Tristan Tzara

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this is the song of a dadaistwho had dada in his hearthe tore his motor aparthe had dada in his heartthe elevator lugged a kinghe was a lumpy frail machinehe cut his right arm to the bonesent it to the pope in romethat’s why laterthe elevatorhad n...

two smiles meet towardsthe child-wheel of my zealthe bloody baggage of creaturesmade flesh in physical legends-livesthe nimble stags storms cloud overrain falls under the scissors ofthe dark hairdresser-furiouslyswimming under the clashing arpeggi...

where we live the flowers of the clocks catch fire and the plumes encircle the brightness in the distant sulphur morning the cows lick the salt liliesmy sonmy sonlet us always shuffle through the colour of the worldwhich looks bluer than the subwa...

Art is going to sleep for a new world to be
RT"-parrot word-replaced by
DA,
US, or