Walking down the beach while eating a peach, I encountered a tribal sacrifice. No way! Insane! I couldn’t refrain from running to the source of the cries. Tied up to a pole, an exotic young soul waited for the arrow to disfigure his face. Target practice? Stop the madness! I disbelieved the scene I saw.
Flail (Sex While Eating Barbecue)
A thorny root-fruit, tangy-sweet, filled with juice…a pineapple, let’s say, stood atop his head. Tall Indian man with a bow in his hand stood laughing ten yards away (ha ha ha).
“Sunny day. Whatcha say?” the snickering bowman said, then explained, “You see, we must have our main-entrée—a pail-faced delicacy!”
Flail (Sex While Eating Barbecue)
All around the towering man, a harem of leather-clad women sang:
“Are you ready for us baby? Are you ready? Sloppy, messy, ooohhh!”
Hungry eyes. Wild smiles. His last words came out with a bang.
“Cannibal man! Take me away!” screamed Whitey as he was tied up and laid.
Over him straddled a fine looking babe wet and darkly tanned. She fed him some wings and put beans on his chest. She lapped it up as others giggled and played. She choked on a bone (it wasn’t funny). He blew another Nutbird to put it bluntly.
Flail (Sex While Eating Barbecue)
- - -
credits
from Flail,
released July 4, 1999
Bobart: Guitar
hOmer Jack: Drums
tHommy Robot: Vocals, Bass, Synth, Words
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