If you ever call, there is always
this: the grumble or tremble in
your voice is mine. I have gone
out to something, am not available
now. As a rule, I am never home.
I do the goose dance, i do the
state of the art. This is my
answer then, my message. Listen:
the hill is full of rocks
the wood is green with beasts
Goat watches the sky bruise
with approaching day. He is old,
he can hardly walk. One day
Troll lifts him, carries him
to the city and drops him in
the middle of Broadway. Traffic
stops for miles. Goat is constantly
mumbling something. Someone in a car
gets out and shoots him. Goat is dead.
Goat is never dead.
from GOAT lies down on Broadway. For more info see here.
Translations from the English 