Origin of the World (Black Mountain Session)

David KeenanDavid Keenan 

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David Keenan

David Keenan (born April 1971) is a Scottish author, critic and musician. He is the author of England's Hidden Reverse, a biography of Coil, Current 93 and Nurse with Wound, a regular contributor to The Wire since 1995. He used to run Volcanic Tongue. His novel For the Good Times won the 2019 Gordon Burn Prize. more »

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I'm singing this song in an act of rebellion. If I wear a white shirt would my appearance seem clean. I've emptied my skull of stale symbolism. From my fingers I scrubbed you like a nicotine stain. Craving some daylight and the sobering cold, I had heard of that deity from a yarn I'd been told by an elder of our tribe with the mind of a hunter. He had the spirit of a bird and the soul of an orphan, he released in me wisdom and happy endorphins. Wish me luck I'm in trouble again, I'm in love with a woman friend. So I let out a whistle and my hound came a yelping. Our Diana she bathed in that there pond beyond those ditches, I hear an act of contrition from Christopher Hitchens sent the opium smoker of to the Astral Plane. Then I moved through the forest while unraveling the line I had placed on my chisel and my well worn blade. From her tongue and her teeth I bare the marks of a slave. Wish me luck I'm in trouble again, I'm in love with a woman friend. Being chased by this beast many young fellas died. Poets digging their trenches have been buried alive by that clandestine creature with the kill in her eyes. Would Luna and Lupa both emerge from the den if they gazed even once into the origin of men. Would Luna and Lupa both be put to the sword if they dared even once touch the origin of the world. Wish me luck I'm in trouble again, I'm in love with a woman friend.

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