MorpheusSandman
02-22-2010, 12:38 AM
This is a piece written by a friend of mine who goes by D.J.R. Caron. I loved it so much I told him I really wanted to post it on here. It's a bit long, but really worth it. It's a wonderful dark comedy piece full of some rather ingenious parody in a lyric-like form. He said he made intentionally "bad", and part of the parody comes from that, but I think it's superb in a way, say, the best B-movies are.
Abortion Clinic Blues by D.J.R. Caron
You got those Abortion Clinic Blues,
Oh, yes you do,
All those Abortion Clinic Blues,
I-I-Aye, Aye, Aye,
Whore or, Whore or us,
Blah-blah, black and Wha-wha white,
When you got those Abhor-ortion
Clit-Clinic Blue-oohs,
Don’t want the mess you made,
Or the crème you crave,
Just want a taste of your bun,
Not the honey-bun-gum,
In your ovary oven,
Only thing I want’s your lovin’
And I’ll give you a shovin’
If I have to
I want you on my floor,
And I want you ‘gainst the wall,
I want you on the door,
I want you to come and crawl,
Leave the baby boy at home,
Where the milk swollen she-wolves roam
In the fields outside of Rome,
Just like I do,
Crawl, Crawl, Crawl,
But not your spawn,
No, No, No,
Leave it in the dawn,
Don’t want your carriage,
I won’t be your baby daddy,
I don’t want your marriage,
Or your fallopian caddy,
Cause I’m a Libertine,
Havin’ a real good time,
Don’t need that ov’ry slime
Oh yeah, I know,
No, No, No,
You know he knows,
Yes, Yes, Yes,
Look how he glows,
I can’t believe how you glanced at me,
With your Bowie dilated eyes,
Down on one knee,
With haphazardly congealed cries,
Abhor-abortion
Clit-clit Clinic Blue-oohs,
Ch-Ch-Choice is a carrot cake,
With a knife to break,
And a bloody raw steak
To bake,
I got a coat hanger tied into a knot,
Like the cherry stem on your tongue,
Oh damn baby, you’re hot,
No need to be so high-strung,
You know we’ll have fun,
Flush out the scum ‘fore it’s begun,
So let me get my gun,
And pop yo gut,
Gut, Gut, Gut,
Why not try the butt?
Or, Or, Or,
Just another rut?
Don’t want your dollhouse,
You’re little blue rattle
Or your tiny pink blouse,
Or you’re infantile human cattle
I want you to miscarry on my dinner plate,
Fnck it’d make a real hot date,
And you need to loose some weight,
Hey so do I,
Eat, Eat, Eat,
Eat it all up,
Shlup, Shlup, Shlup,
Pour some in my cup,
I want your placenta,
For the vitamin love,
I want your dementia,
And my fleshy plastic glove,
Want to lick the inside of your womb,
Unknot the soft pink skin bloom,
Soak up stem cells with my tongue gristle broom,
Broom, Broom, Broom,
You’re womb is gloom,
Gloom, Gloom, Gloom,
In the fetus room,
And all it’s doom
I can’t believe how you ran from me,
With my John Swift tongue in cheek,
Why did you flee?
With your tightly clenched physique?
And I want your afterbirth,
In my chicken noodle soup,
Want your post baby mirth,
All on my turkey in a fleshy droop,
And the flab on your throat,
To be the thick winter coat,
Of a lonely masturbating mountain got,
Yeah I went there,
Goat, Goat, Goat,
You know you would,
I want you to C-section,
And your bedpan stew,
And your blood my erection,
With my spit and glue,
I want your scorn and I want you to mourn,
Your crow pecked newborn,
In a patch of rosy thorns,
Oh yeah, it’s good,
I want to play jump rope,
With your umbilical cord,
Want to see the last bits of hope,
Drain from the baby’s gourd,
I want you to have my abortion,
And the white hot shun of a nun,
I want your wire mesh contortion,
All over me,
Me, Me, Me,
Hello Marquis,
Yes, Yes, Yes,
I do agree,
You be Justine
And I’ll be Juliette,
You be clean,
And I’ll be all wet,
I’ll take your 120 days,
But not you’re baby plays,
I’ll take you’re mother’s malaise
But not your father’s praise,
I can’t believe how you leered at me,
With your low angle Kubrick stare,
You said you were free,
And didn’t need the cushion on your chair,
I want to be inland your empire instead,
Cause I’m wild at heart,
In your blue velvet bed,
With my eraser head dart,
Even an elephant man like me,
Can get lost down your highway,
With all that dune and debris,
In your Mulholland Drive sheets,
I’ll play the story straight
And take a dump on your twin peaks,
I want your hate,
Hate, Hate, Hate,
A figure eight,
Don’t wanna mate,
Mate, Mate, Mate
Wanna dance straight,
Through all the weight,
Weight, Weight, Weight,
I-I-Aye, Aye, Aye,
Whore or, Whore or us,
Blah-blah, black and Wha-wha white,
When you got those Abhor-ortion
Clit-Clinic Blue-oohs,
Abortion Clinic Blues by D.J.R. Caron
You got those Abortion Clinic Blues,
Oh, yes you do,
All those Abortion Clinic Blues,
I-I-Aye, Aye, Aye,
Whore or, Whore or us,
Blah-blah, black and Wha-wha white,
When you got those Abhor-ortion
Clit-Clinic Blue-oohs,
Don’t want the mess you made,
Or the crème you crave,
Just want a taste of your bun,
Not the honey-bun-gum,
In your ovary oven,
Only thing I want’s your lovin’
And I’ll give you a shovin’
If I have to
I want you on my floor,
And I want you ‘gainst the wall,
I want you on the door,
I want you to come and crawl,
Leave the baby boy at home,
Where the milk swollen she-wolves roam
In the fields outside of Rome,
Just like I do,
Crawl, Crawl, Crawl,
But not your spawn,
No, No, No,
Leave it in the dawn,
Don’t want your carriage,
I won’t be your baby daddy,
I don’t want your marriage,
Or your fallopian caddy,
Cause I’m a Libertine,
Havin’ a real good time,
Don’t need that ov’ry slime
Oh yeah, I know,
No, No, No,
You know he knows,
Yes, Yes, Yes,
Look how he glows,
I can’t believe how you glanced at me,
With your Bowie dilated eyes,
Down on one knee,
With haphazardly congealed cries,
Abhor-abortion
Clit-clit Clinic Blue-oohs,
Ch-Ch-Choice is a carrot cake,
With a knife to break,
And a bloody raw steak
To bake,
I got a coat hanger tied into a knot,
Like the cherry stem on your tongue,
Oh damn baby, you’re hot,
No need to be so high-strung,
You know we’ll have fun,
Flush out the scum ‘fore it’s begun,
So let me get my gun,
And pop yo gut,
Gut, Gut, Gut,
Why not try the butt?
Or, Or, Or,
Just another rut?
Don’t want your dollhouse,
You’re little blue rattle
Or your tiny pink blouse,
Or you’re infantile human cattle
I want you to miscarry on my dinner plate,
Fnck it’d make a real hot date,
And you need to loose some weight,
Hey so do I,
Eat, Eat, Eat,
Eat it all up,
Shlup, Shlup, Shlup,
Pour some in my cup,
I want your placenta,
For the vitamin love,
I want your dementia,
And my fleshy plastic glove,
Want to lick the inside of your womb,
Unknot the soft pink skin bloom,
Soak up stem cells with my tongue gristle broom,
Broom, Broom, Broom,
You’re womb is gloom,
Gloom, Gloom, Gloom,
In the fetus room,
And all it’s doom
I can’t believe how you ran from me,
With my John Swift tongue in cheek,
Why did you flee?
With your tightly clenched physique?
And I want your afterbirth,
In my chicken noodle soup,
Want your post baby mirth,
All on my turkey in a fleshy droop,
And the flab on your throat,
To be the thick winter coat,
Of a lonely masturbating mountain got,
Yeah I went there,
Goat, Goat, Goat,
You know you would,
I want you to C-section,
And your bedpan stew,
And your blood my erection,
With my spit and glue,
I want your scorn and I want you to mourn,
Your crow pecked newborn,
In a patch of rosy thorns,
Oh yeah, it’s good,
I want to play jump rope,
With your umbilical cord,
Want to see the last bits of hope,
Drain from the baby’s gourd,
I want you to have my abortion,
And the white hot shun of a nun,
I want your wire mesh contortion,
All over me,
Me, Me, Me,
Hello Marquis,
Yes, Yes, Yes,
I do agree,
You be Justine
And I’ll be Juliette,
You be clean,
And I’ll be all wet,
I’ll take your 120 days,
But not you’re baby plays,
I’ll take you’re mother’s malaise
But not your father’s praise,
I can’t believe how you leered at me,
With your low angle Kubrick stare,
You said you were free,
And didn’t need the cushion on your chair,
I want to be inland your empire instead,
Cause I’m wild at heart,
In your blue velvet bed,
With my eraser head dart,
Even an elephant man like me,
Can get lost down your highway,
With all that dune and debris,
In your Mulholland Drive sheets,
I’ll play the story straight
And take a dump on your twin peaks,
I want your hate,
Hate, Hate, Hate,
A figure eight,
Don’t wanna mate,
Mate, Mate, Mate
Wanna dance straight,
Through all the weight,
Weight, Weight, Weight,
I-I-Aye, Aye, Aye,
Whore or, Whore or us,
Blah-blah, black and Wha-wha white,
When you got those Abhor-ortion
Clit-Clinic Blue-oohs,