. We can talk about those good old days. I believe
(at least I WANT to believe)

The angels landed cleared their throats and chorused "Crown Him!" They
poured a potion on his hair it nearly drowned him. Then they called a
minute's silence. They called the clowns in and a cripple touched his foot
and did a cartwheel down the hill... turning once for his wisdom, twice for
the pearl moon. A third as the thief cried "It's judgement day." He rolled

his eyes, ripped his shirt rolled insane in the dirt. Applause ripped the
heavens and blew the clouds away. The laughter died as schoolgirls passed
around the tissues. Pretty patterns while a message said "We'll miss you.
Bless you. Bless your eyes." And the bell rang twice and we fell as his
lips moved. We stared in stoney silence as the news guy scribbled furiously
down his final words: "I made mistakes. I've been a fool. I tried hard byt
never thought that what started so well could end in misery. But my motives
were good. I thought you all understood... Just don't be hard when this day
is cloaked in history. You mistrusted me? ...," And he died with his eyes
on... ash for ashes dust for dust a lust for dust a must for dust die with
your eyes on...

Nomini magnus spiritus sancti filia