[{"id":18852132,"name":"Howl","trackName":"Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"The Allen Ginsberg Audio Collection (Disc 1)","duration":1320.193741,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: The Allen Ginsberg Audio Collection (Disc 1)\n  duration_ms: 1320194\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":22953888,"name":"Howl","trackName":"Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"The Voice Of The Poet- Allen Ginsberg","duration":1305.861224,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: The Voice Of The Poet- Allen Ginsberg\n  duration_ms: 1305861\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":20902608,"name":"Howl","trackName":"Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl","duration":2149.057728,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl\n  duration_ms: 2149058\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":12307817,"name":"Howl","trackName":"Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl","duration":1308.478792,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl\n  duration_ms: 1308479\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":17201607,"name":"Howl","trackName":"Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl and Other Poems","duration":1308.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl and Other Poems\n  duration_ms: 1308000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":24227640,"name":"Howl (Live) [Explicit]","trackName":"Howl (Live) [Explicit]","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl (Remastered)","duration":1307.1412224,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl (Live) [Explicit]\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl (Remastered)\n  duration_ms: 1307141\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":10611418,"name":"Howl - Live / 1/29/1959","trackName":"Howl - Live / 1/29/1959","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl","duration":1307.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness\nStarving, hysterical, naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn\nLooking for an angry fix\nAngel headed hipsters\nconnection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,\nwho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in\nthe supernatural darkness of cold-water flats\nfloating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,\nwho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw\nMohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,\nwho passed through universities with radiant cool eyes\nhallucinating Arkansas and\nBlake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,\nwho were expelled from the academies for crazy &\npublishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,\nwho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear,\nburning their money in wastebaskets and\nlistening to the Terror through the wall,\nwho got busted in their pubic beards returning\nthrough Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,\nwho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in\nParadise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nwith dreams, with drugs,\nwith waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,\nincomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the\nmind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson,\nilluminating all the motionless world of Time between,\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns,\nwine drunkenness over the rooftops,\nstorefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light,\nsun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter\ndusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,\nwho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery\nto holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children\nbrought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak\nof brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,\nwho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and\nsat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate\nFugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,\nwho talked continuously seventy hours from park to\npad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,\na lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the\nstoops off fire escapes off\nwindowsills off Empire State out of the moon,\nyacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and\nanecdotes and eyeball kicks and\nshocks of hospitals and jails and wars,\nwhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and\nnights with brilliant eyes,\nmeat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,\nwho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a\ntrail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,\nsuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and\nmigraines of China under\njunk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,\nwho wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad\nyard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,\nwho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing\nthrough snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,\nwho studied Plotinus Poe St.\nJohn of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because\nthe cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,\nwho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking\nvisionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,\nwho thought they were only mad when\nBaltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,\nwho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on\nthe impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,\nwho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex\nor soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about\nAmerica and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,\nwho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing\nbut the shadow of dungarees and the lava and\nash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,\nwho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and\nshorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their\ndark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,\nwho burned cigarette holes in their arms\nprotesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,\nwho distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and\nundressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down,\nand wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,\nwho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked\nand trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,\nwho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in\npolicecars for committing no crime but their\nown wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,\nwho howled on their knees in the subway and were\ndragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,\nwho let themselves be fucked in the ass by\nsaintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,\nwho blew and were blown by those human seraphim,\nthe sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,\nwho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the\ngrass of public parks and cemeteries\nscattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,\nwho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob\nbehind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the\nblond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,\nwho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed\nshrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of\nthe womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her\nass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom,\nwho copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a\nsweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed,\nand continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on\nthe wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and\ncome eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,\nwho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset,\nand were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch\nof the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,\nwho went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.\nC., secret hero of these poems,\ncocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable\nlays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards,\nmoviehouses' rickety rows,\non mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar\nroadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially\nsecret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,\nwho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams,\nwoke on a sudden Manhattan,\nand picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless\nTokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron\ndreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,\nwho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank\ndocks waiting for a door in the East River\nto open to a room full of steam-heat and opium,\nwho created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the\nHudson under the wartime blur floodlight of the moon\n& their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,\nwho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested\nthe crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,\nwho wept at the romance of the streets with\ntheir pushcarts full of onions and bad music,\nwho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the\nbridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,\nwho coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame\nunder the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,\nwho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty\nincantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,\nwho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail\nborsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,\nwho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,\nwho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for\nEternity outside of Time,\n& alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,\nwho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully,\ngave up and were forced to open antique stores\nwhere they thought they were growing old and cried,\nwho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison\nAvenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the\niron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies\nof advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent\neditors, or were run down by the\ndrunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,\nwho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked\naway unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of\nChinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,\nwho sang out of their windows in despair,\nfell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic,\nleaped on negroes, cried all over the street,\ndanced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of\nnostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw\nup groaning into the bloody toilet,\nmoans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,\nwho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each\nother's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude\nwatch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,\nwho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a\nvision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,\nwho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver,\nwho came back to Denver & waited in vain,\nwho watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally\nwent away to find out the Time,\n& now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,\nwho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each\nother's salvation and light and breasts,\nuntil the soul illuminated its hair for a second,\nwho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible\ncriminals with golden heads and the charm of\nreality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,\nwho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit,\nor Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern\nPacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to\nNarcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,\nwho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism\n& were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,\nwho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently\npresented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven\nheads and harlequin speech of\nsuicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,\nand who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol\nelectricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy\noccupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,\nwho in humorless protest overturned only one\nsymbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,\nreturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood,\nand tears and fingers,\nto the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls,\nbickering with the echoes of the soul,\nrocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of\nlove, dream of life a nightmare,\nbodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,\nwith mother finally,\nand the last fantastic book flung out of the\ntenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.\nM.\nand the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last\nfurnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture,\na yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet,\nand even that imaginary,\nnothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe,\nand now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nand who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden\nflash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis\ncatalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,\nwho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images\njuxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual\nimages and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of\nconsciousness together jumping with\nsensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nto recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand\nbefore you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame,\nrejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to\nthe rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,\nthe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown,\nyet putting down here what might be\nleft to say in time come after death,\nand rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn\nshadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for\nlove into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nwith the absolute heart of the poem of life\nbutchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years","syncedLyrics":"[00:29.32]I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed\n[00:33.44]By madness, starving, hysterical, naked\n[00:39.18]Dragging themselves through the negro\n[00:40.75]Streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.53]Angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly\n[00:48.53]Connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:53.28]Who poverty in tatters and hollow-eyed and high set up\n[00:56.85]Smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold water flats\n[01:00.15]Floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.17]Who bared their brains to heaven under the El and saw\n[01:07.92]Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:12.91]Who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating\n[01:17.11]Arkansas and Blake-like tragedy among the scholars of money and war\n[01:24.34]Who were expelled from the academies for crazy and\n[01:27.86]Publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:32.82]Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear burning their money\n[01:36.62]In waste baskets and listening to the terror through the wall\n[01:40.63]Who got busted in their pubic beards returning\n[01:43.21]Through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.27]Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley\n[01:52.22]Death or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams\n[01:57.33]With drugs with waking nightmares alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.53]Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning\n[02:06.18]In the mind leaping toward poles of Canada and Paterson\n[02:10.25]Illuminating all the motionless world of time between\n[02:14.29]Peyote solidities of walls, backyard green trees\n[02:17.65]Cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops\n[02:23.50]Storefront boroughs of tea head joyride neon blinking traffic\n[02:26.97]Light sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter\n[02:30.78]Dusks of Brooklyn ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:37.28]Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery\n[02:40.80]To Holy Bronx on Benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children\n[02:44.83]Brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered Greek\n[02:48.07]Of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of zoo\n[02:53.16]Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated\n[02:56.66]Out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate\n[03:00.01]Fugazis listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.64]Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to\n[03:09.12]Bar to Bellevue to the Brooklyn Bridge a lost battalion of\n[03:13.37]Platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire\n[03:17.81]Escapes off window sills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.15]Yakkety yakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and\n[03:27.08]Anecdotes and eyeball kicks and\n[03:28.93]Shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.29]Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights\n[03:36.55]With brilliant eyes meat for the synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.66]Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail\n[03:44.91]Of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.78]Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangierian bone grindings and migraines\n[03:53.17]Of China under junk withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.79]Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad\n[04:00.51]Yard wondering where to go and went leaving no broken hearts\n[04:05.00]Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing\n[04:08.62]Through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.89]Who studied Plotinus, Poe, St. John of the Cross\n[04:15.96]Telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos\n[04:19.12]Instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:23.34]Who loomed it through the streets of Idaho seeking\n[04:26.06]Visionary Indian angels who were visionary Indian angels\n[04:30.60]Who thought they were only mad when\n[04:32.71]Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:36.34]Who jumped in limousines with a Chinaman of Oklahoma on\n[04:39.60]The impulse of winter midnight streetlight small town rain\n[04:44.34]Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or\n[04:48.13]Sex or soup and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about\n[04:52.38]America and eternity a hopeless task and so took ship to Africa\n[04:57.81]Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind\n[05:01.54]Nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash\n[05:05.02]Of poetry never got written scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:09.73]Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI\n[05:13.32]In beers and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in\n[05:17.05]Their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.48]Who burned cigarette holes in their arms\n[05:23.70]Protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of capitalism\n[05:27.78]Who distributed communist pamphlets in Union Square weeping\n[05:30.68]And undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down\n[05:34.65]And wailed down Wall and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.14]Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and\n[05:42.19]Trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:45.74]Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with\n[05:48.31]Delight in police cars for committing no crime but\n[05:51.29]Their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:56.25]Who howled on their knees in the subway and were\n[05:58.02]Dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.12]Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists\n[06:05.64]And screamed with joyWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim\n[06:10.48]The sailors' caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04]Who bawled in the morning and the evenings in rose gardens\n[06:17.88]And the grass of public parks and cemeteries\n[06:20.54]Scattering their semen freely to whomever, come who may\n[06:25.04]Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob\n[06:28.69]Behind a partition in a Turkish bath\n[06:31.39]When the blonde and naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.95]Who lost their love boys to the three old shrews of fate\n[06:39.34]The one-eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar\n[06:43.11]The one-eyed shrew that winks out of the womb\n[06:45.83]And the one-eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass\n[06:48.76]And snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:53.65]Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate\n[06:56.25]With a bottle of beer, a sweetheart, a package of cigarettes, a candle\n[06:59.90]And fell off the bed and continued along the floor and down the hall\n[07:04.06]And ended, fading on the wall\n[07:06.70]With a vision of ultimate cunt and cum\n[07:08.99]Eluding the last jism of consciousness\n[07:12.96]Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset\n[07:16.98]And were red-eyed in the morning but prepared\n[07:18.97]To sweeten the snatch of the sunrise\n[07:21.12]Flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.92]Who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night cars\n[07:30.07]N.C., secret hero of these poems\n[07:33.26]Coxman and Adonis of Denver\n[07:35.04]Joy to the memory of his innumerable lays\n[07:37.26]Of girls in empty lots and diner backyards\n[07:40.31]Movie houses, rickety rows, on mountaintops, in caves\n[07:44.26]Or with gaunt waitresses in familiar\n[07:46.48]Roadside lonely petticoat upliftings\n[07:49.36]And especially secret gas station\n[07:51.95]Solipsisms of johns and hometown alleys too\n[07:55.83]Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams\n[07:59.74]Woke on a sudden Manhattan, picked themselves up out of basements\n[08:03.60]Hung over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams\n[08:07.88]And stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:11.14]Who walked all night with their shoes\n[08:12.79]Full of blood on the snowbank docks\n[08:15.33]Waiting for a door in the East River to\n[08:17.68]Open to a room full of steam heat and opium\n[08:21.21]Who created great suicidal dramas on\n[08:23.46]The apartment cliff banks of the Hudson\n[08:25.75]Under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon\n[08:28.46]And their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:33.02]Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination\n[08:35.45]Or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery\n[08:40.13]Who wept at the romance of the streets with\n[08:42.02]Their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.84]Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge\n[08:48.70]And rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts\n[08:52.40]Who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame\n[08:55.81]Under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.92]Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations\n[09:04.53]Which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.99]Who cooked rotten animals, lung, heart\n[09:10.98]Feet, tail, borscht and tortillas\n[09:13.07]Dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.15]Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.60]Who threw their watches off the roof to cast\n[09:23.03]Their ballot for eternity outside of time\n[09:25.54]And alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.76]Who cut their wrists three times unsuccessfully\n[09:32.70]Gave up and were forced to open antique stores\n[09:35.18]Where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:38.30]Who were burned alive in their innocent\n[09:40.09]Flannel suits on Madison Avenue\n[09:42.46]Amid blasts of leaden verse and the tanked-\n[09:45.54]Up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion\n[09:48.40]And the nitroglycerin shrieks of the fairies of advertising\n[09:52.39]And the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors\n[09:55.73]Or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of absolute reality\n[10:00.40]Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge\n[10:01.86]And walked away unknown and forgotten\n[10:03.79]Into the ghostly days of Chinatown soup, alleyways and fire trucks\n[10:07.97]Not even one free beer\n[10:10.19]Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway\n[10:14.24]Jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped\n[10:16.41]On Negroes, cried all over the street\n[10:19.02]Danced on broken wine glasses barefoot\n[10:21.20]Smashed phonograph records of nostalgic 1930s European German jazz\n[10:26.01]Finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet\n[10:29.72]Moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steam whistles\n[10:33.90]Who barreled down the highways of the past\n[10:36.53]Journeying to each other's hot rod Golgotha jail solitude watch\n[10:40.66]Or Birmingham blues incarnation\n[10:43.91]Who drove cross-country seventy-two\n[10:45.62]Hours to find out if I had a vision\n[10:47.53]Or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out eternity\n[10:51.85]Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver\n[10:54.42]Who came back to Denver and waited in vain\n[10:57.26]Who watched over Denver and brooded and loamed in Denver\n[11:00.80]And finally went away to find out the time\n[11:03.49]And now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.85]Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals\n[11:10.68]Praying for each other's salvation and light and breath\n[11:14.39]Until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:18.05]Who crashed through their minds in jail\n[11:20.44]Waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads\n[11:23.14]And the charm of reality in their hearts\n[11:25.54]Who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.24]Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit\n[11:32.18]Or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha\n[11:34.24]Or Tangiers to boy\n[11:36.01]Or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive\n[11:38.77]Or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn or grave\n[11:42.42]Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism\n[11:46.22]And were left with their insanity and their hands and a hung jury\n[11:50.74]Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism\n[11:54.86]And subsequently presented themselves\n[11:56.87]On the granite steps of the madhouse\n[11:59.39]With shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide\n[12:03.08]Demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:06.42]And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin\n[12:08.82]Metrisol, electricity, hydrotherapy, psychotherapy\n[12:12.48]Occupational therapy, ping-pong and amnesiaWho in humorless\n[12:17.98]Protest overturned only one symbolic ping-pong table\n[12:21.50]Resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.00]Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood\n[12:27.96]Tears and fingers\n[12:29.43]To the visible madman doom of the wards of the mad towns of the East\n[12:33.86]Pilgrim states, Rocklands and Greystones fetid halls\n[12:38.12]Bickering with echoes of the soul\n[12:40.35]Rocking and rolling in the midnight\n[12:42.25]Solitude bench dolmen realms of love\n[12:45.18]Dream of night, dream of life a nightmare\n[12:48.17]Bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.76]With mother finally and the last fantastic\n[12:53.47]Book flung out of the tenement window\n[12:55.86]And the last door closed at 4 a.m.\n[12:58.42]And the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply\n[13:01.51]And the last furnished room emptied down\n[13:03.65]To the last piece of mental furniture\n[13:06.04]A yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet\n[13:09.98]And even that imaginary\n[13:11.75]Nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination\n[13:14.89]Ah Carl, while you are not safe, I am not safe\n[13:19.22]And now you're really in the total animal soup of time\n[13:23.68]And who therefore ran through the icy streets\n[13:27.93]Obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse\n[13:33.38]The catalog, the meter, the vibrating plane, the truth of poetry\n[13:39.25]Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in\n[13:41.73]Time and space through images juxtaposed\n[13:45.27]And trapped the archangel of the soul between two visual imagers\n[13:50.17]And joined the elemental verbs and set the\n[13:52.75]Noun and dash of consciousness together\n[13:55.66]Jumping with sensation of Pater omnipotens aeterna Deus\n[14:00.56]To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose\n[14:05.65]And stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame\n[14:10.66]Rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to\n[14:14.32]The rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.39]The madman, bum and angel beat in time\n[14:22.83]Yet putting down what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.65]And rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz\n[14:32.04]In the gold horn shadow of the band\n[14:34.68]And blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love\n[14:38.33]Into an Eli Eli lama lama sabachthani saxophone cry\n[14:42.82]That shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.34]With the absolute heart of the poem of\n[14:48.30]Life butchered out of their own bodies\n[14:50.98]Good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.77]Part two\n[14:57.42]What sphinx of cement and aluminum\n[15:02.43]Bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.62]Moloch, solitude, filth, ugliness\n[15:15.21]Ashcans and unobtainable dollars\n[15:17.29]Children screaming under stairways\n[15:19.71]Boys sobbing in armies\n[15:21.93]Old men weeping in the park\n[15:24.17]Moloch, Moloch, nightmare of Moloch\n[15:27.85]Moloch the loveless, mental Moloch\n[15:31.22]Moloch the heavy judger of men\n[15:34.82]Moloch the incomprehensible prison\n[15:38.48]Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and congress of sorrows\n[15:44.19]Moloch whose buildings are judgment\n[15:47.40]Moloch the vast stone of war\n[15:50.63]Moloch the stunned government\n[15:54.06]Moloch whose mind is pure machinery\n[15:57.96]Moloch whose blood is running money\n[16:01.79]Moloch whose fingers are ten armies\n[16:05.22]Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo\n[16:08.78]Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb\n[16:13.18]Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows\n[16:17.66]Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in\n[16:19.73]The long streets like endless Jehovas\n[16:23.33]Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog\n[16:28.64]Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities\n[16:34.27]Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone\n[16:38.65]Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks\n[16:43.49]Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius\n[16:47.78]Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen\n[16:52.63]Moloch whose name is the mind\n[16:56.06]Moloch in whom I sit lonely\n[16:59.50]Moloch in whom I dream angels\n[17:03.07]Crazy in Moloch\n[17:05.78]Cocksucker in Moloch\n[17:07.41]Lacklove and manless in Moloch\n[17:10.77]Moloch who entered my soul early\n[17:14.50]Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body\n[17:18.95]Moloch who frightens me out of my natural ecstasy\n[17:23.24]Moloch whom I abandon\n[17:26.45]Wake up in Moloch\n[17:28.57]Light streams out of the sky\n[17:31.88]Moloch, Moloch, robot apartments\n[17:35.44]Invisible suburbs, skeleton treasuries\n[17:38.87]Blind capitals, demonic industries\n[17:41.88]Spectral nations, invincible madhouse\n[17:45.28]Granite cocks, monstrous bombs\n[17:49.33]They broke their backs lifting Moloch to heaven\n[17:52.63]Pavements, trees, radios, tongues\n[17:55.58]Lifting the city to heaven which exists and is everywhere about us\n[18:00.46]Visions, omens, hallucinations\n[18:03.72]Miracles, ecstasies gone down the American river\n[18:09.57]Dreams, adorations, religions\n[18:12.52]The whole boatload of sensitive bullshit\n[18:17.16]Breakthroughs over the riverFlips and crucifixions gone down the flood\n[18:22.20]Highs, epiphanies, despairs\n[18:25.47]Ten years animal screams and suicides\n[18:28.33]Minds, new loves, mad generation\n[18:31.76]Down on the rocks of time\n[18:34.26]Real holy laughter in the river\n[18:36.82]They saw it all\n[18:38.40]The wild eyes, the holy yells\n[18:41.23]They bade farewell\n[18:42.92]They jumped off the roof\n[18:44.57]To solitude\n[18:45.92]Waving, carrying flowers\n[18:48.33]Down to the river\n[18:49.54]Into the street\n[18:52.53]Part Three\n[18:55.09]Carl Solomon\n[18:57.19]I'm with you in Rockland where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.29]I'm with you in Rockland where you must feel very strange\n[19:05.37]I'm with you in Rockland where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.96]I'm with you in Rockland where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:14.43]I'm with you in Rockland where you laugh at this invisible humor\n[19:18.74]I'm with you in Rockland where we are great\n[19:20.64]Writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.52]I'm with you in Rockland where your condition\n[19:26.37]Has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.18]I'm with you in Rockland where the faculties of\n[19:31.90]The skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.74]I'm with you in Rockland where you drink the\n[19:37.40]Tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.47]I'm with you in Rockland where you pun on the\n[19:43.06]Bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:46.88]I'm with you in Rockland where you scream in a straitjacket that\n[19:49.67]You're losing the game of the actual ping-pong of the abyss\n[19:54.23]I'm with you in Rockland where you bang on the catatonic piano\n[19:57.40]The soul is innocent and immortal\n[19:59.43]Should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:03.70]I'm with you in Rockland where fifty more shocks will never return\n[20:07.12]Your soul to its body again from\n[20:09.13]Its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:13.04]I'm with you in Rockland where you accuse your\n[20:14.94]Doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist\n[20:18.21]Revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.56]I'm with you in Rockland where you'll split the heavens of Long\n[20:25.18]Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.56]I'm with you in Rockland where there are twenty-five thousand mad\n[20:33.29]Comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:39.27]I'm with you in Rockland where we hug and\n[20:41.05]Kiss the United States under our bedsheets\n[20:44.18]The United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.74]I'm with you in Rockland where we wake up electrified out of\n[20:51.92]The coma by our own soul's airplanes roaring over the roof\n[20:57.32]They've come to drop angelical bombs\n[21:00.28]The hospital illuminates itself\n[21:02.77]Imaginary walls collapse\n[21:04.94]Oh skinny legions run outside\n[21:08.06]Oh starry spangled shock of mercy\n[21:11.36]The eternal war is here\n[21:15.04]I'm with you in Rockland in my dreams\n[21:17.60]You walk dripping from a sea journey\n[21:20.37]On the highway across America\n[21:22.91]In tears to the door of my cottage\n[21:25.67]In the western night","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl - Live / 1/29/1959\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl\n  duration_ms: 1307000\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed\n  start_ms: 29320\n  end_ms: 33070\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 29320\n  - text: 'saw '\n    start_ms: 29440\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 29830\n  - text: 'best '\n    start_ms: 29950\n  - text: 'minds '\n    start_ms: 30220\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 30610\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 30699\n  - text: 'generation '\n    start_ms: 30880\n  - text: destroyed\n    start_ms: 32470\n- text: By madness, starving, hysterical, naked\n  start_ms: 33440\n  end_ms: 37550\n  words:\n  - text: 'By '\n    start_ms: 33440\n  - text: 'madness, '\n    start_ms: 33620\n  - text: 'starving, '\n    start_ms: 34790\n  - text: 'hysterical, '\n    start_ms: 35960\n  - text: naked\n    start_ms: 37130\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro\n  start_ms: 39180\n  end_ms: 40750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Dragging '\n    start_ms: 39180\n  - text: 'themselves '\n    start_ms: 39551\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 40151\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 40265\n  - text: negro\n    start_ms: 40379\n- text: Streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 40750\n  end_ms: 43270\n  words:\n  - text: 'Streets '\n    start_ms: 40750\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 41170\n  - text: 'dawn '\n    start_ms: 41350\n  - text: 'looking '\n    start_ms: 41860\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 42220\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 42400\n  - text: 'angry '\n    start_ms: 42520\n  - text: fix\n    start_ms: 42940\n- text: Angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly\n  start_ms: 44530\n  end_ms: 48490\n  words:\n  - text: Angel-\n    start_ms: 44530\n  - text: 'headed '\n    start_ms: 45070\n  - text: 'hipsters '\n    start_ms: 45430\n  - text: 'burning '\n    start_ms: 46600\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 47110\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 47289\n  - text: 'ancient '\n    start_ms: 47470\n  - text: heavenly\n    start_ms: 47950\n- text: Connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 48530\n  end_ms: 51770\n  words:\n  - text: 'Connection '\n    start_ms: 48530\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 49160\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 49310\n  - text: 'starry '\n    start_ms: 49430\n  - text: 'dynamo '\n    start_ms: 49940\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 50539\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 50660\n  - text: 'machinery '\n    start_ms: 50720\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 51350\n  - text: night\n    start_ms: 51470\n- text: Who poverty in tatters and hollow-eyed and high set up\n  start_ms: 53280\n  end_ms: 56850\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 53280\n  - text: 'poverty '\n    start_ms: 53426\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 53924\n  - text: 'tatters '\n    start_ms: 54041\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 54568\n  - text: hollow-\n    start_ms: 54655\n  - text: 'eyed '\n    start_ms: 55036\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 55475\n  - text: 'high '\n    start_ms: 55621\n  - text: 'set '\n    start_ms: 56410\n  - text: up\n    start_ms: 56674\n- text: Smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold water flats\n  start_ms: 56850\n  end_ms: 60150\n  words:\n  - text: 'Smoking '\n    start_ms: 56850\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 57390\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 57510\n  - text: 'supernatural '\n    start_ms: 57600\n  - text: 'darkness '\n    start_ms: 58440\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 59010\n  - text: 'cold '\n    start_ms: 59100\n  - text: 'water '\n    start_ms: 59460\n  - text: flats\n    start_ms: 59760\n- text: Floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 60150\n  end_ms: 63120\n  words:\n  - text: 'Floating '\n    start_ms: 60150\n  - text: 'across '\n    start_ms: 60570\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 60930\n  - text: 'tops '\n    start_ms: 61080\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 61440\n  - text: 'cities '\n    start_ms: 61529\n  - text: 'contemplating '\n    start_ms: 61980\n  - text: jazz\n    start_ms: 62730\n- text: Who bared their brains to heaven under the El and saw\n  start_ms: 65170\n  end_ms: 67920\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 65170\n  - text: 'bared '\n    start_ms: 65286\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 65575\n  - text: 'brains '\n    start_ms: 65749\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 66182\n  - text: 'heaven '\n    start_ms: 66328\n  - text: 'under '\n    start_ms: 66733\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 66994\n  - text: 'El '\n    start_ms: 67195\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 67486\n  - text: saw\n    start_ms: 67602\n- text: Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 67920\n  end_ms: 71580\n  words:\n  - text: 'Mohammedan '\n    start_ms: 67920\n  - text: 'angels '\n    start_ms: 68609\n  - text: 'staggering '\n    start_ms: 69180\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 69780\n  - text: 'tenement '\n    start_ms: 69960\n  - text: 'roofs '\n    start_ms: 70500\n  - text: illuminated\n    start_ms: 70920\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating\n  start_ms: 72910\n  end_ms: 77110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 72910\n  - text: 'passed '\n    start_ms: 73058\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 73413\n  - text: 'universities '\n    start_ms: 73561\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 74359\n  - text: 'radiant '\n    start_ms: 74537\n  - text: 'cool '\n    start_ms: 75010\n  - text: 'eyes '\n    start_ms: 75395\n  - text: hallucinating\n    start_ms: 76371\n- text: Arkansas and Blake-like tragedy among the scholars of money and war\n  start_ms: 77110\n  end_ms: 82540\n  words:\n  - text: 'Arkansas '\n    start_ms: 77110\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 78220\n  - text: Blake-\n    start_ms: 78430\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 78880\n  - text: 'tragedy '\n    start_ms: 79300\n  - text: 'among '\n    start_ms: 80020\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 80440\n  - text: 'scholars '\n    start_ms: 80560\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 81160\n  - text: 'money '\n    start_ms: 81340\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 81850\n  - text: war\n    start_ms: 82150\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy and\n  start_ms: 84340\n  end_ms: 87790\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 84340\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 84400\n  - text: 'expelled '\n    start_ms: 84580\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 85210\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 85479\n  - text: 'academies '\n    start_ms: 85630\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 86290\n  - text: 'crazy '\n    start_ms: 86470\n  - text: and\n    start_ms: 87490\n- text: Publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 87860\n  end_ms: 91280\n  words:\n  - text: 'Publishing '\n    start_ms: 87860\n  - text: 'obscene '\n    start_ms: 88520\n  - text: 'odes '\n    start_ms: 89090\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 89570\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 89750\n  - text: 'windows '\n    start_ms: 89869\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 90470\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 90619\n  - text: skull\n    start_ms: 90740\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear burning their money\n  start_ms: 92820\n  end_ms: 96620\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 92820\n  - text: 'cowered '\n    start_ms: 92940\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 93418\n  - text: 'unshaven '\n    start_ms: 93538\n  - text: 'rooms '\n    start_ms: 94166\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 94555\n  - text: 'underwear '\n    start_ms: 94675\n  - text: 'burning '\n    start_ms: 95752\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 96141\n  - text: money\n    start_ms: 96321\n- text: In waste baskets and listening to the terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 96620\n  end_ms: 99560\n  words:\n  - text: 'In '\n    start_ms: 96620\n  - text: 'waste '\n    start_ms: 96740\n  - text: 'baskets '\n    start_ms: 97040\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 97640\n  - text: 'listening '\n    start_ms: 97759\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 98210\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 98360\n  - text: 'terror '\n    start_ms: 98450\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 98840\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 99050\n  - text: wall\n    start_ms: 99170\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning\n  start_ms: 100630\n  end_ms: 103210\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 100630\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 100750\n  - text: 'busted '\n    start_ms: 101140\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 101530\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 101650\n  - text: 'pubic '\n    start_ms: 101830\n  - text: 'beards '\n    start_ms: 102250\n  - text: returning\n    start_ms: 102700\n- text: Through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 103210\n  end_ms: 105820\n  words:\n  - text: 'Through '\n    start_ms: 103210\n  - text: 'Laredo '\n    start_ms: 103390\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 103870\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 104050\n  - text: 'belt '\n    start_ms: 104110\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 104440\n  - text: 'marijuana '\n    start_ms: 105160\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 105190\n  - text: 'New '\n    start_ms: 105370\n  - text: York\n    start_ms: 105490\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley\n  start_ms: 107270\n  end_ms: 112040\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 107270\n  - text: 'ate '\n    start_ms: 107390\n  - text: 'fire '\n    start_ms: 107600\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 108050\n  - text: 'paint '\n    start_ms: 108170\n  - text: 'hotels '\n    start_ms: 108530\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 109670\n  - text: 'drank '\n    start_ms: 109760\n  - text: 'turpentine '\n    start_ms: 110120\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 110870\n  - text: 'Paradise '\n    start_ms: 110990\n  - text: Alley\n    start_ms: 111740\n- text: Death or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams\n  start_ms: 112220\n  end_ms: 117330\n  words:\n  - text: 'Death '\n    start_ms: 112220\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 113141\n  - text: 'purgatoried '\n    start_ms: 113943\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 113973\n  - text: 'torsos '\n    start_ms: 114151\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 114775\n  - text: 'after '\n    start_ms: 115132\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 115488\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 116587\n  - text: dreams\n    start_ms: 116766\n- text: With drugs with waking nightmares alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 117330\n  end_ms: 121890\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 117330\n  - text: 'drugs '\n    start_ms: 117570\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 118080\n  - text: 'waking '\n    start_ms: 118290\n  - text: 'nightmares '\n    start_ms: 118680\n  - text: 'alcohol '\n    start_ms: 119460\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 120210\n  - text: 'cock '\n    start_ms: 120330\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 120840\n  - text: 'endless '\n    start_ms: 120990\n  - text: balls\n    start_ms: 121440\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning\n  start_ms: 122530\n  end_ms: 126070\n  words:\n  - text: 'Incomparable '\n    start_ms: 122530\n  - text: 'blind '\n    start_ms: 123370\n  - text: 'streets '\n    start_ms: 123790\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 124270\n  - text: 'shuddering '\n    start_ms: 124360\n  - text: 'cloud '\n    start_ms: 124900\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 125410\n  - text: lightning\n    start_ms: 125530\n- text: In the mind leaping toward poles of Canada and Paterson\n  start_ms: 126180\n  end_ms: 129930\n  words:\n  - text: 'In '\n    start_ms: 126180\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 126330\n  - text: 'mind '\n    start_ms: 126450\n  - text: 'leaping '\n    start_ms: 127230\n  - text: 'toward '\n    start_ms: 127650\n  - text: 'poles '\n    start_ms: 128010\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 128490\n  - text: 'Canada '\n    start_ms: 128610\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 129209\n  - text: Paterson\n    start_ms: 129360\n- text: Illuminating all the motionless world of time between\n  start_ms: 130250\n  end_ms: 133340\n  words:\n  - text: 'Illuminating '\n    start_ms: 130250\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 130880\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 131090\n  - text: 'motionless '\n    start_ms: 131180\n  - text: 'world '\n    start_ms: 131780\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 132170\n  - text: 'time '\n    start_ms: 132290\n  - text: between\n    start_ms: 132800\n- text: Peyote solidities of walls, backyard green trees\n  start_ms: 134290\n  end_ms: 137650\n  words:\n  - text: 'Peyote '\n    start_ms: 134290\n  - text: 'solidities '\n    start_ms: 134703\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 135410\n  - text: 'walls, '\n    start_ms: 135528\n  - text: 'backyard '\n    start_ms: 136559\n  - text: 'green '\n    start_ms: 137061\n  - text: trees\n    start_ms: 137385\n- text: Cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops\n  start_ms: 137650\n  end_ms: 142240\n  words:\n  - text: 'Cemetery '\n    start_ms: 137650\n  - text: 'dawns, '\n    start_ms: 138280\n  - text: 'wine '\n    start_ms: 139270\n  - text: 'drunkenness '\n    start_ms: 139600\n  - text: 'over '\n    start_ms: 140290\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 140560\n  - text: rooftops\n    start_ms: 141520\n- text: Storefront boroughs of tea head joyride neon blinking traffic\n  start_ms: 143500\n  end_ms: 146970\n  words:\n  - text: 'Storefront '\n    start_ms: 143500\n  - text: 'boroughs '\n    start_ms: 143530\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 144004\n  - text: 'tea '\n    start_ms: 144182\n  - text: 'head '\n    start_ms: 144479\n  - text: 'joyride '\n    start_ms: 144775\n  - text: 'neon '\n    start_ms: 145457\n  - text: 'blinking '\n    start_ms: 145962\n  - text: traffic\n    start_ms: 146495\n- text: Light sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter\n  start_ms: 146970\n  end_ms: 150780\n  words:\n  - text: 'Light '\n    start_ms: 146970\n  - text: 'sun '\n    start_ms: 147684\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 148131\n  - text: 'moon '\n    start_ms: 148250\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 148577\n  - text: 'tree '\n    start_ms: 148726\n  - text: 'vibrations '\n    start_ms: 148994\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 149708\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 149798\n  - text: 'roaring '\n    start_ms: 149917\n  - text: winter\n    start_ms: 150363\n- text: Dusks of Brooklyn ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 150780\n  end_ms: 155130\n  words:\n  - text: 'Dusks '\n    start_ms: 150780\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 151230\n  - text: 'Brooklyn '\n    start_ms: 151350\n  - text: 'ashcan '\n    start_ms: 152580\n  - text: 'rantings '\n    start_ms: 152610\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 153180\n  - text: 'kind '\n    start_ms: 153300\n  - text: 'king '\n    start_ms: 154020\n  - text: 'light '\n    start_ms: 154350\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 154620\n  - text: mind\n    start_ms: 154740\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery\n  start_ms: 157280\n  end_ms: 160800\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 157280\n  - text: 'chained '\n    start_ms: 157397\n  - text: 'themselves '\n    start_ms: 157779\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 158307\n  - text: 'subways '\n    start_ms: 158423\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 159011\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 159187\n  - text: 'endless '\n    start_ms: 159363\n  - text: 'ride '\n    start_ms: 159744\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 160096\n  - text: Battery\n    start_ms: 160360\n- text: To Holy Bronx on Benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children\n  start_ms: 160800\n  end_ms: 164790\n  words:\n  - text: 'To '\n    start_ms: 160800\n  - text: 'Holy '\n    start_ms: 160980\n  - text: 'Bronx '\n    start_ms: 161340\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 161790\n  - text: 'Benzedrine '\n    start_ms: 162000\n  - text: 'until '\n    start_ms: 162720\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 163079\n  - text: 'noise '\n    start_ms: 163200\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 163620\n  - text: 'wheels '\n    start_ms: 163740\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 164160\n  - text: children\n    start_ms: 164280\n- text: Brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered Greek\n  start_ms: 164830\n  end_ms: 167950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Brought '\n    start_ms: 164830\n  - text: 'them '\n    start_ms: 165160\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 165430\n  - text: 'shuddering '\n    start_ms: 165760\n  - text: mouth-\n    start_ms: 166270\n  - text: 'wracked '\n    start_ms: 166600\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 166960\n  - text: 'battered '\n    start_ms: 167109\n  - text: Greek\n    start_ms: 167590\n- text: Of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of zoo\n  start_ms: 168070\n  end_ms: 171700\n  words:\n  - text: 'Of '\n    start_ms: 168070\n  - text: 'brain '\n    start_ms: 168190\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 168580\n  - text: 'drained '\n    start_ms: 168759\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 169120\n  - text: 'brilliance '\n    start_ms: 169240\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 170110\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 170260\n  - text: 'drear '\n    start_ms: 170349\n  - text: 'light '\n    start_ms: 170740\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 171099\n  - text: zoo\n    start_ms: 171280\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated\n  start_ms: 173160\n  end_ms: 176640\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 173160\n  - text: 'sank '\n    start_ms: 173280\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 173729\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 173910\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 174180\n  - text: 'submarine '\n    start_ms: 174299\n  - text: 'light '\n    start_ms: 174870\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 175080\n  - text: 'Bickford''s '\n    start_ms: 175170\n  - text: floated\n    start_ms: 176310\n- text: Out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate\n  start_ms: 176660\n  end_ms: 180010\n  words:\n  - text: 'Out '\n    start_ms: 176660\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 177109\n  - text: 'sat '\n    start_ms: 177227\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 177587\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 177707\n  - text: 'stale '\n    start_ms: 177826\n  - text: 'beer '\n    start_ms: 178245\n  - text: 'afternoon '\n    start_ms: 178634\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 179352\n  - text: desolate\n    start_ms: 179531\n- text: Fugazis listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 180010\n  end_ms: 184450\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fugazis '\n    start_ms: 180010\n  - text: 'listening '\n    start_ms: 181240\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 181750\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 181870\n  - text: 'crack '\n    start_ms: 182019\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 182350\n  - text: 'doom '\n    start_ms: 182470\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 182950\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 183070\n  - text: 'hydrogen '\n    start_ms: 183190\n  - text: jukebox\n    start_ms: 183700\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to\n  start_ms: 185640\n  end_ms: 189120\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 185640\n  - text: 'talked '\n    start_ms: 185758\n  - text: 'continuously '\n    start_ms: 186141\n  - text: 'seventy '\n    start_ms: 186938\n  - text: 'hours '\n    start_ms: 187409\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 187793\n  - text: 'park '\n    start_ms: 187999\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 188353\n  - text: 'pad '\n    start_ms: 188560\n  - text: to\n    start_ms: 188943\n- text: Bar to Bellevue to the Brooklyn Bridge a lost battalion of\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 193350\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bar '\n    start_ms: 189120\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 189420\n  - text: 'Bellevue '\n    start_ms: 189600\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 190320\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 190440\n  - text: 'Brooklyn '\n    start_ms: 190560\n  - text: 'Bridge '\n    start_ms: 190980\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 192090\n  - text: 'lost '\n    start_ms: 192180\n  - text: 'battalion '\n    start_ms: 192510\n  - text: of\n    start_ms: 193200\n- text: Platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire\n  start_ms: 193370\n  end_ms: 197810\n  words:\n  - text: 'Platonic '\n    start_ms: 193370\n  - text: 'conversationalists '\n    start_ms: 193996\n  - text: 'jumping '\n    start_ms: 195635\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 196052\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 196320\n  - text: 'stoops '\n    start_ms: 196409\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 197274\n  - text: fire\n    start_ms: 197482\n- text: Escapes off window sills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 197810\n  end_ms: 201500\n  words:\n  - text: 'Escapes '\n    start_ms: 197810\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 198410\n  - text: 'window '\n    start_ms: 198680\n  - text: 'sills '\n    start_ms: 199040\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 199580\n  - text: 'Empire '\n    start_ms: 199819\n  - text: 'State '\n    start_ms: 200270\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 200750\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 201020\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 201080\n  - text: moon\n    start_ms: 201200\n- text: Yakkety yakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and\n  start_ms: 203150\n  end_ms: 207080\n  words:\n  - text: 'Yakkety '\n    start_ms: 203150\n  - text: 'yakking '\n    start_ms: 203180\n  - text: 'screaming '\n    start_ms: 203505\n  - text: 'vomiting '\n    start_ms: 204273\n  - text: 'whispering '\n    start_ms: 205159\n  - text: 'facts '\n    start_ms: 205691\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 206223\n  - text: 'memories '\n    start_ms: 206341\n  - text: and\n    start_ms: 206962\n- text: Anecdotes and eyeball kicks and\n  start_ms: 207080\n  end_ms: 208930\n  words:\n  - text: 'Anecdotes '\n    start_ms: 207080\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 207814\n  - text: 'eyeball '\n    start_ms: 207932\n  - text: 'kicks '\n    start_ms: 208401\n  - text: and\n    start_ms: 208783\n- text: Shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 208930\n  end_ms: 211510\n  words:\n  - text: 'Shocks '\n    start_ms: 208930\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 209410\n  - text: 'hospitals '\n    start_ms: 209499\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 210160\n  - text: 'jails '\n    start_ms: 210280\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 210820\n  - text: wars\n    start_ms: 210970\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights\n  start_ms: 212290\n  end_ms: 216550\n  words:\n  - text: 'Whole '\n    start_ms: 212290\n  - text: 'intellects '\n    start_ms: 212590\n  - text: 'disgorged '\n    start_ms: 213220\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 213880\n  - text: 'total '\n    start_ms: 214000\n  - text: 'recall '\n    start_ms: 214330\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 215200\n  - text: 'seven '\n    start_ms: 215350\n  - text: 'days '\n    start_ms: 215710\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 216040\n  - text: nights\n    start_ms: 216160\n- text: With brilliant eyes meat for the synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 216550\n  end_ms: 220570\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 216550\n  - text: 'brilliant '\n    start_ms: 216760\n  - text: 'eyes '\n    start_ms: 217120\n  - text: 'meat '\n    start_ms: 217900\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 218230\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 218410\n  - text: 'synagogue '\n    start_ms: 218500\n  - text: 'cast '\n    start_ms: 219490\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 219850\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 219970\n  - text: pavement\n    start_ms: 220060\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail\n  start_ms: 221660\n  end_ms: 224910\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 221660\n  - text: 'vanished '\n    start_ms: 221749\n  - text: 'into '\n    start_ms: 222221\n  - text: 'nowhere '\n    start_ms: 222399\n  - text: 'Zen '\n    start_ms: 222842\n  - text: 'New '\n    start_ms: 223137\n  - text: 'Jersey '\n    start_ms: 223315\n  - text: 'leaving '\n    start_ms: 224112\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 224437\n  - text: trail\n    start_ms: 224526\n- text: Of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 224910\n  end_ms: 227700\n  words:\n  - text: 'Of '\n    start_ms: 224910\n  - text: 'ambiguous '\n    start_ms: 224970\n  - text: 'picture '\n    start_ms: 225599\n  - text: 'postcards '\n    start_ms: 225960\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 226560\n  - text: 'Atlantic '\n    start_ms: 226650\n  - text: 'City '\n    start_ms: 227100\n  - text: Hall\n    start_ms: 227400\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangierian bone grindings and migraines\n  start_ms: 228780\n  end_ms: 233170\n  words:\n  - text: 'Suffering '\n    start_ms: 228780\n  - text: 'Eastern '\n    start_ms: 229228\n  - text: 'sweats '\n    start_ms: 229676\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 230512\n  - text: 'Tangierian '\n    start_ms: 231109\n  - text: 'bone '\n    start_ms: 231139\n  - text: 'grindings '\n    start_ms: 231468\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 232394\n  - text: migraines\n    start_ms: 233140\n- text: Of China under junk withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 233170\n  end_ms: 236830\n  words:\n  - text: 'Of '\n    start_ms: 233170\n  - text: 'China '\n    start_ms: 233260\n  - text: 'under '\n    start_ms: 234010\n  - text: 'junk '\n    start_ms: 234250\n  - text: 'withdrawal '\n    start_ms: 234549\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 235179\n  - text: 'Newark''s '\n    start_ms: 235240\n  - text: 'bleak '\n    start_ms: 235720\n  - text: 'furnished '\n    start_ms: 236050\n  - text: room\n    start_ms: 236500\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad\n  start_ms: 237790\n  end_ms: 240510\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 237790\n  - text: 'wandered '\n    start_ms: 237879\n  - text: 'around '\n    start_ms: 238263\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 238677\n  - text: 'around '\n    start_ms: 238766\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 239150\n  - text: 'midnight '\n    start_ms: 239298\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 239799\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 239889\n  - text: railroad\n    start_ms: 240007\n- text: Yard wondering where to go and went leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 240510\n  end_ms: 244080\n  words:\n  - text: 'Yard '\n    start_ms: 240510\n  - text: 'wondering '\n    start_ms: 240810\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 241199\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 241410\n  - text: 'go '\n    start_ms: 241500\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 242220\n  - text: 'went '\n    start_ms: 242370\n  - text: 'leaving '\n    start_ms: 242940\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 243210\n  - text: 'broken '\n    start_ms: 243420\n  - text: hearts\n    start_ms: 243780\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing\n  start_ms: 245000\n  end_ms: 248570\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 245000\n  - text: 'lit '\n    start_ms: 245090\n  - text: 'cigarettes '\n    start_ms: 245360\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 245960\n  - text: 'boxcars '\n    start_ms: 248000\n  - text: 'boxcars '\n    start_ms: 248029\n  - text: 'boxcars '\n    start_ms: 248060\n  - text: racketing\n    start_ms: 248090\n- text: Through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 248620\n  end_ms: 251470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Through '\n    start_ms: 248620\n  - text: 'snow '\n    start_ms: 248830\n  - text: 'toward '\n    start_ms: 249220\n  - text: 'lonesome '\n    start_ms: 249520\n  - text: 'farms '\n    start_ms: 249999\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 250450\n  - text: 'grandfather '\n    start_ms: 250570\n  - text: night\n    start_ms: 251170\n- text: Who studied Plotinus, Poe, St. John of the Cross\n  start_ms: 252890\n  end_ms: 255960\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 252890\n  - text: 'studied '\n    start_ms: 252979\n  - text: 'Plotinus, '\n    start_ms: 253455\n  - text: 'Poe, '\n    start_ms: 254231\n  - text: 'St. '\n    start_ms: 254678\n  - text: 'John '\n    start_ms: 255036\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 255274\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 255364\n  - text: Cross\n    start_ms: 255513\n- text: Telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 259080\n  words:\n  - text: 'Telepathy '\n    start_ms: 255960\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 256620\n  - text: 'bop '\n    start_ms: 256740\n  - text: 'kabbalah '\n    start_ms: 257070\n  - text: 'because '\n    start_ms: 258030\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 258390\n  - text: cosmos\n    start_ms: 258480\n- text: Instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 259120\n  end_ms: 261910\n  words:\n  - text: 'Instinctively '\n    start_ms: 259120\n  - text: 'vibrated '\n    start_ms: 259930\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 260499\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 260650\n  - text: 'feet '\n    start_ms: 260800\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 261129\n  - text: Kansas\n    start_ms: 261250\n- text: Who loomed it through the streets of Idaho seeking\n  start_ms: 263340\n  end_ms: 266010\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 263340\n  - text: 'loomed '\n    start_ms: 263460\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 263790\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 263909\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 264090\n  - text: 'streets '\n    start_ms: 264210\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 264570\n  - text: 'Idaho '\n    start_ms: 264660\n  - text: seeking\n    start_ms: 265530\n- text: Visionary Indian angels who were visionary Indian angels\n  start_ms: 266060\n  end_ms: 269540\n  words:\n  - text: 'Visionary '\n    start_ms: 266060\n  - text: 'Indian '\n    start_ms: 266720\n  - text: 'angels '\n    start_ms: 267020\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 267620\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 267770\n  - text: 'visionary '\n    start_ms: 268130\n  - text: 'Indian '\n    start_ms: 268760\n  - text: angels\n    start_ms: 269060\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when\n  start_ms: 270600\n  end_ms: 272610\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 270600\n  - text: 'thought '\n    start_ms: 270720\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 271020\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 271140\n  - text: 'only '\n    start_ms: 271260\n  - text: 'mad '\n    start_ms: 271680\n  - text: when\n    start_ms: 272430\n- text: Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 272710\n  end_ms: 275290\n  words:\n  - text: 'Baltimore '\n    start_ms: 272710\n  - text: 'gleamed '\n    start_ms: 273310\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 273790\n  - text: 'supernatural '\n    start_ms: 273910\n  - text: ecstasy\n    start_ms: 274690\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with a Chinaman of Oklahoma on\n  start_ms: 276340\n  end_ms: 279600\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 276340\n  - text: 'jumped '\n    start_ms: 276488\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 276873\n  - text: 'limousines '\n    start_ms: 276962\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 277585\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 277733\n  - text: 'Chinaman '\n    start_ms: 277763\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 278266\n  - text: 'Oklahoma '\n    start_ms: 278355\n  - text: on\n    start_ms: 279452\n- text: The impulse of winter midnight streetlight small town rain\n  start_ms: 279600\n  end_ms: 283200\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 279600\n  - text: 'impulse '\n    start_ms: 279750\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 280200\n  - text: 'winter '\n    start_ms: 280289\n  - text: 'midnight '\n    start_ms: 280739\n  - text: 'streetlight '\n    start_ms: 281340\n  - text: 'small '\n    start_ms: 282120\n  - text: 'town '\n    start_ms: 282450\n  - text: rain\n    start_ms: 282840\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or\n  start_ms: 284340\n  end_ms: 288130\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 284340\n  - text: 'lounged '\n    start_ms: 284399\n  - text: 'hungry '\n    start_ms: 284932\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 285346\n  - text: 'lonesome '\n    start_ms: 285436\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 286265\n  - text: 'Houston '\n    start_ms: 286501\n  - text: 'seeking '\n    start_ms: 287005\n  - text: 'jazz '\n    start_ms: 287419\n  - text: or\n    start_ms: 288012\n- text: Sex or soup and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about\n  start_ms: 288130\n  end_ms: 292380\n  words:\n  - text: 'Sex '\n    start_ms: 288130\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 288661\n  - text: 'soup '\n    start_ms: 288838\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 289634\n  - text: 'followed '\n    start_ms: 289783\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 290166\n  - text: 'brilliant '\n    start_ms: 290255\n  - text: 'Spaniard '\n    start_ms: 290639\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 291495\n  - text: 'converse '\n    start_ms: 291613\n  - text: about\n    start_ms: 292144\n- text: America and eternity a hopeless task and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 292380\n  end_ms: 296700\n  words:\n  - text: 'America '\n    start_ms: 292380\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 292920\n  - text: 'eternity '\n    start_ms: 293100\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 293940\n  - text: 'hopeless '\n    start_ms: 294120\n  - text: 'task '\n    start_ms: 294510\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 295050\n  - text: 'so '\n    start_ms: 295230\n  - text: 'took '\n    start_ms: 295440\n  - text: 'ship '\n    start_ms: 295740\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 296010\n  - text: Africa\n    start_ms: 296160\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind\n  start_ms: 297810\n  end_ms: 301410\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 297810\n  - text: 'disappeared '\n    start_ms: 297900\n  - text: 'into '\n    start_ms: 298530\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 298710\n  - text: 'volcanoes '\n    start_ms: 298800\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 299460\n  - text: 'Mexico '\n    start_ms: 299580\n  - text: 'leaving '\n    start_ms: 300600\n  - text: behind\n    start_ms: 300930\n- text: Nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash\n  start_ms: 301540\n  end_ms: 305020\n  words:\n  - text: 'Nothing '\n    start_ms: 301540\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 301927\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 302016\n  - text: 'shadow '\n    start_ms: 302104\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 302550\n  - text: 'dungarees '\n    start_ms: 302641\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 303741\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 303890\n  - text: 'lava '\n    start_ms: 303979\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 304395\n  - text: ash\n    start_ms: 304604\n- text: Of poetry never got written scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 305020\n  end_ms: 308800\n  words:\n  - text: 'Of '\n    start_ms: 305020\n  - text: 'poetry '\n    start_ms: 305110\n  - text: 'never '\n    start_ms: 305680\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 305950\n  - text: 'written '\n    start_ms: 306160\n  - text: 'scattered '\n    start_ms: 306850\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 307360\n  - text: 'fireplace '\n    start_ms: 307510\n  - text: Chicago\n    start_ms: 308110\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI\n  start_ms: 309730\n  end_ms: 312700\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 309730\n  - text: 'reappeared '\n    start_ms: 309850\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 310390\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 310480\n  - text: 'West '\n    start_ms: 310570\n  - text: 'Coast '\n    start_ms: 310840\n  - text: 'investigating '\n    start_ms: 311440\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 312160\n  - text: FBI\n    start_ms: 312430\n- text: In beers and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in\n  start_ms: 313320\n  end_ms: 316950\n  words:\n  - text: 'In '\n    start_ms: 313320\n  - text: 'beers '\n    start_ms: 313470\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 313920\n  - text: 'shorts '\n    start_ms: 314040\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 314820\n  - text: 'big '\n    start_ms: 315000\n  - text: 'pacifist '\n    start_ms: 315270\n  - text: 'eyes '\n    start_ms: 315900\n  - text: 'sexy '\n    start_ms: 316320\n  - text: in\n    start_ms: 316860\n- text: Their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 317050\n  end_ms: 320260\n  words:\n  - text: 'Their '\n    start_ms: 317050\n  - text: 'dark '\n    start_ms: 317200\n  - text: 'skin '\n    start_ms: 317530\n  - text: 'passing '\n    start_ms: 318280\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 318640\n  - text: 'incomprehensible '\n    start_ms: 318850\n  - text: leaflets\n    start_ms: 319780\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms\n  start_ms: 321480\n  end_ms: 323490\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 321480\n  - text: 'burned '\n    start_ms: 321600\n  - text: 'cigarette '\n    start_ms: 321930\n  - text: 'holes '\n    start_ms: 322440\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 322770\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 322859\n  - text: arms\n    start_ms: 323010\n- text: Protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of capitalism\n  start_ms: 323700\n  end_ms: 326610\n  words:\n  - text: 'Protesting '\n    start_ms: 323700\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 324330\n  - text: 'narcotic '\n    start_ms: 324389\n  - text: 'tobacco '\n    start_ms: 324990\n  - text: 'haze '\n    start_ms: 325500\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 325830\n  - text: capitalism\n    start_ms: 325920\n- text: Who distributed communist pamphlets in Union Square weeping\n  start_ms: 327780\n  end_ms: 330680\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 327780\n  - text: 'distributed '\n    start_ms: 327897\n  - text: 'communist '\n    start_ms: 328483\n  - text: 'pamphlets '\n    start_ms: 328921\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 329508\n  - text: 'Union '\n    start_ms: 329625\n  - text: 'Square '\n    start_ms: 329948\n  - text: weeping\n    start_ms: 330358\n- text: And undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down\n  start_ms: 330680\n  end_ms: 334220\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 330680\n  - text: 'undressing '\n    start_ms: 330800\n  - text: 'while '\n    start_ms: 331760\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 331970\n  - text: 'sirens '\n    start_ms: 332059\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 332540\n  - text: 'Los '\n    start_ms: 332630\n  - text: 'Alamos '\n    start_ms: 332900\n  - text: 'wailed '\n    start_ms: 333380\n  - text: 'them '\n    start_ms: 333680\n  - text: down\n    start_ms: 333860\n- text: And wailed down Wall and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 334650\n  end_ms: 338220\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 334650\n  - text: 'wailed '\n    start_ms: 334770\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 335100\n  - text: 'Wall '\n    start_ms: 335400\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 335940\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 336060\n  - text: 'Staten '\n    start_ms: 336120\n  - text: 'Island '\n    start_ms: 336570\n  - text: 'ferry '\n    start_ms: 337020\n  - text: 'also '\n    start_ms: 337409\n  - text: wailed\n    start_ms: 337830\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and\n  start_ms: 339140\n  end_ms: 342140\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 339140\n  - text: 'broke '\n    start_ms: 339260\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 339560\n  - text: 'crying '\n    start_ms: 339890\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 340400\n  - text: 'white '\n    start_ms: 340519\n  - text: 'gymnasiums '\n    start_ms: 340790\n  - text: 'naked '\n    start_ms: 341630\n  - text: and\n    start_ms: 341990\n- text: Trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 342190\n  end_ms: 344770\n  words:\n  - text: 'Trembling '\n    start_ms: 342190\n  - text: 'before '\n    start_ms: 342730\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 343060\n  - text: 'machinery '\n    start_ms: 343150\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 343750\n  - text: 'other '\n    start_ms: 343870\n  - text: skeletons\n    start_ms: 344140\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with\n  start_ms: 345740\n  end_ms: 348310\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 345740\n  - text: 'bit '\n    start_ms: 345886\n  - text: 'detectives '\n    start_ms: 346148\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 346762\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 346879\n  - text: 'neck '\n    start_ms: 346937\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 347609\n  - text: 'shrieked '\n    start_ms: 347726\n  - text: with\n    start_ms: 348164\n- text: Delight in police cars for committing no crime but\n  start_ms: 348310\n  end_ms: 351160\n  words:\n  - text: 'Delight '\n    start_ms: 348310\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 348670\n  - text: 'police '\n    start_ms: 348760\n  - text: 'cars '\n    start_ms: 349090\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 349870\n  - text: 'committing '\n    start_ms: 349990\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 350350\n  - text: 'crime '\n    start_ms: 350589\n  - text: but\n    start_ms: 351010\n- text: Their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 351290\n  end_ms: 354170\n  words:\n  - text: 'Their '\n    start_ms: 351290\n  - text: 'own '\n    start_ms: 351410\n  - text: 'wild '\n    start_ms: 351590\n  - text: 'cooking '\n    start_ms: 351950\n  - text: 'pederasty '\n    start_ms: 353180\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 353210\n  - text: intoxication\n    start_ms: 353330\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were\n  start_ms: 356250\n  end_ms: 358020\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 356250\n  - text: 'howled '\n    start_ms: 356366\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 356656\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 356772\n  - text: 'knees '\n    start_ms: 356917\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 357179\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 357266\n  - text: 'subway '\n    start_ms: 357353\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 357817\n  - text: were\n    start_ms: 357904\n- text: Dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 358020\n  end_ms: 360840\n  words:\n  - text: 'Dragged '\n    start_ms: 358020\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 358410\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 358589\n  - text: 'roof '\n    start_ms: 358709\n  - text: 'waving '\n    start_ms: 359070\n  - text: 'genitals '\n    start_ms: 359430\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 360060\n  - text: manuscripts\n    start_ms: 360180\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists\n  start_ms: 362120\n  end_ms: 365390\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 362120\n  - text: 'let '\n    start_ms: 362240\n  - text: 'themselves '\n    start_ms: 362480\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 363020\n  - text: 'fucked '\n    start_ms: 363200\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 363530\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 363620\n  - text: 'ass '\n    start_ms: 363770\n  - text: 'by '\n    start_ms: 364070\n  - text: 'saintly '\n    start_ms: 364250\n  - text: motorcyclists\n    start_ms: 364640\n- text: And screamed with joyWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim\n  start_ms: 365640\n  end_ms: 370440\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 365640\n  - text: 'screamed '\n    start_ms: 365790\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 366240\n  - text: 'joyWho '\n    start_ms: 366810\n  - text: 'blew '\n    start_ms: 368340\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 368669\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 368790\n  - text: 'blown '\n    start_ms: 368940\n  - text: 'by '\n    start_ms: 369330\n  - text: 'those '\n    start_ms: 369510\n  - text: 'human '\n    start_ms: 369720\n  - text: seraphim\n    start_ms: 370080\n- text: The sailors' caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 370480\n  end_ms: 374110\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 370480\n  - text: 'sailors'' '\n    start_ms: 370600\n  - text: 'caresses '\n    start_ms: 371740\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 372370\n  - text: 'Atlantic '\n    start_ms: 372460\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 373060\n  - text: 'Caribbean '\n    start_ms: 373180\n  - text: love\n    start_ms: 373780\n- text: Who bawled in the morning and the evenings in rose gardens\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 377860\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 375040\n  - text: 'bawled '\n    start_ms: 375190\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 375609\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 375700\n  - text: 'morning '\n    start_ms: 375790\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 376210\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 376300\n  - text: 'evenings '\n    start_ms: 376360\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 376990\n  - text: 'rose '\n    start_ms: 377080\n  - text: gardens\n    start_ms: 377380\n- text: And the grass of public parks and cemeteries\n  start_ms: 377880\n  end_ms: 380190\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 377880\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 378000\n  - text: 'grass '\n    start_ms: 378060\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 378449\n  - text: 'public '\n    start_ms: 378540\n  - text: 'parks '\n    start_ms: 378930\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 379350\n  - text: cemeteries\n    start_ms: 379470\n- text: Scattering their semen freely to whomever, come who may\n  start_ms: 380540\n  end_ms: 383810\n  words:\n  - text: 'Scattering '\n    start_ms: 380540\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 381140\n  - text: 'semen '\n    start_ms: 381320\n  - text: 'freely '\n    start_ms: 381740\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 382220\n  - text: 'whomever, '\n    start_ms: 382460\n  - text: 'come '\n    start_ms: 382880\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 383330\n  - text: may\n    start_ms: 383450\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob\n  start_ms: 385040\n  end_ms: 388370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 385040\n  - text: 'hiccuped '\n    start_ms: 385190\n  - text: 'endlessly '\n    start_ms: 385609\n  - text: 'trying '\n    start_ms: 386240\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 386660\n  - text: 'giggle '\n    start_ms: 386750\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 387110\n  - text: 'wound '\n    start_ms: 387290\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 387590\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 387799\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 387920\n  - text: sob\n    start_ms: 387980\n- text: Behind a partition in a Turkish bath\n  start_ms: 388690\n  end_ms: 390850\n  words:\n  - text: 'Behind '\n    start_ms: 388690\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 389140\n  - text: 'partition '\n    start_ms: 389230\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 389890\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 390040\n  - text: 'Turkish '\n    start_ms: 390100\n  - text: bath\n    start_ms: 390550\n- text: When the blonde and naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 391390\n  end_ms: 394810\n  words:\n  - text: 'When '\n    start_ms: 391390\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 391510\n  - text: 'blonde '\n    start_ms: 391600\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 392079\n  - text: 'naked '\n    start_ms: 392230\n  - text: 'angel '\n    start_ms: 392590\n  - text: 'came '\n    start_ms: 393100\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 393490\n  - text: 'pierce '\n    start_ms: 393640\n  - text: 'them '\n    start_ms: 393970\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 394210\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 394390\n  - text: sword\n    start_ms: 394420\n- text: Who lost their love boys to the three old shrews of fate\n  start_ms: 395950\n  end_ms: 398890\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 395950\n  - text: 'lost '\n    start_ms: 396100\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 396370\n  - text: 'love '\n    start_ms: 396550\n  - text: 'boys '\n    start_ms: 396790\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 397180\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 397300\n  - text: 'three '\n    start_ms: 397420\n  - text: 'old '\n    start_ms: 397690\n  - text: 'shrews '\n    start_ms: 397990\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 398470\n  - text: fate\n    start_ms: 398590\n- text: The one-eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar\n  start_ms: 399340\n  end_ms: 402220\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 399340\n  - text: one-\n    start_ms: 399460\n  - text: 'eyed '\n    start_ms: 399700\n  - text: 'shrew '\n    start_ms: 400120\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 400600\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 400719\n  - text: 'heterosexual '\n    start_ms: 400960\n  - text: dollar\n    start_ms: 401800\n- text: The one-eyed shrew that winks out of the womb\n  start_ms: 403110\n  end_ms: 405270\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 403110\n  - text: one-\n    start_ms: 403170\n  - text: 'eyed '\n    start_ms: 403380\n  - text: 'shrew '\n    start_ms: 403679\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 404040\n  - text: 'winks '\n    start_ms: 404220\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 404610\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 404760\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 404820\n  - text: womb\n    start_ms: 404940\n- text: And the one-eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass\n  start_ms: 405830\n  end_ms: 408350\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 405830\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 405920\n  - text: one-\n    start_ms: 406010\n  - text: 'eyed '\n    start_ms: 406190\n  - text: 'shrew '\n    start_ms: 406399\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 406700\n  - text: 'does '\n    start_ms: 406850\n  - text: 'nothing '\n    start_ms: 407000\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 407420\n  - text: 'sit '\n    start_ms: 407570\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 407810\n  - text: 'her '\n    start_ms: 407960\n  - text: ass\n    start_ms: 408080\n- text: And snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 408760\n  end_ms: 412060\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 408760\n  - text: 'snip '\n    start_ms: 408880\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 409210\n  - text: 'intellectual '\n    start_ms: 409390\n  - text: 'golden '\n    start_ms: 409990\n  - text: 'threads '\n    start_ms: 410500\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 410920\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 411010\n  - text: 'craftsman''s '\n    start_ms: 411100\n  - text: loom\n    start_ms: 411790\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate\n  start_ms: 413650\n  end_ms: 415840\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 413650\n  - text: 'copulated '\n    start_ms: 414400\n  - text: 'ecstatic '\n    start_ms: 414430\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 415060\n  - text: insatiate\n    start_ms: 415180\n- text: With a bottle of beer, a sweetheart, a package of cigarettes, a candle\n  start_ms: 416250\n  end_ms: 419520\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 416250\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 416370\n  - text: 'bottle '\n    start_ms: 416400\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 416700\n  - text: 'beer, '\n    start_ms: 416819\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 417150\n  - text: 'sweetheart, '\n    start_ms: 417240\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 417870\n  - text: 'package '\n    start_ms: 417930\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 418350\n  - text: 'cigarettes, '\n    start_ms: 418410\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 418980\n  - text: candle\n    start_ms: 419040\n- text: And fell off the bed and continued along the floor and down the hall\n  start_ms: 419900\n  end_ms: 423560\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 419900\n  - text: 'fell '\n    start_ms: 420020\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 420260\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 420410\n  - text: 'bed '\n    start_ms: 420530\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 421250\n  - text: 'continued '\n    start_ms: 421340\n  - text: 'along '\n    start_ms: 421850\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 422150\n  - text: 'floor '\n    start_ms: 422270\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 422630\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 422750\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 423050\n  - text: hall\n    start_ms: 423200\n- text: And ended, fading on the wall\n  start_ms: 424060\n  end_ms: 426490\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 424060\n  - text: 'ended, '\n    start_ms: 424180\n  - text: 'fading '\n    start_ms: 425050\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 425470\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 425950\n  - text: wall\n    start_ms: 426070\n- text: With a vision of ultimate cunt and cum\n  start_ms: 426700\n  end_ms: 428800\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 426700\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 426880\n  - text: 'vision '\n    start_ms: 426910\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 427269\n  - text: 'ultimate '\n    start_ms: 427389\n  - text: 'cunt '\n    start_ms: 427810\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 428260\n  - text: cum\n    start_ms: 428440\n- text: Eluding the last jism of consciousness\n  start_ms: 428990\n  end_ms: 431420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Eluding '\n    start_ms: 428990\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 429530\n  - text: 'last '\n    start_ms: 429679\n  - text: 'jism '\n    start_ms: 429920\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 430460\n  - text: consciousness\n    start_ms: 430610\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset\n  start_ms: 432960\n  end_ms: 436470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 432960\n  - text: 'sweetened '\n    start_ms: 433110\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 433620\n  - text: 'snatches '\n    start_ms: 433740\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 434370\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 434460\n  - text: 'million '\n    start_ms: 434520\n  - text: 'girls '\n    start_ms: 434850\n  - text: 'trembling '\n    start_ms: 435270\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 435750\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 435840\n  - text: sunset\n    start_ms: 435930\n- text: And were red-eyed in the morning but prepared\n  start_ms: 436980\n  end_ms: 438970\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 436980\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 437129\n  - text: red-\n    start_ms: 437307\n  - text: 'eyed '\n    start_ms: 437485\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 437723\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 437812\n  - text: 'morning '\n    start_ms: 437871\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 438257\n  - text: prepared\n    start_ms: 438435\n- text: To sweeten the snatch of the sunrise\n  start_ms: 438970\n  end_ms: 440950\n  words:\n  - text: 'To '\n    start_ms: 438970\n  - text: 'sweeten '\n    start_ms: 439090\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 439510\n  - text: 'snatch '\n    start_ms: 439630\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 440050\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 440140\n  - text: sunrise\n    start_ms: 440230\n- text: Flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 441120\n  end_ms: 443550\n  words:\n  - text: 'Flashing '\n    start_ms: 441120\n  - text: 'buttocks '\n    start_ms: 441540\n  - text: 'under '\n    start_ms: 441990\n  - text: 'barns '\n    start_ms: 442230\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 442650\n  - text: 'naked '\n    start_ms: 442740\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 443100\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 443190\n  - text: lake\n    start_ms: 443310\n- text: Who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night cars\n  start_ms: 444920\n  end_ms: 448670\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 444920\n  - text: 'went '\n    start_ms: 445040\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 445280\n  - text: 'whoring '\n    start_ms: 445489\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 445910\n  - text: 'Colorado '\n    start_ms: 446120\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 446780\n  - text: 'myriad '\n    start_ms: 446870\n  - text: 'stolen '\n    start_ms: 447380\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 447860\n  - text: cars\n    start_ms: 448130\n- text: N.C., secret hero of these poems\n  start_ms: 450070\n  end_ms: 451810\n  words:\n  - text: N.\n    start_ms: 450070\n  - text: 'C., '\n    start_ms: 450080\n  - text: 'secret '\n    start_ms: 450100\n  - text: 'hero '\n    start_ms: 450550\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 450820\n  - text: 'these '\n    start_ms: 451030\n  - text: poems\n    start_ms: 451210\n- text: Coxman and Adonis of Denver\n  start_ms: 453260\n  end_ms: 454520\n  words:\n  - text: 'Coxman '\n    start_ms: 453260\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 453290\n  - text: 'Adonis '\n    start_ms: 453410\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 453920\n  - text: Denver\n    start_ms: 454070\n- text: Joy to the memory of his innumerable lays\n  start_ms: 455040\n  end_ms: 457200\n  words:\n  - text: 'Joy '\n    start_ms: 455040\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 455400\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 455490\n  - text: 'memory '\n    start_ms: 455580\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 456060\n  - text: 'his '\n    start_ms: 456210\n  - text: 'innumerable '\n    start_ms: 456330\n  - text: lays\n    start_ms: 456900\n- text: Of girls in empty lots and diner backyards\n  start_ms: 457260\n  end_ms: 459990\n  words:\n  - text: 'Of '\n    start_ms: 457260\n  - text: 'girls '\n    start_ms: 457380\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 457770\n  - text: 'empty '\n    start_ms: 457890\n  - text: 'lots '\n    start_ms: 458310\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 458700\n  - text: 'diner '\n    start_ms: 458850\n  - text: backyards\n    start_ms: 459240\n- text: Movie houses, rickety rows, on mountaintops, in caves\n  start_ms: 460310\n  end_ms: 463880\n  words:\n  - text: 'Movie '\n    start_ms: 460310\n  - text: 'houses, '\n    start_ms: 460610\n  - text: 'rickety '\n    start_ms: 461090\n  - text: 'rows, '\n    start_ms: 461480\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 462260\n  - text: 'mountaintops, '\n    start_ms: 462470\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 463220\n  - text: caves\n    start_ms: 463340\n- text: Or with gaunt waitresses in familiar\n  start_ms: 464260\n  end_ms: 466480\n  words:\n  - text: 'Or '\n    start_ms: 464260\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 464350\n  - text: 'gaunt '\n    start_ms: 464560\n  - text: 'waitresses '\n    start_ms: 465070\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 465790\n  - text: familiar\n    start_ms: 465910\n- text: Roadside lonely petticoat upliftings\n  start_ms: 466480\n  end_ms: 469060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Roadside '\n    start_ms: 466480\n  - text: 'lonely '\n    start_ms: 467200\n  - text: 'petticoat '\n    start_ms: 467650\n  - text: upliftings\n    start_ms: 468250\n- text: And especially secret gas station\n  start_ms: 469360\n  end_ms: 471220\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 469360\n  - text: 'especially '\n    start_ms: 469480\n  - text: 'secret '\n    start_ms: 470049\n  - text: 'gas '\n    start_ms: 470530\n  - text: station\n    start_ms: 470830\n- text: Solipsisms of johns and hometown alleys too\n  start_ms: 471950\n  end_ms: 474110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Solipsisms '\n    start_ms: 471950\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 471980\n  - text: 'johns '\n    start_ms: 472100\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 472639\n  - text: 'hometown '\n    start_ms: 472730\n  - text: 'alleys '\n    start_ms: 473390\n  - text: too\n    start_ms: 473780\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams\n  start_ms: 475830\n  end_ms: 479370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 475830\n  - text: 'faded '\n    start_ms: 475950\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 476340\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 476519\n  - text: 'vast '\n    start_ms: 476640\n  - text: 'sordid '\n    start_ms: 477030\n  - text: 'movies, '\n    start_ms: 477480\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 478230\n  - text: 'shifted '\n    start_ms: 478380\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 478830\n  - text: dreams\n    start_ms: 478950\n- text: Woke on a sudden Manhattan, picked themselves up out of basements\n  start_ms: 479740\n  end_ms: 483400\n  words:\n  - text: 'Woke '\n    start_ms: 479740\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 480070\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 480250\n  - text: 'sudden '\n    start_ms: 480309\n  - text: 'Manhattan, '\n    start_ms: 480640\n  - text: 'picked '\n    start_ms: 481630\n  - text: 'themselves '\n    start_ms: 481810\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 482350\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 482560\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 482710\n  - text: basements\n    start_ms: 482800\n- text: Hung over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams\n  start_ms: 483600\n  end_ms: 487740\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hung '\n    start_ms: 483600\n  - text: 'over '\n    start_ms: 483780\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 483990\n  - text: 'heartless '\n    start_ms: 484200\n  - text: 'Tokay '\n    start_ms: 484620\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 485520\n  - text: 'horrors '\n    start_ms: 485640\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 486090\n  - text: 'Third '\n    start_ms: 486210\n  - text: 'Avenue '\n    start_ms: 486480\n  - text: 'iron '\n    start_ms: 486870\n  - text: dreams\n    start_ms: 487230\n- text: And stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 487880\n  end_ms: 490040\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 487880\n  - text: 'stumbled '\n    start_ms: 488000\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 488569\n  - text: 'unemployment '\n    start_ms: 488780\n  - text: offices\n    start_ms: 489500\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes\n  start_ms: 491140\n  end_ms: 492790\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 491140\n  - text: 'walked '\n    start_ms: 491260\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 491590\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 491800\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 492100\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 492250\n  - text: shoes\n    start_ms: 492370\n- text: Full of blood on the snowbank docks\n  start_ms: 492790\n  end_ms: 494950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Full '\n    start_ms: 492790\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 492970\n  - text: 'blood '\n    start_ms: 493090\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 493810\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 493929\n  - text: 'snowbank '\n    start_ms: 494020\n  - text: docks\n    start_ms: 494620\n- text: Waiting for a door in the East River to\n  start_ms: 495330\n  end_ms: 497640\n  words:\n  - text: 'Waiting '\n    start_ms: 495330\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 495690\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 495870\n  - text: 'door '\n    start_ms: 495990\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 496380\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 496530\n  - text: 'East '\n    start_ms: 496680\n  - text: 'River '\n    start_ms: 496950\n  - text: to\n    start_ms: 497460\n- text: Open to a room full of steam heat and opium\n  start_ms: 497680\n  end_ms: 500200\n  words:\n  - text: 'Open '\n    start_ms: 497680\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 498100\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 498310\n  - text: 'room '\n    start_ms: 498369\n  - text: 'full '\n    start_ms: 498700\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 498970\n  - text: 'steam '\n    start_ms: 499059\n  - text: 'heat '\n    start_ms: 499390\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 499689\n  - text: opium\n    start_ms: 499810\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on\n  start_ms: 501210\n  end_ms: 503340\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 501210\n  - text: 'created '\n    start_ms: 501330\n  - text: 'great '\n    start_ms: 501810\n  - text: 'suicidal '\n    start_ms: 502080\n  - text: 'dramas '\n    start_ms: 502740\n  - text: on\n    start_ms: 503220\n- text: The apartment cliff banks of the Hudson\n  start_ms: 503460\n  end_ms: 505410\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 503460\n  - text: 'apartment '\n    start_ms: 503580\n  - text: 'cliff '\n    start_ms: 504090\n  - text: 'banks '\n    start_ms: 504360\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 504750\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 504839\n  - text: Hudson\n    start_ms: 504960\n- text: Under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon\n  start_ms: 505750\n  end_ms: 507940\n  words:\n  - text: 'Under '\n    start_ms: 505750\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 505960\n  - text: 'wartime '\n    start_ms: 506080\n  - text: 'blue '\n    start_ms: 506650\n  - text: 'floodlight '\n    start_ms: 506980\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 507460\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 507550\n  - text: moon\n    start_ms: 507640\n- text: And their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 508460\n  end_ms: 511190\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 508460\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 508610\n  - text: 'heads '\n    start_ms: 508790\n  - text: 'shall '\n    start_ms: 509090\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 509330\n  - text: 'crowned '\n    start_ms: 509480\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 509870\n  - text: 'laurel '\n    start_ms: 510050\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 510530\n  - text: oblivion\n    start_ms: 510680\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination\n  start_ms: 513020\n  end_ms: 514940\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 513020\n  - text: 'ate '\n    start_ms: 513140\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 513320\n  - text: 'lamb '\n    start_ms: 513470\n  - text: 'stew '\n    start_ms: 513709\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 514010\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 514100\n  - text: imagination\n    start_ms: 514220\n- text: Or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery\n  start_ms: 515450\n  end_ms: 518930\n  words:\n  - text: 'Or '\n    start_ms: 515450\n  - text: 'digested '\n    start_ms: 515540\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 516110\n  - text: 'crab '\n    start_ms: 516230\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 516710\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 516860\n  - text: 'muddy '\n    start_ms: 516950\n  - text: 'bottom '\n    start_ms: 517250\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 517729\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 517820\n  - text: 'rivers '\n    start_ms: 517940\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 518300\n  - text: Bowery\n    start_ms: 518390\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with\n  start_ms: 520130\n  end_ms: 522020\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 520130\n  - text: 'wept '\n    start_ms: 520216\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 520536\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 520624\n  - text: 'romance '\n    start_ms: 520712\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 521177\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 521293\n  - text: 'streets '\n    start_ms: 521409\n  - text: with\n    start_ms: 521846\n- text: Their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 522020\n  end_ms: 524570\n  words:\n  - text: 'Their '\n    start_ms: 522020\n  - text: 'pushcarts '\n    start_ms: 522140\n  - text: 'full '\n    start_ms: 522800\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 523010\n  - text: 'onions '\n    start_ms: 523100\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 523610\n  - text: 'bad '\n    start_ms: 523730\n  - text: music\n    start_ms: 524090\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge\n  start_ms: 525840\n  end_ms: 528700\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 525840\n  - text: 'sat '\n    start_ms: 525956\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 526216\n  - text: 'boxes '\n    start_ms: 526331\n  - text: 'breathing '\n    start_ms: 526822\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 527169\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 527256\n  - text: 'darkness '\n    start_ms: 527342\n  - text: 'under '\n    start_ms: 527891\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 528122\n  - text: bridge\n    start_ms: 528238\n- text: And rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts\n  start_ms: 528700\n  end_ms: 531130\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 528700\n  - text: 'rose '\n    start_ms: 528850\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 529120\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 529269\n  - text: 'build '\n    start_ms: 529420\n  - text: 'harpsichords '\n    start_ms: 529660\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 530470\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 530560\n  - text: lofts\n    start_ms: 530710\n- text: Who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame\n  start_ms: 532400\n  end_ms: 535370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 532400\n  - text: 'coughed '\n    start_ms: 532550\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 532940\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 533060\n  - text: 'sixth '\n    start_ms: 533120\n  - text: 'floor '\n    start_ms: 533510\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 533750\n  - text: 'Harlem '\n    start_ms: 533870\n  - text: 'crowned '\n    start_ms: 534320\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 534770\n  - text: flame\n    start_ms: 534950\n- text: Under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 535810\n  end_ms: 539710\n  words:\n  - text: 'Under '\n    start_ms: 535810\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 536050\n  - text: 'tubercular '\n    start_ms: 536140\n  - text: 'sky '\n    start_ms: 536740\n  - text: 'surrounded '\n    start_ms: 537550\n  - text: 'by '\n    start_ms: 538060\n  - text: 'orange '\n    start_ms: 538270\n  - text: 'crates '\n    start_ms: 538600\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 539020\n  - text: theology\n    start_ms: 539080\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations\n  start_ms: 540920\n  end_ms: 544460\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 540920\n  - text: 'scribbled '\n    start_ms: 541010\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 541520\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 541700\n  - text: 'rocking '\n    start_ms: 541970\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 542360\n  - text: 'rolling '\n    start_ms: 542480\n  - text: 'over '\n    start_ms: 542840\n  - text: 'lofty '\n    start_ms: 543050\n  - text: incantations\n    start_ms: 543560\n- text: Which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 544530\n  end_ms: 547170\n  words:\n  - text: 'Which '\n    start_ms: 544530\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 544860\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 544980\n  - text: 'yellow '\n    start_ms: 545040\n  - text: 'morning '\n    start_ms: 545400\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 545790\n  - text: 'stanzas '\n    start_ms: 545940\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 546570\n  - text: gibberish\n    start_ms: 546720\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals, lung, heart\n  start_ms: 548990\n  end_ms: 550980\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 548990\n  - text: 'cooked '\n    start_ms: 549107\n  - text: 'rotten '\n    start_ms: 549370\n  - text: 'animals, '\n    start_ms: 549692\n  - text: 'lung, '\n    start_ms: 550219\n  - text: heart\n    start_ms: 550600\n- text: Feet, tail, borscht and tortillas\n  start_ms: 550980\n  end_ms: 553050\n  words:\n  - text: 'Feet, '\n    start_ms: 550980\n  - text: 'tail, '\n    start_ms: 551280\n  - text: 'borscht '\n    start_ms: 552210\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 552240\n  - text: tortillas\n    start_ms: 552360\n- text: Dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 553070\n  end_ms: 555110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Dreaming '\n    start_ms: 553070\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 553430\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 553550\n  - text: 'pure '\n    start_ms: 553639\n  - text: 'vegetable '\n    start_ms: 554060\n  - text: kingdom\n    start_ms: 554600\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556150\n  end_ms: 559000\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 556150\n  - text: 'plunged '\n    start_ms: 556300\n  - text: 'themselves '\n    start_ms: 556690\n  - text: 'under '\n    start_ms: 557200\n  - text: 'meat '\n    start_ms: 557440\n  - text: 'trucks '\n    start_ms: 557710\n  - text: 'looking '\n    start_ms: 558100\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 558429\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 558640\n  - text: egg\n    start_ms: 558730\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast\n  start_ms: 560600\n  end_ms: 562940\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 560600\n  - text: 'threw '\n    start_ms: 560690\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 560960\n  - text: 'watches '\n    start_ms: 561110\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 561500\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 561680\n  - text: 'roof '\n    start_ms: 561800\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 562460\n  - text: cast\n    start_ms: 562610\n- text: Their ballot for eternity outside of time\n  start_ms: 563030\n  end_ms: 565220\n  words:\n  - text: 'Their '\n    start_ms: 563030\n  - text: 'ballot '\n    start_ms: 563180\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 563540\n  - text: 'eternity '\n    start_ms: 563780\n  - text: 'outside '\n    start_ms: 564290\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 564770\n  - text: time\n    start_ms: 564860\n- text: And alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 565540\n  end_ms: 568600\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 565540\n  - text: 'alarm '\n    start_ms: 565660\n  - text: 'clocks '\n    start_ms: 565990\n  - text: 'fell '\n    start_ms: 566410\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 566590\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 566740\n  - text: 'heads '\n    start_ms: 566860\n  - text: 'every '\n    start_ms: 567160\n  - text: 'day '\n    start_ms: 567400\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 567670\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 567760\n  - text: 'next '\n    start_ms: 567850\n  - text: decade\n    start_ms: 568120\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times unsuccessfully\n  start_ms: 569760\n  end_ms: 572280\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 569760\n  - text: 'cut '\n    start_ms: 569880\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 570120\n  - text: 'wrists '\n    start_ms: 570300\n  - text: 'three '\n    start_ms: 570630\n  - text: 'times '\n    start_ms: 570870\n  - text: unsuccessfully\n    start_ms: 571320\n- text: Gave up and were forced to open antique stores\n  start_ms: 572700\n  end_ms: 575180\n  words:\n  - text: 'Gave '\n    start_ms: 572700\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 572933\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 573400\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 573488\n  - text: 'forced '\n    start_ms: 573604\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 573954\n  - text: 'open '\n    start_ms: 574071\n  - text: 'antique '\n    start_ms: 574333\n  - text: stores\n    start_ms: 574742\n- text: Where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 575180\n  end_ms: 577190\n  words:\n  - text: 'Where '\n    start_ms: 575180\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 575330\n  - text: 'thought '\n    start_ms: 575450\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 575690\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 575810\n  - text: 'growing '\n    start_ms: 575930\n  - text: 'old '\n    start_ms: 576230\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 576620\n  - text: cried\n    start_ms: 576740\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent\n  start_ms: 578300\n  end_ms: 580070\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 578300\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 578360\n  - text: 'burned '\n    start_ms: 578570\n  - text: 'alive '\n    start_ms: 578930\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 579380\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 579470\n  - text: innocent\n    start_ms: 579590\n- text: Flannel suits on Madison Avenue\n  start_ms: 580090\n  end_ms: 581950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Flannel '\n    start_ms: 580090\n  - text: 'suits '\n    start_ms: 580510\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 580930\n  - text: 'Madison '\n    start_ms: 581080\n  - text: Avenue\n    start_ms: 581500\n- text: Amid blasts of leaden verse and the tanked-\n  start_ms: 582460\n  end_ms: 585370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Amid '\n    start_ms: 582460\n  - text: 'blasts '\n    start_ms: 582730\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 583330\n  - text: 'leaden '\n    start_ms: 583450\n  - text: 'verse '\n    start_ms: 583900\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 584830\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 584920\n  - text: tanked-\n    start_ms: 585010\n- text: Up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion\n  start_ms: 585540\n  end_ms: 588060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Up '\n    start_ms: 585540\n  - text: 'clatter '\n    start_ms: 585870\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 586260\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 586320\n  - text: 'iron '\n    start_ms: 586500\n  - text: 'regiments '\n    start_ms: 586890\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 587490\n  - text: fashion\n    start_ms: 587580\n- text: And the nitroglycerin shrieks of the fairies of advertising\n  start_ms: 588400\n  end_ms: 591910\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 588400\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 588520\n  - text: 'nitroglycerin '\n    start_ms: 588580\n  - text: 'shrieks '\n    start_ms: 589600\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 590170\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 590260\n  - text: 'fairies '\n    start_ms: 590409\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 590950\n  - text: advertising\n    start_ms: 591070\n- text: And the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors\n  start_ms: 592390\n  end_ms: 595330\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 592390\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 592510\n  - text: 'mustard '\n    start_ms: 592570\n  - text: 'gas '\n    start_ms: 593020\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 593440\n  - text: 'sinister '\n    start_ms: 593529\n  - text: 'intelligent '\n    start_ms: 594100\n  - text: editors\n    start_ms: 594820\n- text: Or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of absolute reality\n  start_ms: 595730\n  end_ms: 599120\n  words:\n  - text: 'Or '\n    start_ms: 595730\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 595910\n  - text: 'run '\n    start_ms: 596060\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 596270\n  - text: 'by '\n    start_ms: 596570\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 596720\n  - text: 'drunken '\n    start_ms: 596810\n  - text: 'taxicabs '\n    start_ms: 597230\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 598009\n  - text: 'absolute '\n    start_ms: 598130\n  - text: reality\n    start_ms: 598610\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 600400\n  end_ms: 601810\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 600400\n  - text: 'jumped '\n    start_ms: 600490\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 600820\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 601000\n  - text: 'Brooklyn '\n    start_ms: 601120\n  - text: Bridge\n    start_ms: 601510\n- text: And walked away unknown and forgotten\n  start_ms: 601860\n  end_ms: 603780\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 601860\n  - text: 'walked '\n    start_ms: 601950\n  - text: 'away '\n    start_ms: 602280\n  - text: 'unknown '\n    start_ms: 602580\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 602970\n  - text: forgotten\n    start_ms: 603240\n- text: Into the ghostly days of Chinatown soup, alleyways and fire trucks\n  start_ms: 603790\n  end_ms: 607690\n  words:\n  - text: 'Into '\n    start_ms: 603790\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 604000\n  - text: 'ghostly '\n    start_ms: 604120\n  - text: 'days '\n    start_ms: 604570\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 604900\n  - text: 'Chinatown '\n    start_ms: 604990\n  - text: 'soup, '\n    start_ms: 605680\n  - text: 'alleyways '\n    start_ms: 606190\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 606790\n  - text: 'fire '\n    start_ms: 606910\n  - text: trucks\n    start_ms: 607270\n- text: Not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 607970\n  end_ms: 609050\n  words:\n  - text: 'Not '\n    start_ms: 607970\n  - text: 'even '\n    start_ms: 608120\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 608300\n  - text: 'free '\n    start_ms: 608539\n  - text: beer\n    start_ms: 608780\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway\n  start_ms: 610190\n  end_ms: 613520\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 610190\n  - text: 'sang '\n    start_ms: 610250\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 610610\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 610730\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 610820\n  - text: 'windows '\n    start_ms: 610940\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 611390\n  - text: 'despair, '\n    start_ms: 611510\n  - text: 'fell '\n    start_ms: 612469\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 612680\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 612830\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 612890\n  - text: subway\n    start_ms: 612980\n- text: Jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped\n  start_ms: 614240\n  end_ms: 616400\n  words:\n  - text: 'Jumped '\n    start_ms: 614240\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 614600\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 614690\n  - text: 'filthy '\n    start_ms: 614750\n  - text: 'Passaic, '\n    start_ms: 615080\n  - text: leaped\n    start_ms: 616070\n- text: On Negroes, cried all over the street\n  start_ms: 616410\n  end_ms: 618540\n  words:\n  - text: 'On '\n    start_ms: 616410\n  - text: 'Negroes, '\n    start_ms: 616560\n  - text: 'cried '\n    start_ms: 617400\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 617730\n  - text: 'over '\n    start_ms: 617910\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 618060\n  - text: street\n    start_ms: 618180\n- text: Danced on broken wine glasses barefoot\n  start_ms: 619020\n  end_ms: 621120\n  words:\n  - text: 'Danced '\n    start_ms: 619020\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 619350\n  - text: 'broken '\n    start_ms: 619530\n  - text: 'wine '\n    start_ms: 619860\n  - text: 'glasses '\n    start_ms: 620159\n  - text: barefoot\n    start_ms: 620610\n- text: Smashed phonograph records of nostalgic 1930s European German jazz\n  start_ms: 621200\n  end_ms: 625640\n  words:\n  - text: 'Smashed '\n    start_ms: 621200\n  - text: 'phonograph '\n    start_ms: 621650\n  - text: 'records '\n    start_ms: 622310\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 622670\n  - text: 'nostalgic '\n    start_ms: 622760\n  - text: '1930s '\n    start_ms: 624229\n  - text: 'European '\n    start_ms: 624260\n  - text: 'German '\n    start_ms: 624830\n  - text: jazz\n    start_ms: 625220\n- text: Finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet\n  start_ms: 626010\n  end_ms: 629280\n  words:\n  - text: 'Finished '\n    start_ms: 626010\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 626340\n  - text: 'whiskey '\n    start_ms: 626460\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 626850\n  - text: 'threw '\n    start_ms: 626940\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 627180\n  - text: 'groaning '\n    start_ms: 627840\n  - text: 'into '\n    start_ms: 628230\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 628410\n  - text: 'bloody '\n    start_ms: 628530\n  - text: toilet\n    start_ms: 628860\n- text: Moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steam whistles\n  start_ms: 629720\n  end_ms: 632750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moans '\n    start_ms: 629720\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 630140\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 630230\n  - text: 'ears '\n    start_ms: 630470\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 630859\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 630950\n  - text: 'blast '\n    start_ms: 631040\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 631460\n  - text: 'colossal '\n    start_ms: 631550\n  - text: 'steam '\n    start_ms: 632060\n  - text: whistles\n    start_ms: 632360\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past\n  start_ms: 633900\n  end_ms: 635850\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 633900\n  - text: 'barreled '\n    start_ms: 634020\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 634410\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 634650\n  - text: 'highways '\n    start_ms: 634770\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 635279\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 635370\n  - text: past\n    start_ms: 635490\n- text: Journeying to each other's hot rod Golgotha jail solitude watch\n  start_ms: 636530\n  end_ms: 640460\n  words:\n  - text: 'Journeying '\n    start_ms: 636530\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 637160\n  - text: 'each '\n    start_ms: 637340\n  - text: 'other''s '\n    start_ms: 637580\n  - text: 'hot '\n    start_ms: 637970\n  - text: 'rod '\n    start_ms: 638210\n  - text: 'Golgotha '\n    start_ms: 638539\n  - text: 'jail '\n    start_ms: 639140\n  - text: 'solitude '\n    start_ms: 639559\n  - text: watch\n    start_ms: 640190\n- text: Or Birmingham blues incarnation\n  start_ms: 640660\n  end_ms: 642610\n  words:\n  - text: 'Or '\n    start_ms: 640660\n  - text: 'Birmingham '\n    start_ms: 640780\n  - text: 'blues '\n    start_ms: 641500\n  - text: incarnation\n    start_ms: 641860\n- text: Who drove cross-country seventy-two\n  start_ms: 643910\n  end_ms: 645560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 643910\n  - text: 'drove '\n    start_ms: 644030\n  - text: cross-\n    start_ms: 644330\n  - text: 'country '\n    start_ms: 644630\n  - text: seventy-\n    start_ms: 645020\n  - text: two\n    start_ms: 645380\n- text: Hours to find out if I had a vision\n  start_ms: 645620\n  end_ms: 647390\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hours '\n    start_ms: 645620\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 645950\n  - text: 'find '\n    start_ms: 646040\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 646340\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 646490\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 646670\n  - text: 'had '\n    start_ms: 646790\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 646999\n  - text: vision\n    start_ms: 647060\n- text: Or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out eternity\n  start_ms: 647530\n  end_ms: 651130\n  words:\n  - text: 'Or '\n    start_ms: 647530\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 647650\n  - text: 'had '\n    start_ms: 647890\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 648040\n  - text: 'vision '\n    start_ms: 648070\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 648580\n  - text: 'he '\n    start_ms: 648700\n  - text: 'had '\n    start_ms: 648940\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 649090\n  - text: 'vision '\n    start_ms: 649120\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 649809\n  - text: 'find '\n    start_ms: 649960\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 650290\n  - text: eternity\n    start_ms: 650560\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver\n  start_ms: 651850\n  end_ms: 654160\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 651850\n  - text: 'journeyed '\n    start_ms: 651940\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 652330\n  - text: 'Denver, '\n    start_ms: 652450\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 653229\n  - text: 'died '\n    start_ms: 653320\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 653620\n  - text: Denver\n    start_ms: 653740\n- text: Who came back to Denver and waited in vain\n  start_ms: 654420\n  end_ms: 656730\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 654420\n  - text: 'came '\n    start_ms: 654540\n  - text: 'back '\n    start_ms: 654810\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 655050\n  - text: 'Denver '\n    start_ms: 655170\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 655680\n  - text: 'waited '\n    start_ms: 655890\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 656220\n  - text: vain\n    start_ms: 656370\n- text: Who watched over Denver and brooded and loamed in Denver\n  start_ms: 657260\n  end_ms: 660530\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 657260\n  - text: 'watched '\n    start_ms: 657440\n  - text: 'over '\n    start_ms: 657829\n  - text: 'Denver '\n    start_ms: 658100\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 658610\n  - text: 'brooded '\n    start_ms: 658820\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 659330\n  - text: 'loamed '\n    start_ms: 659930\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 659960\n  - text: Denver\n    start_ms: 660080\n- text: And finally went away to find out the time\n  start_ms: 660800\n  end_ms: 663020\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 660800\n  - text: 'finally '\n    start_ms: 660920\n  - text: 'went '\n    start_ms: 661400\n  - text: 'away '\n    start_ms: 661700\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 661970\n  - text: 'find '\n    start_ms: 662090\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 662360\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 662510\n  - text: time\n    start_ms: 662630\n- text: And now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 663490\n  end_ms: 666340\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 663490\n  - text: 'now '\n    start_ms: 663670\n  - text: 'Denver '\n    start_ms: 664150\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 664660\n  - text: 'lonesome '\n    start_ms: 664869\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 665410\n  - text: 'her '\n    start_ms: 665650\n  - text: heroes\n    start_ms: 665890\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals\n  start_ms: 667850\n  end_ms: 670130\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 667850\n  - text: 'fell '\n    start_ms: 667940\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 668210\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 668390\n  - text: 'knees '\n    start_ms: 668539\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 668930\n  - text: 'hopeless '\n    start_ms: 669050\n  - text: cathedrals\n    start_ms: 669470\n- text: Praying for each other's salvation and light and breath\n  start_ms: 670680\n  end_ms: 674220\n  words:\n  - text: 'Praying '\n    start_ms: 670680\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 671100\n  - text: 'each '\n    start_ms: 671280\n  - text: 'other''s '\n    start_ms: 671490\n  - text: 'salvation '\n    start_ms: 671820\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 672870\n  - text: 'light '\n    start_ms: 673110\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 673740\n  - text: breath\n    start_ms: 673890\n- text: Until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 674390\n  end_ms: 677150\n  words:\n  - text: 'Until '\n    start_ms: 674390\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 674750\n  - text: 'soul '\n    start_ms: 674840\n  - text: 'illuminated '\n    start_ms: 675320\n  - text: 'its '\n    start_ms: 675950\n  - text: 'hair '\n    start_ms: 676160\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 676460\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 676669\n  - text: second\n    start_ms: 676730\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail\n  start_ms: 678050\n  end_ms: 679880\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 678050\n  - text: 'crashed '\n    start_ms: 678200\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 678650\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 678830\n  - text: 'minds '\n    start_ms: 678950\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 679340\n  - text: jail\n    start_ms: 679460\n- text: Waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads\n  start_ms: 680440\n  end_ms: 683140\n  words:\n  - text: 'Waiting '\n    start_ms: 680440\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 680766\n  - text: 'impossible '\n    start_ms: 680915\n  - text: 'criminals '\n    start_ms: 681567\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 682161\n  - text: 'golden '\n    start_ms: 682309\n  - text: heads\n    start_ms: 682754\n- text: And the charm of reality in their hearts\n  start_ms: 683140\n  end_ms: 685210\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 683140\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 683260\n  - text: 'charm '\n    start_ms: 683350\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 683800\n  - text: 'reality '\n    start_ms: 683920\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 684460\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 684550\n  - text: hearts\n    start_ms: 684730\n- text: Who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 685540\n  end_ms: 687820\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 685540\n  - text: 'sang '\n    start_ms: 685630\n  - text: 'sweet '\n    start_ms: 686080\n  - text: 'blues '\n    start_ms: 686530\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 686980\n  - text: Alcatraz\n    start_ms: 687130\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit\n  start_ms: 689240\n  end_ms: 691460\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 689240\n  - text: 'retired '\n    start_ms: 689360\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 689840\n  - text: 'Mexico '\n    start_ms: 689960\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 690470\n  - text: 'cultivate '\n    start_ms: 690590\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 691070\n  - text: habit\n    start_ms: 691190\n- text: Or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha\n  start_ms: 692180\n  end_ms: 693950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Or '\n    start_ms: 692180\n  - text: 'Rocky '\n    start_ms: 692270\n  - text: 'Mount '\n    start_ms: 692600\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 693080\n  - text: 'tender '\n    start_ms: 693230\n  - text: Buddha\n    start_ms: 693590\n- text: Or Tangiers to boy\n  start_ms: 694240\n  end_ms: 695500\n  words:\n  - text: 'Or '\n    start_ms: 694240\n  - text: 'Tangiers '\n    start_ms: 694390\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 695110\n  - text: boy\n    start_ms: 695170\n- text: Or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive\n  start_ms: 696010\n  end_ms: 698230\n  words:\n  - text: 'Or '\n    start_ms: 696010\n  - text: 'Southern '\n    start_ms: 696160\n  - text: 'Pacific '\n    start_ms: 696550\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 697060\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 697210\n  - text: 'black '\n    start_ms: 697330\n  - text: locomotive\n    start_ms: 697630\n- text: Or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn or grave\n  start_ms: 698770\n  end_ms: 701560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Or '\n    start_ms: 698770\n  - text: 'Harvard '\n    start_ms: 698950\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 699520\n  - text: 'Narcissus '\n    start_ms: 699700\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 700360\n  - text: 'Woodlawn '\n    start_ms: 700510\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 701080\n  - text: grave\n    start_ms: 701170\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism\n  start_ms: 702420\n  end_ms: 705870\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 702420\n  - text: 'demanded '\n    start_ms: 702540\n  - text: 'sanity '\n    start_ms: 703080\n  - text: 'trials '\n    start_ms: 703530\n  - text: 'accusing '\n    start_ms: 704040\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 704580\n  - text: 'radio '\n    start_ms: 704640\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 704970\n  - text: hypnotism\n    start_ms: 705150\n- text: And were left with their insanity and their hands and a hung jury\n  start_ms: 706220\n  end_ms: 709520\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 706220\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 706370\n  - text: 'left '\n    start_ms: 706490\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 706789\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 706909\n  - text: 'insanity '\n    start_ms: 707030\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 707720\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 707840\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 707990\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 708530\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 708740\n  - text: 'hung '\n    start_ms: 708890\n  - text: jury\n    start_ms: 709130\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism\n  start_ms: 710740\n  end_ms: 713680\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 710740\n  - text: 'threw '\n    start_ms: 710800\n  - text: 'potato '\n    start_ms: 711070\n  - text: 'salad '\n    start_ms: 711490\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 711910\n  - text: 'CCNY '\n    start_ms: 712930\n  - text: 'lecturers '\n    start_ms: 712960\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 713530\n  - text: Dadaism\n    start_ms: 713650\n- text: And subsequently presented themselves\n  start_ms: 714860\n  end_ms: 716870\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 714860\n  - text: 'subsequently '\n    start_ms: 714980\n  - text: 'presented '\n    start_ms: 715760\n  - text: themselves\n    start_ms: 716240\n- text: On the granite steps of the madhouse\n  start_ms: 716870\n  end_ms: 719000\n  words:\n  - text: 'On '\n    start_ms: 716870\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 717050\n  - text: 'granite '\n    start_ms: 717140\n  - text: 'steps '\n    start_ms: 717559\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 718070\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 718190\n  - text: madhouse\n    start_ms: 718280\n- text: With shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide\n  start_ms: 719390\n  end_ms: 722750\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 719390\n  - text: 'shaven '\n    start_ms: 719570\n  - text: 'heads '\n    start_ms: 719990\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 720740\n  - text: 'harlequin '\n    start_ms: 720890\n  - text: 'speech '\n    start_ms: 721460\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 721940\n  - text: suicide\n    start_ms: 722090\n- text: Demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 723080\n  end_ms: 724970\n  words:\n  - text: 'Demanding '\n    start_ms: 723080\n  - text: 'instantaneous '\n    start_ms: 723560\n  - text: lobotomy\n    start_ms: 724400\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin\n  start_ms: 726420\n  end_ms: 728820\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 726420\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 726508\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 726625\n  - text: 'given '\n    start_ms: 726771\n  - text: 'instead '\n    start_ms: 727064\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 727532\n  - text: 'concrete '\n    start_ms: 727649\n  - text: 'void '\n    start_ms: 728293\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 728644\n  - text: insulin\n    start_ms: 728791\n- text: Metrisol, electricity, hydrotherapy, psychotherapy\n  start_ms: 728820\n  end_ms: 732420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Metrisol, '\n    start_ms: 728820\n  - text: 'electricity, '\n    start_ms: 729930\n  - text: 'hydrotherapy, '\n    start_ms: 731490\n  - text: psychotherapy\n    start_ms: 731520\n- text: Occupational therapy, ping-pong and amnesiaWho in humorless\n  start_ms: 732480\n  end_ms: 737910\n  words:\n  - text: 'Occupational '\n    start_ms: 732480\n  - text: 'therapy, '\n    start_ms: 733200\n  - text: ping-\n    start_ms: 733650\n  - text: 'pong '\n    start_ms: 733950\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 734340\n  - text: 'amnesiaWho '\n    start_ms: 737160\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 737190\n  - text: humorless\n    start_ms: 737340\n- text: Protest overturned only one symbolic ping-pong table\n  start_ms: 737980\n  end_ms: 741190\n  words:\n  - text: 'Protest '\n    start_ms: 737980\n  - text: 'overturned '\n    start_ms: 738549\n  - text: 'only '\n    start_ms: 739119\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 739480\n  - text: 'symbolic '\n    start_ms: 739750\n  - text: ping-\n    start_ms: 740260\n  - text: 'pong '\n    start_ms: 740500\n  - text: table\n    start_ms: 740800\n- text: Resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 741500\n  end_ms: 743600\n  words:\n  - text: 'Resting '\n    start_ms: 741500\n  - text: 'briefly '\n    start_ms: 741950\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 742400\n  - text: catatonia\n    start_ms: 743570\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood\n  start_ms: 744000\n  end_ms: 747390\n  words:\n  - text: 'Returning '\n    start_ms: 744000\n  - text: 'years '\n    start_ms: 744480\n  - text: 'later '\n    start_ms: 744810\n  - text: 'truly '\n    start_ms: 745260\n  - text: 'bald '\n    start_ms: 745650\n  - text: 'except '\n    start_ms: 746009\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 746430\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 746610\n  - text: 'wig '\n    start_ms: 746670\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 746910\n  - text: blood\n    start_ms: 747030\n- text: Tears and fingers\n  start_ms: 747960\n  end_ms: 748980\n  words:\n  - text: 'Tears '\n    start_ms: 747960\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 748380\n  - text: fingers\n    start_ms: 748500\n- text: To the visible madman doom of the wards of the mad towns of the East\n  start_ms: 749430\n  end_ms: 753120\n  words:\n  - text: 'To '\n    start_ms: 749430\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 749550\n  - text: 'visible '\n    start_ms: 749640\n  - text: 'madman '\n    start_ms: 750090\n  - text: 'doom '\n    start_ms: 750630\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 750900\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 750990\n  - text: 'wards '\n    start_ms: 751110\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 751590\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 751709\n  - text: 'mad '\n    start_ms: 751800\n  - text: 'towns '\n    start_ms: 752070\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 752610\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 752700\n  - text: East\n    start_ms: 752760\n- text: Pilgrim states, Rocklands and Greystones fetid halls\n  start_ms: 753860\n  end_ms: 757520\n  words:\n  - text: 'Pilgrim '\n    start_ms: 753860\n  - text: 'states, '\n    start_ms: 754400\n  - text: 'Rocklands '\n    start_ms: 755510\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 755840\n  - text: 'Greystones '\n    start_ms: 755960\n  - text: 'fetid '\n    start_ms: 756710\n  - text: halls\n    start_ms: 757100\n- text: Bickering with echoes of the soul\n  start_ms: 758120\n  end_ms: 759950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bickering '\n    start_ms: 758120\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 758570\n  - text: 'echoes '\n    start_ms: 758750\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 759230\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 759350\n  - text: soul\n    start_ms: 759410\n- text: Rocking and rolling in the midnight\n  start_ms: 760350\n  end_ms: 762180\n  words:\n  - text: 'Rocking '\n    start_ms: 760350\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 760830\n  - text: 'rolling '\n    start_ms: 761010\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 761430\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 761520\n  - text: midnight\n    start_ms: 761640\n- text: Solitude bench dolmen realms of love\n  start_ms: 762250\n  end_ms: 764770\n  words:\n  - text: 'Solitude '\n    start_ms: 762250\n  - text: 'bench '\n    start_ms: 762910\n  - text: 'dolmen '\n    start_ms: 763330\n  - text: 'realms '\n    start_ms: 763780\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 764259\n  - text: love\n    start_ms: 764410\n- text: Dream of night, dream of life a nightmare\n  start_ms: 765180\n  end_ms: 767820\n  words:\n  - text: 'Dream '\n    start_ms: 765180\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 765510\n  - text: 'night, '\n    start_ms: 765690\n  - text: 'dream '\n    start_ms: 766290\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 766590\n  - text: 'life '\n    start_ms: 766740\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 767130\n  - text: nightmare\n    start_ms: 767190\n- text: Bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 768170\n  end_ms: 770540\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bodies '\n    start_ms: 768170\n  - text: 'turned '\n    start_ms: 768620\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 768950\n  - text: 'stone '\n    start_ms: 769040\n  - text: 'as '\n    start_ms: 769490\n  - text: 'heavy '\n    start_ms: 769670\n  - text: 'as '\n    start_ms: 770000\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 770150\n  - text: moon\n    start_ms: 770270\n- text: With mother finally and the last fantastic\n  start_ms: 770760\n  end_ms: 773470\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 770760\n  - text: 'mother '\n    start_ms: 770966\n  - text: 'finally '\n    start_ms: 771349\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 772086\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 772233\n  - text: 'last '\n    start_ms: 772321\n  - text: fantastic\n    start_ms: 772733\n- text: Book flung out of the tenement window\n  start_ms: 773470\n  end_ms: 775450\n  words:\n  - text: 'Book '\n    start_ms: 773470\n  - text: 'flung '\n    start_ms: 773740\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 774130\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 774310\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 774370\n  - text: 'tenement '\n    start_ms: 774490\n  - text: window\n    start_ms: 774970\n- text: And the last door closed at 4 a.m.\n  start_ms: 775860\n  end_ms: 777990\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 775860\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 775950\n  - text: 'last '\n    start_ms: 776040\n  - text: 'door '\n    start_ms: 776400\n  - text: 'closed '\n    start_ms: 776730\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 777150\n  - text: '4 '\n    start_ms: 777420\n  - text: a.\n    start_ms: 777600\n  - text: m.\n    start_ms: 777794\n- text: And the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply\n  start_ms: 778420\n  end_ms: 781150\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 778420\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 778570\n  - text: 'last '\n    start_ms: 778660\n  - text: 'telephone '\n    start_ms: 778960\n  - text: 'slammed '\n    start_ms: 779530\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 780040\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 780160\n  - text: 'wall '\n    start_ms: 780250\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 780520\n  - text: reply\n    start_ms: 780610\n- text: And the last furnished room emptied down\n  start_ms: 781510\n  end_ms: 783640\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 781510\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 781630\n  - text: 'last '\n    start_ms: 781720\n  - text: 'furnished '\n    start_ms: 782079\n  - text: 'room '\n    start_ms: 782530\n  - text: 'emptied '\n    start_ms: 782920\n  - text: down\n    start_ms: 783280\n- text: To the last piece of mental furniture\n  start_ms: 783650\n  end_ms: 785660\n  words:\n  - text: 'To '\n    start_ms: 783650\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 783800\n  - text: 'last '\n    start_ms: 783890\n  - text: 'piece '\n    start_ms: 784219\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 784580\n  - text: 'mental '\n    start_ms: 784700\n  - text: furniture\n    start_ms: 785060\n- text: A yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet\n  start_ms: 786040\n  end_ms: 789550\n  words:\n  - text: 'A '\n    start_ms: 786040\n  - text: 'yellow '\n    start_ms: 786130\n  - text: 'paper '\n    start_ms: 786520\n  - text: 'rose '\n    start_ms: 786910\n  - text: 'twisted '\n    start_ms: 787360\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 787810\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 787960\n  - text: 'wire '\n    start_ms: 787990\n  - text: 'hanger '\n    start_ms: 788500\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 788890\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 788980\n  - text: closet\n    start_ms: 789070\n- text: And even that imaginary\n  start_ms: 789980\n  end_ms: 791390\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 789980\n  - text: 'even '\n    start_ms: 790100\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 790400\n  - text: imaginary\n    start_ms: 790670\n- text: Nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination\n  start_ms: 791750\n  end_ms: 793970\n  words:\n  - text: 'Nothing '\n    start_ms: 791750\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 792050\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 792200\n  - text: 'hopeful '\n    start_ms: 792290\n  - text: 'little '\n    start_ms: 792740\n  - text: 'bit '\n    start_ms: 792950\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 793129\n  - text: hallucination\n    start_ms: 793340\n- text: Ah Carl, while you are not safe, I am not safe\n  start_ms: 794890\n  end_ms: 798760\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ah '\n    start_ms: 794890\n  - text: 'Carl, '\n    start_ms: 795310\n  - text: 'while '\n    start_ms: 796300\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 796570\n  - text: 'are '\n    start_ms: 796720\n  - text: 'not '\n    start_ms: 796810\n  - text: 'safe, '\n    start_ms: 797020\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 797860\n  - text: 'am '\n    start_ms: 798040\n  - text: 'not '\n    start_ms: 798190\n  - text: safe\n    start_ms: 798430\n- text: And now you're really in the total animal soup of time\n  start_ms: 799220\n  end_ms: 802550\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 799220\n  - text: 'now '\n    start_ms: 799340\n  - text: 'you''re '\n    start_ms: 799940\n  - text: 'really '\n    start_ms: 800090\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 800450\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 800510\n  - text: 'total '\n    start_ms: 800600\n  - text: 'animal '\n    start_ms: 801080\n  - text: 'soup '\n    start_ms: 801470\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 802010\n  - text: time\n    start_ms: 802100\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets\n  start_ms: 803680\n  end_ms: 807160\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 803680\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 803920\n  - text: 'therefore '\n    start_ms: 804430\n  - text: 'ran '\n    start_ms: 805600\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 805990\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 806230\n  - text: 'icy '\n    start_ms: 806350\n  - text: streets\n    start_ms: 806740\n- text: Obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse\n  start_ms: 807930\n  end_ms: 812970\n  words:\n  - text: 'Obsessed '\n    start_ms: 807930\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 809010\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 809160\n  - text: 'sudden '\n    start_ms: 809220\n  - text: 'flash '\n    start_ms: 809610\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 810540\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 810660\n  - text: 'alchemy '\n    start_ms: 810840\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 811440\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 811560\n  - text: 'use '\n    start_ms: 811620\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 812100\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 812250\n  - text: ellipse\n    start_ms: 812460\n- text: The catalog, the meter, the vibrating plane, the truth of poetry\n  start_ms: 813380\n  end_ms: 818180\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 813380\n  - text: 'catalog, '\n    start_ms: 813500\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 814550\n  - text: 'meter, '\n    start_ms: 814670\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 815450\n  - text: 'vibrating '\n    start_ms: 815570\n  - text: 'plane, '\n    start_ms: 816170\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 816920\n  - text: 'truth '\n    start_ms: 817040\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 817460\n  - text: poetry\n    start_ms: 817580\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in\n  start_ms: 819250\n  end_ms: 821730\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 819250\n  - text: 'dreamt '\n    start_ms: 819399\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 819967\n  - text: 'made '\n    start_ms: 820117\n  - text: 'incarnate '\n    start_ms: 820385\n  - text: 'gaps '\n    start_ms: 821073\n  - text: in\n    start_ms: 821551\n- text: Time and space through images juxtaposed\n  start_ms: 821730\n  end_ms: 824760\n  words:\n  - text: 'Time '\n    start_ms: 821730\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 822240\n  - text: 'space '\n    start_ms: 822420\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 823140\n  - text: 'images '\n    start_ms: 823320\n  - text: juxtaposed\n    start_ms: 823800\n- text: And trapped the archangel of the soul between two visual imagers\n  start_ms: 825270\n  end_ms: 828810\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 825270\n  - text: 'trapped '\n    start_ms: 825420\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 825959\n  - text: 'archangel '\n    start_ms: 826110\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 826770\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 826890\n  - text: 'soul '\n    start_ms: 827040\n  - text: 'between '\n    start_ms: 827700\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 828150\n  - text: 'visual '\n    start_ms: 828360\n  - text: imagers\n    start_ms: 828780\n- text: And joined the elemental verbs and set the\n  start_ms: 830170\n  end_ms: 832750\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 830170\n  - text: 'joined '\n    start_ms: 830348\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 830763\n  - text: 'elemental '\n    start_ms: 831000\n  - text: 'verbs '\n    start_ms: 831504\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 832068\n  - text: 'set '\n    start_ms: 832246\n  - text: the\n    start_ms: 832602\n- text: Noun and dash of consciousness together\n  start_ms: 832750\n  end_ms: 835300\n  words:\n  - text: 'Noun '\n    start_ms: 832750\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 833230\n  - text: 'dash '\n    start_ms: 833500\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 833980\n  - text: 'consciousness '\n    start_ms: 834100\n  - text: together\n    start_ms: 834850\n- text: Jumping with sensation of Pater omnipotens aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 835660\n  end_ms: 839470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Jumping '\n    start_ms: 835660\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 836140\n  - text: 'sensation '\n    start_ms: 836320\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 837010\n  - text: 'Pater '\n    start_ms: 837130\n  - text: 'omnipotens '\n    start_ms: 837610\n  - text: 'aeterna '\n    start_ms: 838480\n  - text: Deus\n    start_ms: 839110\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose\n  start_ms: 840560\n  end_ms: 844940\n  words:\n  - text: 'To '\n    start_ms: 840560\n  - text: 'recreate '\n    start_ms: 840740\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 841730\n  - text: 'syntax '\n    start_ms: 841790\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 842540\n  - text: 'measure '\n    start_ms: 842720\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 843500\n  - text: 'poor '\n    start_ms: 843620\n  - text: 'human '\n    start_ms: 844010\n  - text: prose\n    start_ms: 844490\n- text: And stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame\n  start_ms: 845650\n  end_ms: 850210\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 845650\n  - text: 'stand '\n    start_ms: 845860\n  - text: 'before '\n    start_ms: 846280\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 846700\n  - text: 'speechless '\n    start_ms: 846940\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 847840\n  - text: 'intelligent '\n    start_ms: 848050\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 849040\n  - text: 'shaking '\n    start_ms: 849160\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 849640\n  - text: shame\n    start_ms: 849790\n- text: Rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to\n  start_ms: 850660\n  end_ms: 854320\n  words:\n  - text: 'Rejected '\n    start_ms: 850660\n  - text: 'yet '\n    start_ms: 851374\n  - text: 'confessing '\n    start_ms: 851642\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 852267\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 852564\n  - text: 'soul '\n    start_ms: 852773\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 853487\n  - text: 'conform '\n    start_ms: 853636\n  - text: to\n    start_ms: 854171\n- text: The rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 854320\n  end_ms: 857620\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 854320\n  - text: 'rhythm '\n    start_ms: 854440\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 854830\n  - text: 'thought '\n    start_ms: 855040\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 855459\n  - text: 'his '\n    start_ms: 855640\n  - text: 'naked '\n    start_ms: 855880\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 856420\n  - text: 'endless '\n    start_ms: 856690\n  - text: head\n    start_ms: 857290\n- text: The madman, bum and angel beat in time\n  start_ms: 858390\n  end_ms: 862260\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 858390\n  - text: 'madman, '\n    start_ms: 858510\n  - text: 'bum '\n    start_ms: 859590\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 860130\n  - text: 'angel '\n    start_ms: 860430\n  - text: 'beat '\n    start_ms: 861330\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 861720\n  - text: time\n    start_ms: 861900\n- text: Yet putting down what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 862830\n  end_ms: 866670\n  words:\n  - text: 'Yet '\n    start_ms: 862830\n  - text: 'putting '\n    start_ms: 862950\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 863250\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 863519\n  - text: 'might '\n    start_ms: 863730\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 863969\n  - text: 'left '\n    start_ms: 864180\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 864480\n  - text: 'say '\n    start_ms: 864660\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 865020\n  - text: 'time '\n    start_ms: 865170\n  - text: 'come '\n    start_ms: 865830\n  - text: 'after '\n    start_ms: 866040\n  - text: death\n    start_ms: 866370\n- text: And rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz\n  start_ms: 867650\n  end_ms: 871520\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 867650\n  - text: 'rose '\n    start_ms: 867860\n  - text: 'reincarnate '\n    start_ms: 868460\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 869810\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 869900\n  - text: 'ghostly '\n    start_ms: 870020\n  - text: 'clothes '\n    start_ms: 870470\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 870950\n  - text: jazz\n    start_ms: 871100\n- text: In the gold horn shadow of the band\n  start_ms: 872040\n  end_ms: 873840\n  words:\n  - text: 'In '\n    start_ms: 872040\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 872130\n  - text: 'gold '\n    start_ms: 872220\n  - text: 'horn '\n    start_ms: 872550\n  - text: 'shadow '\n    start_ms: 872880\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 873300\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 873390\n  - text: band\n    start_ms: 873480\n- text: And blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love\n  start_ms: 874680\n  end_ms: 877920\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 874680\n  - text: 'blew '\n    start_ms: 874800\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 875040\n  - text: 'suffering '\n    start_ms: 875160\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 875850\n  - text: 'America''s '\n    start_ms: 876030\n  - text: 'naked '\n    start_ms: 876600\n  - text: 'mind '\n    start_ms: 877020\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 877380\n  - text: love\n    start_ms: 877590\n- text: Into an Eli Eli lama lama sabachthani saxophone cry\n  start_ms: 878330\n  end_ms: 882820\n  words:\n  - text: 'Into '\n    start_ms: 878330\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 878659\n  - text: 'Eli '\n    start_ms: 879467\n  - text: 'Eli '\n    start_ms: 879586\n  - text: 'lama '\n    start_ms: 879737\n  - text: 'lama '\n    start_ms: 880186\n  - text: 'sabachthani '\n    start_ms: 880665\n  - text: 'saxophone '\n    start_ms: 881563\n  - text: cry\n    start_ms: 882341\n- text: That shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882820\n  end_ms: 885520\n  words:\n  - text: 'That '\n    start_ms: 882820\n  - text: 'shivered '\n    start_ms: 883030\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 883450\n  - text: 'cities '\n    start_ms: 883540\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 883990\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 884320\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 884470\n  - text: 'last '\n    start_ms: 884590\n  - text: radio\n    start_ms: 884950\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem of\n  start_ms: 886340\n  end_ms: 888290\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 886340\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 886460\n  - text: 'absolute '\n    start_ms: 886580\n  - text: 'heart '\n    start_ms: 887120\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 887510\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 887660\n  - text: 'poem '\n    start_ms: 887780\n  - text: of\n    start_ms: 888170\n- text: Life butchered out of their own bodies\n  start_ms: 888300\n  end_ms: 890340\n  words:\n  - text: 'Life '\n    start_ms: 888300\n  - text: 'butchered '\n    start_ms: 888930\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 889290\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 889470\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 889530\n  - text: 'own '\n    start_ms: 889710\n  - text: bodies\n    start_ms: 889920\n- text: Good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 890980\n  end_ms: 892780\n  words:\n  - text: 'Good '\n    start_ms: 890980\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 891160\n  - text: 'eat '\n    start_ms: 891340\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 891640\n  - text: 'thousand '\n    start_ms: 891700\n  - text: years\n    start_ms: 892240\n- text: Part two\n  start_ms: 893770\n  end_ms: 894370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Part '\n    start_ms: 893770\n  - text: two\n    start_ms: 894040\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminum\n  start_ms: 897420\n  end_ms: 901260\n  words:\n  - text: 'What '\n    start_ms: 897420\n  - text: 'sphinx '\n    start_ms: 898140\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 899370\n  - text: 'cement '\n    start_ms: 899550\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 900480\n  - text: aluminum\n    start_ms: 900630\n- text: Bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 902430\n  end_ms: 906750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bashed '\n    start_ms: 902430\n  - text: 'open '\n    start_ms: 902850\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 903150\n  - text: 'skulls '\n    start_ms: 903330\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 904530\n  - text: 'ate '\n    start_ms: 904770\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 904980\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 905220\n  - text: 'brains '\n    start_ms: 905430\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 905910\n  - text: imagination?\n    start_ms: 906030\n- text: Moloch, solitude, filth, ugliness\n  start_ms: 908620\n  end_ms: 913210\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch, '\n    start_ms: 908620\n  - text: 'solitude, '\n    start_ms: 910240\n  - text: 'filth, '\n    start_ms: 911890\n  - text: ugliness\n    start_ms: 912730\n- text: Ashcans and unobtainable dollars\n  start_ms: 915210\n  end_ms: 916620\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ashcans '\n    start_ms: 915210\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 915240\n  - text: 'unobtainable '\n    start_ms: 915330\n  - text: dollars\n    start_ms: 916050\n- text: Children screaming under stairways\n  start_ms: 917290\n  end_ms: 919210\n  words:\n  - text: 'Children '\n    start_ms: 917290\n  - text: 'screaming '\n    start_ms: 917770\n  - text: 'under '\n    start_ms: 918250\n  - text: stairways\n    start_ms: 918520\n- text: Boys sobbing in armies\n  start_ms: 919710\n  end_ms: 921210\n  words:\n  - text: 'Boys '\n    start_ms: 919710\n  - text: 'sobbing '\n    start_ms: 920130\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 920640\n  - text: armies\n    start_ms: 920730\n- text: Old men weeping in the park\n  start_ms: 921930\n  end_ms: 923370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Old '\n    start_ms: 921930\n  - text: 'men '\n    start_ms: 922140\n  - text: 'weeping '\n    start_ms: 922380\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 922710\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 922800\n  - text: park\n    start_ms: 922890\n- text: Moloch, Moloch, nightmare of Moloch\n  start_ms: 924170\n  end_ms: 927440\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch, '\n    start_ms: 924170\n  - text: 'Moloch, '\n    start_ms: 925190\n  - text: 'nightmare '\n    start_ms: 926300\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 926840\n  - text: Moloch\n    start_ms: 926990\n- text: Moloch the loveless, mental Moloch\n  start_ms: 927850\n  end_ms: 930460\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 927850\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 928510\n  - text: 'loveless, '\n    start_ms: 928570\n  - text: 'mental '\n    start_ms: 929500\n  - text: Moloch\n    start_ms: 930010\n- text: Moloch the heavy judger of men\n  start_ms: 931220\n  end_ms: 933200\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 931220\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 931730\n  - text: 'heavy '\n    start_ms: 931940\n  - text: 'judger '\n    start_ms: 932210\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 932720\n  - text: men\n    start_ms: 932870\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison\n  start_ms: 934820\n  end_ms: 936950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 934820\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 935420\n  - text: 'incomprehensible '\n    start_ms: 935630\n  - text: prison\n    start_ms: 936560\n- text: Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and congress of sorrows\n  start_ms: 938480\n  end_ms: 942770\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 938480\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 939020\n  - text: 'crossbone '\n    start_ms: 939140\n  - text: 'soulless '\n    start_ms: 939830\n  - text: 'jailhouse '\n    start_ms: 940340\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 941120\n  - text: 'congress '\n    start_ms: 941300\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 941960\n  - text: sorrows\n    start_ms: 942140\n- text: Moloch whose buildings are judgment\n  start_ms: 944190\n  end_ms: 946440\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 944190\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 944790\n  - text: 'buildings '\n    start_ms: 945000\n  - text: 'are '\n    start_ms: 945720\n  - text: judgment\n    start_ms: 945900\n- text: Moloch the vast stone of war\n  start_ms: 947400\n  end_ms: 949830\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 947400\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 948089\n  - text: 'vast '\n    start_ms: 948210\n  - text: 'stone '\n    start_ms: 948630\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 949170\n  - text: war\n    start_ms: 949350\n- text: Moloch the stunned government\n  start_ms: 950630\n  end_ms: 952430\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 950630\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 951230\n  - text: 'stunned '\n    start_ms: 951380\n  - text: government\n    start_ms: 951860\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery\n  start_ms: 954060\n  end_ms: 956490\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 954060\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 954660\n  - text: 'mind '\n    start_ms: 954870\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 955320\n  - text: 'pure '\n    start_ms: 955470\n  - text: machinery\n    start_ms: 955770\n- text: Moloch whose blood is running money\n  start_ms: 957960\n  end_ms: 960030\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 957960\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 958470\n  - text: 'blood '\n    start_ms: 958680\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 959010\n  - text: 'running '\n    start_ms: 959220\n  - text: money\n    start_ms: 959610\n- text: Moloch whose fingers are ten armies\n  start_ms: 961790\n  end_ms: 963950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 961790\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 962270\n  - text: 'fingers '\n    start_ms: 962479\n  - text: 'are '\n    start_ms: 963020\n  - text: 'ten '\n    start_ms: 963140\n  - text: armies\n    start_ms: 963440\n- text: Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo\n  start_ms: 965220\n  end_ms: 967740\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 965220\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 965730\n  - text: 'breast '\n    start_ms: 965940\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 966390\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 966570\n  - text: 'cannibal '\n    start_ms: 966599\n  - text: dynamo\n    start_ms: 967110\n- text: Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb\n  start_ms: 968780\n  end_ms: 971510\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 968780\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 969350\n  - text: 'ear '\n    start_ms: 969680\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 970100\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 970310\n  - text: 'smoking '\n    start_ms: 970400\n  - text: tomb\n    start_ms: 971090\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows\n  start_ms: 973180\n  end_ms: 976330\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 973180\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 973780\n  - text: 'eyes '\n    start_ms: 973990\n  - text: 'are '\n    start_ms: 974440\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 974559\n  - text: 'thousand '\n    start_ms: 974650\n  - text: 'blind '\n    start_ms: 975250\n  - text: windows\n    start_ms: 975730\n- text: Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in\n  start_ms: 977660\n  end_ms: 979730\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 977660\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 978091\n  - text: 'skyscrapers '\n    start_ms: 978321\n  - text: 'stand '\n    start_ms: 979213\n  - text: in\n    start_ms: 979644\n- text: The long streets like endless Jehovas\n  start_ms: 979730\n  end_ms: 982190\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 979730\n  - text: 'long '\n    start_ms: 979820\n  - text: 'streets '\n    start_ms: 980150\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 980630\n  - text: 'endless '\n    start_ms: 980930\n  - text: Jehovas\n    start_ms: 982160\n- text: Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog\n  start_ms: 983330\n  end_ms: 987080\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 983330\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 983990\n  - text: 'factories '\n    start_ms: 984230\n  - text: 'dream '\n    start_ms: 985040\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 985609\n  - text: 'croak '\n    start_ms: 985790\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 986359\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 986510\n  - text: fog\n    start_ms: 986630\n- text: Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities\n  start_ms: 988640\n  end_ms: 992600\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 988640\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 989240\n  - text: 'smokestacks '\n    start_ms: 989420\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 990350\n  - text: 'antennae '\n    start_ms: 990500\n  - text: 'crown '\n    start_ms: 991580\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 992000\n  - text: cities\n    start_ms: 992120\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone\n  start_ms: 994270\n  end_ms: 997420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 994270\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 994780\n  - text: 'love '\n    start_ms: 994990\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 995470\n  - text: 'endless '\n    start_ms: 995620\n  - text: 'oil '\n    start_ms: 996490\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 996700\n  - text: stone\n    start_ms: 996850\n- text: Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks\n  start_ms: 998650\n  end_ms: 1001710\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 998650\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 999219\n  - text: 'soul '\n    start_ms: 999460\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 1000000\n  - text: 'electricity '\n    start_ms: 1000150\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1000870\n  - text: banks\n    start_ms: 1000990\n- text: Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius\n  start_ms: 1003490\n  end_ms: 1006280\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1003490\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 1003970\n  - text: 'poverty '\n    start_ms: 1004240\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 1004840\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1004960\n  - text: 'specter '\n    start_ms: 1005080\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1005650\n  - text: genius\n    start_ms: 1005800\n- text: Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen\n  start_ms: 1007780\n  end_ms: 1011710\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1007780\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 1008710\n  - text: 'fate '\n    start_ms: 1008950\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 1009460\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 1009640\n  - text: 'cloud '\n    start_ms: 1009730\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1010240\n  - text: 'sexless '\n    start_ms: 1010360\n  - text: hydrogen\n    start_ms: 1011050\n- text: Moloch whose name is the mind\n  start_ms: 1012630\n  end_ms: 1014700\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1012630\n  - text: 'whose '\n    start_ms: 1013260\n  - text: 'name '\n    start_ms: 1013560\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 1013950\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1014160\n  - text: mind\n    start_ms: 1014250\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely\n  start_ms: 1016060\n  end_ms: 1018400\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1016060\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1016629\n  - text: 'whom '\n    start_ms: 1016810\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 1017140\n  - text: 'sit '\n    start_ms: 1017380\n  - text: lonely\n    start_ms: 1017800\n- text: Moloch in whom I dream angels\n  start_ms: 1019500\n  end_ms: 1021960\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1019500\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1020100\n  - text: 'whom '\n    start_ms: 1020250\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 1020610\n  - text: 'dream '\n    start_ms: 1020850\n  - text: angels\n    start_ms: 1021270\n- text: Crazy in Moloch\n  start_ms: 1023070\n  end_ms: 1024420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Crazy '\n    start_ms: 1023070\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1023610\n  - text: Moloch\n    start_ms: 1023820\n- text: Cocksucker in Moloch\n  start_ms: 1025780\n  end_ms: 1026560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Cocksucker '\n    start_ms: 1025780\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1025810\n  - text: Moloch\n    start_ms: 1026020\n- text: Lacklove and manless in Moloch\n  start_ms: 1027410\n  end_ms: 1029420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Lacklove '\n    start_ms: 1027410\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1027440\n  - text: 'manless '\n    start_ms: 1028040\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1028700\n  - text: Moloch\n    start_ms: 1028880\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early\n  start_ms: 1030770\n  end_ms: 1032990\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1030770\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 1031310\n  - text: 'entered '\n    start_ms: 1031430\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 1031820\n  - text: 'soul '\n    start_ms: 1032090\n  - text: early\n    start_ms: 1032510\n- text: Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body\n  start_ms: 1034500\n  end_ms: 1037290\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1034500\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1035010\n  - text: 'whom '\n    start_ms: 1035130\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 1035340\n  - text: 'am '\n    start_ms: 1035490\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 1035639\n  - text: 'consciousness '\n    start_ms: 1035700\n  - text: 'without '\n    start_ms: 1036480\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 1036810\n  - text: body\n    start_ms: 1036870\n- text: Moloch who frightens me out of my natural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 1038950\n  end_ms: 1042220\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1038950\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 1039519\n  - text: 'frightens '\n    start_ms: 1039700\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 1040270\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 1040450\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1040600\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 1040720\n  - text: 'natural '\n    start_ms: 1040900\n  - text: ecstasy\n    start_ms: 1041500\n- text: Moloch whom I abandon\n  start_ms: 1043240\n  end_ms: 1045160\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1043240\n  - text: 'whom '\n    start_ms: 1043780\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 1044080\n  - text: abandon\n    start_ms: 1044380\n- text: Wake up in Moloch\n  start_ms: 1046450\n  end_ms: 1047620\n  words:\n  - text: 'Wake '\n    start_ms: 1046450\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 1046750\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1046960\n  - text: Moloch\n    start_ms: 1047080\n- text: Light streams out of the sky\n  start_ms: 1048570\n  end_ms: 1050400\n  words:\n  - text: 'Light '\n    start_ms: 1048570\n  - text: 'streams '\n    start_ms: 1048900\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 1049470\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1049650\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1049740\n  - text: sky\n    start_ms: 1049860\n- text: Moloch, Moloch, robot apartments\n  start_ms: 1051880\n  end_ms: 1055060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moloch, '\n    start_ms: 1051880\n  - text: 'Moloch, '\n    start_ms: 1052930\n  - text: 'robot '\n    start_ms: 1053830\n  - text: apartments\n    start_ms: 1054220\n- text: Invisible suburbs, skeleton treasuries\n  start_ms: 1055440\n  end_ms: 1058410\n  words:\n  - text: 'Invisible '\n    start_ms: 1055440\n  - text: 'suburbs, '\n    start_ms: 1056040\n  - text: 'skeleton '\n    start_ms: 1057090\n  - text: treasuries\n    start_ms: 1057750\n- text: Blind capitals, demonic industries\n  start_ms: 1058870\n  end_ms: 1061600\n  words:\n  - text: 'Blind '\n    start_ms: 1058870\n  - text: 'capitals, '\n    start_ms: 1059350\n  - text: 'demonic '\n    start_ms: 1060370\n  - text: industries\n    start_ms: 1060880\n- text: Spectral nations, invincible madhouse\n  start_ms: 1061880\n  end_ms: 1064760\n  words:\n  - text: 'Spectral '\n    start_ms: 1061880\n  - text: 'nations, '\n    start_ms: 1062510\n  - text: 'invincible '\n    start_ms: 1063410\n  - text: madhouse\n    start_ms: 1064100\n- text: Granite cocks, monstrous bombs\n  start_ms: 1065280\n  end_ms: 1067890\n  words:\n  - text: 'Granite '\n    start_ms: 1065280\n  - text: 'cocks, '\n    start_ms: 1065670\n  - text: 'monstrous '\n    start_ms: 1066540\n  - text: bombs\n    start_ms: 1067260\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to heaven\n  start_ms: 1069330\n  end_ms: 1071760\n  words:\n  - text: 'They '\n    start_ms: 1069330\n  - text: 'broke '\n    start_ms: 1069510\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 1069810\n  - text: 'backs '\n    start_ms: 1070019\n  - text: 'lifting '\n    start_ms: 1070380\n  - text: 'Moloch '\n    start_ms: 1070709\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 1071190\n  - text: heaven\n    start_ms: 1071400\n- text: Pavements, trees, radios, tongues\n  start_ms: 1072630\n  end_ms: 1074970\n  words:\n  - text: 'Pavements, '\n    start_ms: 1072630\n  - text: 'trees, '\n    start_ms: 1073290\n  - text: 'radios, '\n    start_ms: 1073860\n  - text: tongues\n    start_ms: 1074520\n- text: Lifting the city to heaven which exists and is everywhere about us\n  start_ms: 1075580\n  end_ms: 1079090\n  words:\n  - text: 'Lifting '\n    start_ms: 1075580\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1076000\n  - text: 'city '\n    start_ms: 1076120\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 1076420\n  - text: 'heaven '\n    start_ms: 1076600\n  - text: 'which '\n    start_ms: 1076990\n  - text: 'exists '\n    start_ms: 1077230\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1077770\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 1077950\n  - text: 'everywhere '\n    start_ms: 1078070\n  - text: 'about '\n    start_ms: 1078580\n  - text: us\n    start_ms: 1078940\n- text: Visions, omens, hallucinations\n  start_ms: 1080460\n  end_ms: 1083580\n  words:\n  - text: 'Visions, '\n    start_ms: 1080460\n  - text: 'omens, '\n    start_ms: 1081600\n  - text: hallucinations\n    start_ms: 1082530\n- text: Miracles, ecstasies gone down the American river\n  start_ms: 1083720\n  end_ms: 1087770\n  words:\n  - text: 'Miracles, '\n    start_ms: 1083720\n  - text: 'ecstasies '\n    start_ms: 1084800\n  - text: 'gone '\n    start_ms: 1085999\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 1086390\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1086690\n  - text: 'American '\n    start_ms: 1086810\n  - text: river\n    start_ms: 1087320\n- text: Dreams, adorations, religions\n  start_ms: 1089570\n  end_ms: 1092240\n  words:\n  - text: 'Dreams, '\n    start_ms: 1089570\n  - text: 'adorations, '\n    start_ms: 1090500\n  - text: religions\n    start_ms: 1091670\n- text: The whole boatload of sensitive bullshit\n  start_ms: 1092520\n  end_ms: 1094860\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 1092520\n  - text: 'whole '\n    start_ms: 1092580\n  - text: 'boatload '\n    start_ms: 1092940\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1093540\n  - text: 'sensitive '\n    start_ms: 1093630\n  - text: bullshit\n    start_ms: 1094320\n- text: Breakthroughs over the riverFlips and crucifixions gone down the flood\n  start_ms: 1097160\n  end_ms: 1101630\n  words:\n  - text: 'Breakthroughs '\n    start_ms: 1097160\n  - text: 'over '\n    start_ms: 1097370\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1097640\n  - text: 'riverFlips '\n    start_ms: 1098090\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1099380\n  - text: 'crucifixions '\n    start_ms: 1099590\n  - text: 'gone '\n    start_ms: 1100460\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 1100790\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1101090\n  - text: flood\n    start_ms: 1101210\n- text: Highs, epiphanies, despairs\n  start_ms: 1102200\n  end_ms: 1104930\n  words:\n  - text: 'Highs, '\n    start_ms: 1102200\n  - text: 'epiphanies, '\n    start_ms: 1104120\n  - text: despairs\n    start_ms: 1104150\n- text: Ten years animal screams and suicides\n  start_ms: 1105470\n  end_ms: 1108050\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ten '\n    start_ms: 1105470\n  - text: 'years '\n    start_ms: 1105710\n  - text: 'animal '\n    start_ms: 1106130\n  - text: 'screams '\n    start_ms: 1106490\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1107120\n  - text: suicides\n    start_ms: 1107240\n- text: Minds, new loves, mad generation\n  start_ms: 1108330\n  end_ms: 1111060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Minds, '\n    start_ms: 1108330\n  - text: 'new '\n    start_ms: 1109230\n  - text: 'loves, '\n    start_ms: 1109440\n  - text: 'mad '\n    start_ms: 1110130\n  - text: generation\n    start_ms: 1110400\n- text: Down on the rocks of time\n  start_ms: 1111760\n  end_ms: 1113350\n  words:\n  - text: 'Down '\n    start_ms: 1111760\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 1112090\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1112240\n  - text: 'rocks '\n    start_ms: 1112360\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1112750\n  - text: time\n    start_ms: 1112870\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river\n  start_ms: 1114260\n  end_ms: 1116000\n  words:\n  - text: 'Real '\n    start_ms: 1114260\n  - text: 'holy '\n    start_ms: 1114650\n  - text: 'laughter '\n    start_ms: 1115010\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1115460\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1115550\n  - text: river\n    start_ms: 1115640\n- text: They saw it all\n  start_ms: 1116820\n  end_ms: 1117780\n  words:\n  - text: 'They '\n    start_ms: 1116820\n  - text: 'saw '\n    start_ms: 1117000\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 1117270\n  - text: all\n    start_ms: 1117390\n- text: The wild eyes, the holy yells\n  start_ms: 1118400\n  end_ms: 1120800\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 1118400\n  - text: 'wild '\n    start_ms: 1118520\n  - text: 'eyes, '\n    start_ms: 1119000\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1119900\n  - text: 'holy '\n    start_ms: 1120050\n  - text: yells\n    start_ms: 1120350\n- text: They bade farewell\n  start_ms: 1121230\n  end_ms: 1122490\n  words:\n  - text: 'They '\n    start_ms: 1121230\n  - text: 'bade '\n    start_ms: 1121410\n  - text: farewell\n    start_ms: 1121800\n- text: They jumped off the roof\n  start_ms: 1122920\n  end_ms: 1124150\n  words:\n  - text: 'They '\n    start_ms: 1122920\n  - text: 'jumped '\n    start_ms: 1123100\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 1123520\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1123760\n  - text: roof\n    start_ms: 1123910\n- text: To solitude\n  start_ms: 1124570\n  end_ms: 1125560\n  words:\n  - text: 'To '\n    start_ms: 1124570\n  - text: solitude\n    start_ms: 1124780\n- text: Waving, carrying flowers\n  start_ms: 1125920\n  end_ms: 1127900\n  words:\n  - text: 'Waving, '\n    start_ms: 1125920\n  - text: 'carrying '\n    start_ms: 1126820\n  - text: flowers\n    start_ms: 1127300\n- text: Down to the river\n  start_ms: 1128330\n  end_ms: 1129170\n  words:\n  - text: 'Down '\n    start_ms: 1128330\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 1128630\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1128750\n  - text: river\n    start_ms: 1128840\n- text: Into the street\n  start_ms: 1129540\n  end_ms: 1130320\n  words:\n  - text: 'Into '\n    start_ms: 1129540\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1129840\n  - text: street\n    start_ms: 1129930\n- text: Part Three\n  start_ms: 1132530\n  end_ms: 1133010\n  words:\n  - text: 'Part '\n    start_ms: 1132530\n  - text: Three\n    start_ms: 1132710\n- text: Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 1135090\n  end_ms: 1135870\n  words:\n  - text: 'Carl '\n    start_ms: 1135090\n  - text: Solomon\n    start_ms: 1135360\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1137190\n  end_ms: 1139650\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1137190\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1137340\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1137460\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1137670\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1137820\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1138300\n  - text: 'you''re '\n    start_ms: 1138480\n  - text: 'madder '\n    start_ms: 1138600\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 1138990\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 1139170\n  - text: am\n    start_ms: 1139350\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you must feel very strange\n  start_ms: 1141290\n  end_ms: 1144080\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1141290\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1141500\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1141650\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1141770\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1141859\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1142280\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1142460\n  - text: 'must '\n    start_ms: 1142580\n  - text: 'feel '\n    start_ms: 1142820\n  - text: 'very '\n    start_ms: 1143180\n  - text: strange\n    start_ms: 1143510\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145370\n  end_ms: 1148460\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1145370\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1145610\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1145760\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1145880\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1145970\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1146390\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1146540\n  - text: 'imitate '\n    start_ms: 1146690\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1147230\n  - text: 'shade '\n    start_ms: 1147379\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1147800\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 1147890\n  - text: mother\n    start_ms: 1148070\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1149960\n  end_ms: 1153020\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1149960\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1150170\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1150320\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1150440\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1150529\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1150950\n  - text: 'you''ve '\n    start_ms: 1151099\n  - text: 'murdered '\n    start_ms: 1151280\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 1151670\n  - text: 'twelve '\n    start_ms: 1151790\n  - text: secretaries\n    start_ms: 1152210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you laugh at this invisible humor\n  start_ms: 1154430\n  end_ms: 1157490\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1154430\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1154610\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1154760\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1154880\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1154999\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1155420\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1155569\n  - text: 'laugh '\n    start_ms: 1155720\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 1156110\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 1156200\n  - text: 'invisible '\n    start_ms: 1156380\n  - text: humor\n    start_ms: 1157070\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where we are great\n  start_ms: 1158740\n  end_ms: 1160630\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1158740\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1158950\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1159100\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1159220\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1159309\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1159790\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 1160000\n  - text: 'are '\n    start_ms: 1160180\n  - text: great\n    start_ms: 1160300\n- text: Writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1160640\n  end_ms: 1163160\n  words:\n  - text: 'Writers '\n    start_ms: 1160640\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 1161120\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1161209\n  - text: 'same '\n    start_ms: 1161300\n  - text: 'dreadful '\n    start_ms: 1161840\n  - text: typewriter\n    start_ms: 1162440\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where your condition\n  start_ms: 1164520\n  end_ms: 1166320\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1164520\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1164730\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1164880\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1165030\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1165120\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1165570\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 1165690\n  - text: condition\n    start_ms: 1165840\n- text: Has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1166370\n  end_ms: 1169010\n  words:\n  - text: 'Has '\n    start_ms: 1166370\n  - text: 'become '\n    start_ms: 1166490\n  - text: 'serious '\n    start_ms: 1166850\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1167420\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 1167540\n  - text: 'reported '\n    start_ms: 1167660\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 1168230\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1168379\n  - text: radio\n    start_ms: 1168500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where the faculties of\n  start_ms: 1170180\n  end_ms: 1171900\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1170180\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1170319\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1170430\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1170541\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1170652\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1171040\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1171151\n  - text: 'faculties '\n    start_ms: 1171262\n  - text: of\n    start_ms: 1171789\n- text: The skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171900\n  end_ms: 1174690\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 1171900\n  - text: 'skull '\n    start_ms: 1171990\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 1172440\n  - text: 'longer '\n    start_ms: 1172650\n  - text: 'admit '\n    start_ms: 1173039\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1173400\n  - text: 'worms '\n    start_ms: 1173520\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1173940\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1174030\n  - text: senses\n    start_ms: 1174150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you drink the\n  start_ms: 1175740\n  end_ms: 1177390\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1175740\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1175890\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1176010\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1176130\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1176250\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1176670\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1176820\n  - text: 'drink '\n    start_ms: 1176970\n  - text: the\n    start_ms: 1177240\n- text: Tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1177400\n  end_ms: 1179860\n  words:\n  - text: 'Tea '\n    start_ms: 1177400\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1177760\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1177850\n  - text: 'breasts '\n    start_ms: 1177940\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1178420\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1178510\n  - text: 'spinsters '\n    start_ms: 1178600\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1179260\n  - text: Utica\n    start_ms: 1179350\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you pun on the\n  start_ms: 1181470\n  end_ms: 1183060\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1181470\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1181615\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1181759\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1181846\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1181961\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1182366\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1182482\n  - text: 'pun '\n    start_ms: 1182626\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 1182887\n  - text: the\n    start_ms: 1182973\n- text: Bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1183060\n  end_ms: 1185580\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bodies '\n    start_ms: 1183060\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1183480\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 1183540\n  - text: 'nurses '\n    start_ms: 1183690\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1184140\n  - text: 'harpies '\n    start_ms: 1184260\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1184740\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1184830\n  - text: Bronx\n    start_ms: 1184950\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you scream in a straitjacket that\n  start_ms: 1186880\n  end_ms: 1189610\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1186880\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1187060\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1187180\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1187300\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1187420\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1187840\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1188019\n  - text: 'scream '\n    start_ms: 1188140\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1188560\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 1188650\n  - text: 'straitjacket '\n    start_ms: 1188710\n  - text: that\n    start_ms: 1189460\n- text: You're losing the game of the actual ping-pong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1189670\n  end_ms: 1192490\n  words:\n  - text: 'You''re '\n    start_ms: 1189670\n  - text: 'losing '\n    start_ms: 1189790\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1190180\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 1190270\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1190600\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1190660\n  - text: 'actual '\n    start_ms: 1190840\n  - text: ping-\n    start_ms: 1191350\n  - text: 'pong '\n    start_ms: 1191650\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1191980\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1192070\n  - text: abyss\n    start_ms: 1192220\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you bang on the catatonic piano\n  start_ms: 1194230\n  end_ms: 1197050\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1194230\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1194380\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1194500\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1194620\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1194710\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1195100\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1195250\n  - text: 'bang '\n    start_ms: 1195400\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 1195700\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1195820\n  - text: 'catatonic '\n    start_ms: 1195910\n  - text: piano\n    start_ms: 1196600\n- text: The soul is innocent and immortal\n  start_ms: 1197400\n  end_ms: 1199110\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 1197400\n  - text: 'soul '\n    start_ms: 1197460\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 1197880\n  - text: 'innocent '\n    start_ms: 1198000\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1198480\n  - text: immortal\n    start_ms: 1198630\n- text: Should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1199430\n  end_ms: 1202250\n  words:\n  - text: 'Should '\n    start_ms: 1199430\n  - text: 'never '\n    start_ms: 1199610\n  - text: 'die '\n    start_ms: 1199880\n  - text: 'ungodly '\n    start_ms: 1200180\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1200870\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 1200960\n  - text: 'armed '\n    start_ms: 1201140\n  - text: madhouse\n    start_ms: 1201650\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where fifty more shocks will never return\n  start_ms: 1203700\n  end_ms: 1207090\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1203700\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1203880\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1204030\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1204150\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1204269\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1204690\n  - text: 'fifty '\n    start_ms: 1204870\n  - text: 'more '\n    start_ms: 1205260\n  - text: 'shocks '\n    start_ms: 1205440\n  - text: 'will '\n    start_ms: 1206250\n  - text: 'never '\n    start_ms: 1206400\n  - text: return\n    start_ms: 1206670\n- text: Your soul to its body again from\n  start_ms: 1207120\n  end_ms: 1209130\n  words:\n  - text: 'Your '\n    start_ms: 1207120\n  - text: 'soul '\n    start_ms: 1207266\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 1207673\n  - text: 'its '\n    start_ms: 1207819\n  - text: 'body '\n    start_ms: 1207965\n  - text: 'again '\n    start_ms: 1208314\n  - text: from\n    start_ms: 1208926\n- text: Its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1209130\n  end_ms: 1211320\n  words:\n  - text: 'Its '\n    start_ms: 1209130\n  - text: 'pilgrimage '\n    start_ms: 1209280\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 1209910\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 1210060\n  - text: 'cross '\n    start_ms: 1210150\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1210690\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1210840\n  - text: void\n    start_ms: 1210930\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you accuse your\n  start_ms: 1213040\n  end_ms: 1214900\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1213040\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1213220\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1213370\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1213490\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1213609\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1214030\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1214210\n  - text: 'accuse '\n    start_ms: 1214330\n  - text: your\n    start_ms: 1214720\n- text: Doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist\n  start_ms: 1214940\n  end_ms: 1218210\n  words:\n  - text: 'Doctors '\n    start_ms: 1214940\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1215436\n  - text: 'insanity '\n    start_ms: 1215553\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1216546\n  - text: 'plot '\n    start_ms: 1216692\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1217042\n  - text: 'Hebrew '\n    start_ms: 1217217\n  - text: socialist\n    start_ms: 1217597\n- text: Revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1218210\n  end_ms: 1221480\n  words:\n  - text: 'Revolution '\n    start_ms: 1218210\n  - text: 'against '\n    start_ms: 1219260\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1219620\n  - text: 'fascist '\n    start_ms: 1219740\n  - text: 'national '\n    start_ms: 1220280\n  - text: Golgotha\n    start_ms: 1220820\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where you'll split the heavens of Long\n  start_ms: 1222560\n  end_ms: 1225140\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1222560\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1222770\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1222890\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1223040\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1223129\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1223580\n  - text: 'you''ll '\n    start_ms: 1223820\n  - text: 'split '\n    start_ms: 1223939\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1224270\n  - text: 'heavens '\n    start_ms: 1224420\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1224810\n  - text: Long\n    start_ms: 1224930\n- text: Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1225180\n  end_ms: 1229380\n  words:\n  - text: 'Island '\n    start_ms: 1225180\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1225990\n  - text: 'resurrect '\n    start_ms: 1226110\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 1226710\n  - text: 'living '\n    start_ms: 1226800\n  - text: 'human '\n    start_ms: 1227189\n  - text: 'Jesus '\n    start_ms: 1227550\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 1228000\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1228180\n  - text: 'superhuman '\n    start_ms: 1228300\n  - text: tomb\n    start_ms: 1228960\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where there are twenty-five thousand mad\n  start_ms: 1230560\n  end_ms: 1233230\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1230560\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1230680\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1230830\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1230950\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1231040\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1231490\n  - text: 'there '\n    start_ms: 1231640\n  - text: 'are '\n    start_ms: 1231790\n  - text: twenty-\n    start_ms: 1231820\n  - text: 'five '\n    start_ms: 1232120\n  - text: 'thousand '\n    start_ms: 1232450\n  - text: mad\n    start_ms: 1232840\n- text: Comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1233290\n  end_ms: 1237940\n  words:\n  - text: 'Comrades '\n    start_ms: 1233290\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 1234460\n  - text: 'together '\n    start_ms: 1234669\n  - text: 'singing '\n    start_ms: 1235120\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1235630\n  - text: 'final '\n    start_ms: 1235750\n  - text: 'stanzas '\n    start_ms: 1236200\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1236860\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1236980\n  - text: Internationale\n    start_ms: 1237100\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where we hug and\n  start_ms: 1239270\n  end_ms: 1241050\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1239270\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1239473\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1239620\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1239737\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1239824\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1240262\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 1240437\n  - text: 'hug '\n    start_ms: 1240612\n  - text: and\n    start_ms: 1240904\n- text: Kiss the United States under our bedsheets\n  start_ms: 1241050\n  end_ms: 1243090\n  words:\n  - text: 'Kiss '\n    start_ms: 1241050\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1241440\n  - text: 'United '\n    start_ms: 1241500\n  - text: 'States '\n    start_ms: 1241980\n  - text: 'under '\n    start_ms: 1242520\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 1242850\n  - text: bedsheets\n    start_ms: 1243060\n- text: The United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1244180\n  end_ms: 1247600\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 1244180\n  - text: 'United '\n    start_ms: 1244300\n  - text: 'States '\n    start_ms: 1244690\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 1245170\n  - text: 'coughs '\n    start_ms: 1245380\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 1245950\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 1246189\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 1246490\n  - text: 'won''t '\n    start_ms: 1246610\n  - text: 'let '\n    start_ms: 1246910\n  - text: 'us '\n    start_ms: 1247090\n  - text: sleep\n    start_ms: 1247210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland where we wake up electrified out of\n  start_ms: 1248740\n  end_ms: 1251920\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1248740\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1248950\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1249100\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1249250\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1249340\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 1250270\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 1250390\n  - text: 'wake '\n    start_ms: 1250540\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 1250810\n  - text: 'electrified '\n    start_ms: 1250960\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 1251680\n  - text: of\n    start_ms: 1251860\n- text: The coma by our own soul's airplanes roaring over the roof\n  start_ms: 1251920\n  end_ms: 1256690\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 1251920\n  - text: 'coma '\n    start_ms: 1252040\n  - text: 'by '\n    start_ms: 1252820\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 1253120\n  - text: 'own '\n    start_ms: 1253240\n  - text: 'soul''s '\n    start_ms: 1253750\n  - text: 'airplanes '\n    start_ms: 1254410\n  - text: 'roaring '\n    start_ms: 1255610\n  - text: 'over '\n    start_ms: 1256090\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1256330\n  - text: roof\n    start_ms: 1256450\n- text: They've come to drop angelical bombs\n  start_ms: 1257320\n  end_ms: 1259330\n  words:\n  - text: 'They''ve '\n    start_ms: 1257320\n  - text: 'come '\n    start_ms: 1257560\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 1257830\n  - text: 'drop '\n    start_ms: 1257980\n  - text: 'angelical '\n    start_ms: 1258310\n  - text: bombs\n    start_ms: 1258970\n- text: The hospital illuminates itself\n  start_ms: 1260280\n  end_ms: 1262110\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 1260280\n  - text: 'hospital '\n    start_ms: 1260400\n  - text: 'illuminates '\n    start_ms: 1260969\n  - text: itself\n    start_ms: 1261630\n- text: Imaginary walls collapse\n  start_ms: 1262770\n  end_ms: 1264540\n  words:\n  - text: 'Imaginary '\n    start_ms: 1262770\n  - text: 'walls '\n    start_ms: 1263459\n  - text: collapse\n    start_ms: 1263880\n- text: Oh skinny legions run outside\n  start_ms: 1264940\n  end_ms: 1267490\n  words:\n  - text: 'Oh '\n    start_ms: 1264940\n  - text: 'skinny '\n    start_ms: 1265210\n  - text: 'legions '\n    start_ms: 1265780\n  - text: 'run '\n    start_ms: 1266440\n  - text: outside\n    start_ms: 1266680\n- text: Oh starry spangled shock of mercy\n  start_ms: 1268060\n  end_ms: 1270910\n  words:\n  - text: 'Oh '\n    start_ms: 1268060\n  - text: 'starry '\n    start_ms: 1268330\n  - text: 'spangled '\n    start_ms: 1268900\n  - text: 'shock '\n    start_ms: 1269530\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1270040\n  - text: mercy\n    start_ms: 1270280\n- text: The eternal war is here\n  start_ms: 1271360\n  end_ms: 1273310\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 1271360\n  - text: 'eternal '\n    start_ms: 1271600\n  - text: 'war '\n    start_ms: 1272110\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 1272470\n  - text: here\n    start_ms: 1272770\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland in my dreams\n  start_ms: 1275040\n  end_ms: 1277290\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 1275040\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 1275250\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 1275430\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1275580\n  - text: 'Rockland '\n    start_ms: 1275700\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 1276360\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 1276510\n  - text: dreams\n    start_ms: 1276720\n- text: You walk dripping from a sea journey\n  start_ms: 1277600\n  end_ms: 1279850\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 1277600\n  - text: 'walk '\n    start_ms: 1277750\n  - text: 'dripping '\n    start_ms: 1278260\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 1278860\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 1279100\n  - text: 'sea '\n    start_ms: 1279160\n  - text: journey\n    start_ms: 1279430\n- text: On the highway across America\n  start_ms: 1280370\n  end_ms: 1282590\n  words:\n  - text: 'On '\n    start_ms: 1280370\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1280520\n  - text: 'highway '\n    start_ms: 1280670\n  - text: 'across '\n    start_ms: 1281390\n  - text: America\n    start_ms: 1282020\n- text: In tears to the door of my cottage\n  start_ms: 1282910\n  end_ms: 1285310\n  words:\n  - text: 'In '\n    start_ms: 1282910\n  - text: 'tears '\n    start_ms: 1283090\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 1283840\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1283990\n  - text: 'door '\n    start_ms: 1284080\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 1284410\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 1284590\n  - text: cottage\n    start_ms: 1284770\n- text: In the western night\n  start_ms: 1285670\n  end_ms: 1286810\n  words:\n  - text: 'In '\n    start_ms: 1285670\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 1285820\n  - text: 'western '\n    start_ms: 1285880\n  - text: night\n    start_ms: 1286570\nplain: |-\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness\n  Starving, hysterical, naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn\n  Looking for an angry fix\n  Angel headed hipsters\n  connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,\n  who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in\n  the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats\n  floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,\n  who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw\n  Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,\n  who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes\n  hallucinating Arkansas and\n  Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,\n  who were expelled from the academies for crazy &\n  publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,\n  who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear,\n  burning their money in wastebaskets and\n  listening to the Terror through the wall,\n  who got busted in their pubic beards returning\n  through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,\n  who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in\n  Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  with dreams, with drugs,\n  with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,\n  incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the\n  mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson,\n  illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns,\n  wine drunkenness over the rooftops,\n  storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light,\n  sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter\n  dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,\n  who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery\n  to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children\n  brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak\n  of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,\n  who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and\n  sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate\n  Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,\n  who talked continuously seventy hours from park to\n  pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,\n  a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the\n  stoops off fire escapes off\n  windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,\n  yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and\n  anecdotes and eyeball kicks and\n  shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,\n  whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and\n  nights with brilliant eyes,\n  meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,\n  who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a\n  trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,\n  suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and\n  migraines of China under\n  junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,\n  who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad\n  yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,\n  who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing\n  through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,\n  who studied Plotinus Poe St.\n  John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because\n  the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,\n  who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking\n  visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,\n  who thought they were only mad when\n  Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,\n  who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on\n  the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,\n  who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex\n  or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about\n  America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,\n  who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing\n  but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and\n  ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,\n  who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and\n  shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their\n  dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,\n  who burned cigarette holes in their arms\n  protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,\n  who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and\n  undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down,\n  and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,\n  who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked\n  and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,\n  who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in\n  policecars for committing no crime but their\n  own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,\n  who howled on their knees in the subway and were\n  dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,\n  who let themselves be fucked in the ass by\n  saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,\n  who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,\n  the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,\n  who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the\n  grass of public parks and cemeteries\n  scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,\n  who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob\n  behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the\n  blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,\n  who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed\n  shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of\n  the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her\n  ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom,\n  who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a\n  sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed,\n  and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on\n  the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and\n  come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,\n  who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset,\n  and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch\n  of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,\n  who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.\n  C., secret hero of these poems,\n  cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable\n  lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards,\n  moviehouses' rickety rows,\n  on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar\n  roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially\n  secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,\n  who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams,\n  woke on a sudden Manhattan,\n  and picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless\n  Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron\n  dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,\n  who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank\n  docks waiting for a door in the East River\n  to open to a room full of steam-heat and opium,\n  who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the\n  Hudson under the wartime blur floodlight of the moon\n  & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,\n  who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested\n  the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,\n  who wept at the romance of the streets with\n  their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,\n  who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the\n  bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,\n  who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame\n  under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,\n  who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty\n  incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,\n  who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail\n  borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,\n  who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,\n  who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for\n  Eternity outside of Time,\n  & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,\n  who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully,\n  gave up and were forced to open antique stores\n  where they thought they were growing old and cried,\n  who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison\n  Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the\n  iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies\n  of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent\n  editors, or were run down by the\n  drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,\n  who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked\n  away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of\n  Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,\n  who sang out of their windows in despair,\n  fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic,\n  leaped on negroes, cried all over the street,\n  danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of\n  nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw\n  up groaning into the bloody toilet,\n  moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,\n  who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each\n  other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude\n  watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,\n  who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a\n  vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,\n  who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver,\n  who came back to Denver & waited in vain,\n  who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally\n  went away to find out the Time,\n  & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,\n  who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each\n  other's salvation and light and breasts,\n  until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,\n  who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible\n  criminals with golden heads and the charm of\n  reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,\n  who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit,\n  or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern\n  Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to\n  Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,\n  who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism\n  & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,\n  who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently\n  presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven\n  heads and harlequin speech of\n  suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,\n  and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol\n  electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy\n  occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,\n  who in humorless protest overturned only one\n  symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,\n  returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood,\n  and tears and fingers,\n  to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls,\n  bickering with the echoes of the soul,\n  rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of\n  love, dream of life a nightmare,\n  bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,\n  with mother finally,\n  and the last fantastic book flung out of the\n  tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.\n  M.\n  and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last\n  furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture,\n  a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet,\n  and even that imaginary,\n  nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe,\n  and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden\n  flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis\n  catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,\n  who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images\n  juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual\n  images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of\n  consciousness together jumping with\n  sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand\n  before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame,\n  rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to\n  the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,\n  the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown,\n  yet putting down here what might be\n  left to say in time come after death,\n  and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn\n  shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for\n  love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  with the absolute heart of the poem of life\n  butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n"},{"id":37311501,"name":"Footnote to Howl","trackName":"Footnote to Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl and Other Poems","duration":2522.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\nHoly holy holy holy holy holy holy\n\nThe world is holy\nThe soul is holy\nThe skin is holy\nThe nose is holy\nThe tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy\nEverything is holy\nEverybody's holy\nEverywhere is holy\nEvery day is an eternity\nEvery man's an angel\n\nThe bum is holy as a seraphim\nThe madman is holy as you, my soul, are holy\nThe typewriter is holy\nThe poem is holy\nThe voice is holy\nThe hearers are holy\nThe ecstasy is holy\n\nHoly Peter, holy Allen, holy Solomon, holy Kerouac\nHoly Huncke, holy Burroughs, holy Cassady\nHoly the unknown buggered and suffering beggars\nHoly the hideous human angels\nHoly my mother in the insane asylum\nHoly the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas\nHoly the groaning saxophone\nHoly the bop apocalypse\nHoly the jazz bands, marijuana, hipsters, peace and junk and drums\n\nHoly the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements\nHoly the cafeterias filled with the millions\nHoly the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets\nHoly the lone juggernaut\nHoly the vast lamb of the middle class\nHoly the crazy shepherds of rebellion\n\nWho-digs Los Angeles is Los Angeles\n\nHoly New York, holy San Francisco, holy Peoria and Seattle\nHoly Paris, holy Tangiers, holy Moscow, holy Istanbul\n\nHoly time in eternity\nHoly eternity in time\nHoly the clocks in space\nHoly the fourth dimension\nHoly the fifth international\n\nHoly the angel in Moloch\nHoly the sea\nHoly the desert\nHoly the railroad\nHoly the locomotive\nHoly the visions\nHoly the hallucinations\nHoly the miracles\nHoly the eyeball\nHoly the abyss\n\nHoly forgiveness, mercy, charity, faith\nHoly ours, bodies, suffering, magnanimity\nHoly the supernatural extra-brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Footnote to Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl and Other Poems\n  duration_ms: 2522134\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n  Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n\n  The world is holy\n  The soul is holy\n  The skin is holy\n  The nose is holy\n  The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy\n  Everything is holy\n  Everybody's holy\n  Everywhere is holy\n  Every day is an eternity\n  Every man's an angel\n\n  The bum is holy as a seraphim\n  The madman is holy as you, my soul, are holy\n  The typewriter is holy\n  The poem is holy\n  The voice is holy\n  The hearers are holy\n  The ecstasy is holy\n\n  Holy Peter, holy Allen, holy Solomon, holy Kerouac\n  Holy Huncke, holy Burroughs, holy Cassady\n  Holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars\n  Holy the hideous human angels\n  Holy my mother in the insane asylum\n  Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas\n  Holy the groaning saxophone\n  Holy the bop apocalypse\n  Holy the jazz bands, marijuana, hipsters, peace and junk and drums\n\n  Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements\n  Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions\n  Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets\n  Holy the lone juggernaut\n  Holy the vast lamb of the middle class\n  Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion\n\n  Who-digs Los Angeles is Los Angeles\n\n  Holy New York, holy San Francisco, holy Peoria and Seattle\n  Holy Paris, holy Tangiers, holy Moscow, holy Istanbul\n\n  Holy time in eternity\n  Holy eternity in time\n  Holy the clocks in space\n  Holy the fourth dimension\n  Holy the fifth international\n\n  Holy the angel in Moloch\n  Holy the sea\n  Holy the desert\n  Holy the railroad\n  Holy the locomotive\n  Holy the visions\n  Holy the hallucinations\n  Holy the miracles\n  Holy the eyeball\n  Holy the abyss\n\n  Holy forgiveness, mercy, charity, faith\n  Holy ours, bodies, suffering, magnanimity\n  Holy the supernatural extra-brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul\n"},{"id":28900112,"name":"Footnote to Howl","trackName":"Footnote to Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl and Other Poems","duration":176.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\nHoly holy holy holy holy holy holy\n\nThe world is holy\nThe soul is holy\nThe skin is holy\nThe nose is holy\nThe tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy\nEverything is holy\nEverybody's holy\nEverywhere is holy\nEvery day is an eternity\nEvery man's an angel\n\nThe bum is holy as a seraphim\nThe madman is holy as you, my soul, are holy\nThe typewriter is holy\nThe poem is holy\nThe voice is holy\nThe hearers are holy\nThe ecstasy is holy\n\nHoly Peter, holy Allen, holy Solomon, holy Kerouac\nHoly Huncke, holy Burroughs, holy Cassady\nHoly the unknown buggered and suffering beggars\nHoly the hideous human angels\nHoly my mother in the insane asylum\nHoly the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas\nHoly the groaning saxophone\nHoly the bop apocalypse\nHoly the jazz bands, marijuana, hipsters, peace and junk and drums\n\nHoly the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements\nHoly the cafeterias filled with the millions\nHoly the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets\nHoly the lone juggernaut\nHoly the vast lamb of the middle class\nHoly the crazy shepherds of rebellion\n\nWho-digs Los Angeles is Los Angeles\n\nHoly New York, holy San Francisco, holy Peoria and Seattle\nHoly Paris, holy Tangiers, holy Moscow, holy Istanbul\n\nHoly time in eternity\nHoly eternity in time\nHoly the clocks in space\nHoly the fourth dimension\nHoly the fifth international\n\nHoly the angel in Moloch\nHoly the sea\nHoly the desert\nHoly the railroad\nHoly the locomotive\nHoly the visions\nHoly the hallucinations\nHoly the miracles\nHoly the eyeball\nHoly the abyss\n\nHoly forgiveness, mercy, charity, faith\nHoly ours, bodies, suffering, magnanimity\nHoly the supernatural extra-brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Footnote to Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl and Other Poems\n  duration_ms: 176000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n  Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n\n  The world is holy\n  The soul is holy\n  The skin is holy\n  The nose is holy\n  The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy\n  Everything is holy\n  Everybody's holy\n  Everywhere is holy\n  Every day is an eternity\n  Every man's an angel\n\n  The bum is holy as a seraphim\n  The madman is holy as you, my soul, are holy\n  The typewriter is holy\n  The poem is holy\n  The voice is holy\n  The hearers are holy\n  The ecstasy is holy\n\n  Holy Peter, holy Allen, holy Solomon, holy Kerouac\n  Holy Huncke, holy Burroughs, holy Cassady\n  Holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars\n  Holy the hideous human angels\n  Holy my mother in the insane asylum\n  Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas\n  Holy the groaning saxophone\n  Holy the bop apocalypse\n  Holy the jazz bands, marijuana, hipsters, peace and junk and drums\n\n  Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements\n  Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions\n  Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets\n  Holy the lone juggernaut\n  Holy the vast lamb of the middle class\n  Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion\n\n  Who-digs Los Angeles is Los Angeles\n\n  Holy New York, holy San Francisco, holy Peoria and Seattle\n  Holy Paris, holy Tangiers, holy Moscow, holy Istanbul\n\n  Holy time in eternity\n  Holy eternity in time\n  Holy the clocks in space\n  Holy the fourth dimension\n  Holy the fifth international\n\n  Holy the angel in Moloch\n  Holy the sea\n  Holy the desert\n  Holy the railroad\n  Holy the locomotive\n  Holy the visions\n  Holy the hallucinations\n  Holy the miracles\n  Holy the eyeball\n  Holy the abyss\n\n  Holy forgiveness, mercy, charity, faith\n  Holy ours, bodies, suffering, magnanimity\n  Holy the supernatural extra-brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul\n"},{"id":36796163,"name":"Footnote To Howl (Album Version) [Explicit]","trackName":"Footnote To Howl (Album Version) [Explicit]","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl (Remastered)","duration":175.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\nHoly holy holy holy holy holy holy\n\nThe world is holy\nThe soul is holy\nThe skin is holy\nThe nose is holy\nThe tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy\nEverything is holy\nEverybody's holy\nEverywhere is holy\nEvery day is an eternity\nEvery man's an angel\n\nThe bum is holy as a seraphim\nThe madman is holy as you, my soul, are holy\nThe typewriter is holy\nThe poem is holy\nThe voice is holy\nThe hearers are holy\nThe ecstasy is holy\n\nHoly Peter, holy Allen, holy Solomon, holy Kerouac\nHoly Huncke, holy Burroughs, holy Cassady\nHoly the unknown buggered and suffering beggars\nHoly the hideous human angels\nHoly my mother in the insane asylum\nHoly the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas\nHoly the groaning saxophone\nHoly the bop apocalypse\nHoly the jazz bands, marijuana, hipsters, peace and junk and drums\n\nHoly the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements\nHoly the cafeterias filled with the millions\nHoly the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets\nHoly the lone juggernaut\nHoly the vast lamb of the middle class\nHoly the crazy shepherds of rebellion\n\nWho-digs Los Angeles is Los Angeles\n\nHoly New York, holy San Francisco, holy Peoria and Seattle\nHoly Paris, holy Tangiers, holy Moscow, holy Istanbul\n\nHoly time in eternity\nHoly eternity in time\nHoly the clocks in space\nHoly the fourth dimension\nHoly the fifth international\n\nHoly the angel in Moloch\nHoly the sea\nHoly the desert\nHoly the railroad\nHoly the locomotive\nHoly the visions\nHoly the hallucinations\nHoly the miracles\nHoly the eyeball\nHoly the abyss\n\nHoly forgiveness, mercy, charity, faith\nHoly ours, bodies, suffering, magnanimity\nHoly the supernatural extra-brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.60] Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n[00:06.32] Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n[00:13.09] The world is holy\n[00:14.56] The soul is holy\n[00:16.32] The skin is holy\n[00:18.43] The nose is holy\n[00:20.15] The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy\n[00:24.70] Everything is holy\n[00:26.61] Everybody's holy\n[00:28.44] Everywhere is holy\n[00:30.30] Every day is an eternity\n[00:32.55] Every man's an angel\n[00:35.02] The bum is holy as a seraphim\n[00:38.67] The madman is holy as you, my soul, are holy\n[00:43.41] The typewriter is holy\n[00:45.23] The poem is holy\n[00:47.02] The voice is holy\n[00:49.23] The hearers are holy\n[00:51.01] The ecstasy is holy\n[00:53.94] Holy Peter, holy Allen, holy Solomon, holy Kerouac\n[00:59.48] Holy Huncke, holy Burroughs, holy Cassady\n[01:03.60] Holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars\n[01:07.88] Holy the hideous human angels\n[01:11.68] Holy my mother in the insane asylum\n[01:15.45] Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas\n[01:19.34] Holy the groaning saxophone\n[01:22.39] Holy the bop apocalypse\n[01:24.94] Holy the jazz bands, marijuana, hipsters, peace and junk and drums\n[01:32.91] Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements\n[01:37.69] Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions\n[01:41.45] Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets\n[01:46.52] Holy the lone juggernaut\n[01:49.82] Holy the vast lamb of the middle class\n[01:53.34] Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion\n[01:56.58] Who-digs Los Angeles is Los Angeles\n[02:00.54] Holy New York, holy San Francisco, holy Peoria and Seattle\n[02:05.28] Holy Paris, holy Tangiers, holy Moscow, holy Istanbul\n[02:12.24] Holy time in eternity\n[02:14.34] Holy eternity in time\n[02:16.69] Holy the clocks in space\n[02:18.79] Holy the fourth dimension\n[02:20.66] Holy the fifth international\n[02:22.84] Holy the angel in Moloch\n[02:25.81] Holy the sea\n[02:27.23] Holy the desert\n[02:28.66] Holy the railroad\n[02:30.15] Holy the locomotive\n[02:31.75] Holy the visions\n[02:33.00] Holy the hallucinations\n[02:34.97] Holy the miracles\n[02:36.41] Holy the eyeball\n[02:37.89] Holy the abyss\n[02:39.86] Holy forgiveness, mercy, charity, faith\n[02:43.58] Holy ours, bodies, suffering, magnanimity\n[02:48.87] Holy the supernatural extra-brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul\n[02:53.31] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Footnote To Howl (Album Version) [Explicit]\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl (Remastered)\n  duration_ms: 175000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n  start_ms: 600\n  end_ms: 6320\n- text: Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n  start_ms: 6320\n  end_ms: 13090\n- text: The world is holy\n  start_ms: 13090\n  end_ms: 14560\n- text: The soul is holy\n  start_ms: 14560\n  end_ms: 16320\n- text: The skin is holy\n  start_ms: 16320\n  end_ms: 18430\n- text: The nose is holy\n  start_ms: 18430\n  end_ms: 20150\n- text: The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy\n  start_ms: 20150\n  end_ms: 24700\n- text: Everything is holy\n  start_ms: 24700\n  end_ms: 26610\n- text: Everybody's holy\n  start_ms: 26610\n  end_ms: 28440\n- text: Everywhere is holy\n  start_ms: 28440\n  end_ms: 30300\n- text: Every day is an eternity\n  start_ms: 30300\n  end_ms: 32550\n- text: Every man's an angel\n  start_ms: 32550\n  end_ms: 35020\n- text: The bum is holy as a seraphim\n  start_ms: 35020\n  end_ms: 38670\n- text: The madman is holy as you, my soul, are holy\n  start_ms: 38670\n  end_ms: 43410\n- text: The typewriter is holy\n  start_ms: 43410\n  end_ms: 45230\n- text: The poem is holy\n  start_ms: 45230\n  end_ms: 47020\n- text: The voice is holy\n  start_ms: 47020\n  end_ms: 49230\n- text: The hearers are holy\n  start_ms: 49230\n  end_ms: 51010\n- text: The ecstasy is holy\n  start_ms: 51010\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Holy Peter, holy Allen, holy Solomon, holy Kerouac\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 59480\n- text: Holy Huncke, holy Burroughs, holy Cassady\n  start_ms: 59480\n  end_ms: 63600\n- text: Holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars\n  start_ms: 63600\n  end_ms: 67880\n- text: Holy the hideous human angels\n  start_ms: 67880\n  end_ms: 71680\n- text: Holy my mother in the insane asylum\n  start_ms: 71680\n  end_ms: 75450\n- text: Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas\n  start_ms: 75450\n  end_ms: 79340\n- text: Holy the groaning saxophone\n  start_ms: 79340\n  end_ms: 82390\n- text: Holy the bop apocalypse\n  start_ms: 82390\n  end_ms: 84940\n- text: Holy the jazz bands, marijuana, hipsters, peace and junk and drums\n  start_ms: 84940\n  end_ms: 92910\n- text: Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements\n  start_ms: 92910\n  end_ms: 97690\n- text: Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions\n  start_ms: 97690\n  end_ms: 101450\n- text: Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets\n  start_ms: 101450\n  end_ms: 106520\n- text: Holy the lone juggernaut\n  start_ms: 106520\n  end_ms: 109820\n- text: Holy the vast lamb of the middle class\n  start_ms: 109820\n  end_ms: 113340\n- text: Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion\n  start_ms: 113340\n  end_ms: 116580\n- text: Who-digs Los Angeles is Los Angeles\n  start_ms: 116580\n  end_ms: 120540\n- text: Holy New York, holy San Francisco, holy Peoria and Seattle\n  start_ms: 120540\n  end_ms: 125280\n- text: Holy Paris, holy Tangiers, holy Moscow, holy Istanbul\n  start_ms: 125280\n  end_ms: 132240\n- text: Holy time in eternity\n  start_ms: 132240\n  end_ms: 134340\n- text: Holy eternity in time\n  start_ms: 134340\n  end_ms: 136690\n- text: Holy the clocks in space\n  start_ms: 136690\n  end_ms: 138790\n- text: Holy the fourth dimension\n  start_ms: 138790\n  end_ms: 140660\n- text: Holy the fifth international\n  start_ms: 140660\n  end_ms: 142840\n- text: Holy the angel in Moloch\n  start_ms: 142840\n  end_ms: 145810\n- text: Holy the sea\n  start_ms: 145810\n  end_ms: 147230\n- text: Holy the desert\n  start_ms: 147230\n  end_ms: 148660\n- text: Holy the railroad\n  start_ms: 148660\n  end_ms: 150150\n- text: Holy the locomotive\n  start_ms: 150150\n  end_ms: 151750\n- text: Holy the visions\n  start_ms: 151750\n  end_ms: 153000\n- text: Holy the hallucinations\n  start_ms: 153000\n  end_ms: 154970\n- text: Holy the miracles\n  start_ms: 154970\n  end_ms: 156410\n- text: Holy the eyeball\n  start_ms: 156410\n  end_ms: 157890\n- text: Holy the abyss\n  start_ms: 157890\n  end_ms: 159860\n- text: Holy forgiveness, mercy, charity, faith\n  start_ms: 159860\n  end_ms: 163580\n- text: Holy ours, bodies, suffering, magnanimity\n  start_ms: 163580\n  end_ms: 168870\n- text: Holy the supernatural extra-brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul\n  start_ms: 168870\n  end_ms: 173310\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 173310\nplain: |-\n  Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n  Holy holy holy holy holy holy holy\n\n  The world is holy\n  The soul is holy\n  The skin is holy\n  The nose is holy\n  The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy\n  Everything is holy\n  Everybody's holy\n  Everywhere is holy\n  Every day is an eternity\n  Every man's an angel\n\n  The bum is holy as a seraphim\n  The madman is holy as you, my soul, are holy\n  The typewriter is holy\n  The poem is holy\n  The voice is holy\n  The hearers are holy\n  The ecstasy is holy\n\n  Holy Peter, holy Allen, holy Solomon, holy Kerouac\n  Holy Huncke, holy Burroughs, holy Cassady\n  Holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars\n  Holy the hideous human angels\n  Holy my mother in the insane asylum\n  Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas\n  Holy the groaning saxophone\n  Holy the bop apocalypse\n  Holy the jazz bands, marijuana, hipsters, peace and junk and drums\n\n  Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements\n  Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions\n  Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets\n  Holy the lone juggernaut\n  Holy the vast lamb of the middle class\n  Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion\n\n  Who-digs Los Angeles is Los Angeles\n\n  Holy New York, holy San Francisco, holy Peoria and Seattle\n  Holy Paris, holy Tangiers, holy Moscow, holy Istanbul\n\n  Holy time in eternity\n  Holy eternity in time\n  Holy the clocks in space\n  Holy the fourth dimension\n  Holy the fifth international\n\n  Holy the angel in Moloch\n  Holy the sea\n  Holy the desert\n  Holy the railroad\n  Holy the locomotive\n  Holy the visions\n  Holy the hallucinations\n  Holy the miracles\n  Holy the eyeball\n  Holy the abyss\n\n  Holy forgiveness, mercy, charity, faith\n  Holy ours, bodies, suffering, magnanimity\n  Holy the supernatural extra-brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul\n"},{"id":38940664,"name":"Howl - Live / 1/29/1959","trackName":"Howl - Live / 1/29/1959","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl and Other Poems","duration":1307.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness\nStarving, hysterical, naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn\nLooking for an angry fix\nAngel headed hipsters\nconnection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,\nwho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in\nthe supernatural darkness of cold-water flats\nfloating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,\nwho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw\nMohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,\nwho passed through universities with radiant cool eyes\nhallucinating Arkansas and\nBlake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,\nwho were expelled from the academies for crazy &\npublishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,\nwho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear,\nburning their money in wastebaskets and\nlistening to the Terror through the wall,\nwho got busted in their pubic beards returning\nthrough Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,\nwho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in\nParadise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nwith dreams, with drugs,\nwith waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,\nincomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the\nmind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson,\nilluminating all the motionless world of Time between,\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns,\nwine drunkenness over the rooftops,\nstorefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light,\nsun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter\ndusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,\nwho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery\nto holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children\nbrought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak\nof brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,\nwho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and\nsat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate\nFugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,\nwho talked continuously seventy hours from park to\npad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,\na lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the\nstoops off fire escapes off\nwindowsills off Empire State out of the moon,\nyacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and\nanecdotes and eyeball kicks and\nshocks of hospitals and jails and wars,\nwhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and\nnights with brilliant eyes,\nmeat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,\nwho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a\ntrail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,\nsuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and\nmigraines of China under\njunk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,\nwho wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad\nyard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,\nwho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing\nthrough snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,\nwho studied Plotinus Poe St.\nJohn of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because\nthe cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,\nwho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking\nvisionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,\nwho thought they were only mad when\nBaltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,\nwho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on\nthe impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,\nwho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex\nor soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about\nAmerica and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,\nwho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing\nbut the shadow of dungarees and the lava and\nash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,\nwho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and\nshorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their\ndark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,\nwho burned cigarette holes in their arms\nprotesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,\nwho distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and\nundressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down,\nand wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,\nwho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked\nand trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,\nwho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in\npolicecars for committing no crime but their\nown wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,\nwho howled on their knees in the subway and were\ndragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,\nwho let themselves be fucked in the ass by\nsaintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,\nwho blew and were blown by those human seraphim,\nthe sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,\nwho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the\ngrass of public parks and cemeteries\nscattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,\nwho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob\nbehind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the\nblond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,\nwho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed\nshrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of\nthe womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her\nass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom,\nwho copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a\nsweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed,\nand continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on\nthe wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and\ncome eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,\nwho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset,\nand were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch\nof the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,\nwho went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.\nC., secret hero of these poems,\ncocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable\nlays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards,\nmoviehouses' rickety rows,\non mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar\nroadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially\nsecret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,\nwho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams,\nwoke on a sudden Manhattan,\nand picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless\nTokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron\ndreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,\nwho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank\ndocks waiting for a door in the East River\nto open to a room full of steam-heat and opium,\nwho created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the\nHudson under the wartime blur floodlight of the moon\n& their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,\nwho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested\nthe crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,\nwho wept at the romance of the streets with\ntheir pushcarts full of onions and bad music,\nwho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the\nbridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,\nwho coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame\nunder the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,\nwho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty\nincantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,\nwho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail\nborsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,\nwho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,\nwho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for\nEternity outside of Time,\n& alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,\nwho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully,\ngave up and were forced to open antique stores\nwhere they thought they were growing old and cried,\nwho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison\nAvenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the\niron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies\nof advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent\neditors, or were run down by the\ndrunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,\nwho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked\naway unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of\nChinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,\nwho sang out of their windows in despair,\nfell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic,\nleaped on negroes, cried all over the street,\ndanced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of\nnostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw\nup groaning into the bloody toilet,\nmoans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,\nwho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each\nother's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude\nwatch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,\nwho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a\nvision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,\nwho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver,\nwho came back to Denver & waited in vain,\nwho watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally\nwent away to find out the Time,\n& now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,\nwho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each\nother's salvation and light and breasts,\nuntil the soul illuminated its hair for a second,\nwho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible\ncriminals with golden heads and the charm of\nreality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,\nwho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit,\nor Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern\nPacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to\nNarcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,\nwho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism\n& were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,\nwho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently\npresented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven\nheads and harlequin speech of\nsuicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,\nand who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol\nelectricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy\noccupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,\nwho in humorless protest overturned only one\nsymbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,\nreturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood,\nand tears and fingers,\nto the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls,\nbickering with the echoes of the soul,\nrocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of\nlove, dream of life a nightmare,\nbodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,\nwith mother finally,\nand the last fantastic book flung out of the\ntenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.\nM.\nand the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last\nfurnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture,\na yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet,\nand even that imaginary,\nnothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe,\nand now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nand who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden\nflash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis\ncatalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,\nwho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images\njuxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual\nimages and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of\nconsciousness together jumping with\nsensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nto recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand\nbefore you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame,\nrejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to\nthe rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,\nthe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown,\nyet putting down here what might be\nleft to say in time come after death,\nand rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn\nshadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for\nlove into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nwith the absolute heart of the poem of life\nbutchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl - Live / 1/29/1959\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl and Other Poems\n  duration_ms: 1307000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness\n  Starving, hysterical, naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn\n  Looking for an angry fix\n  Angel headed hipsters\n  connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,\n  who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in\n  the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats\n  floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,\n  who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw\n  Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,\n  who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes\n  hallucinating Arkansas and\n  Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,\n  who were expelled from the academies for crazy &\n  publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,\n  who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear,\n  burning their money in wastebaskets and\n  listening to the Terror through the wall,\n  who got busted in their pubic beards returning\n  through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,\n  who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in\n  Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  with dreams, with drugs,\n  with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,\n  incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the\n  mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson,\n  illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns,\n  wine drunkenness over the rooftops,\n  storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light,\n  sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter\n  dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,\n  who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery\n  to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children\n  brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak\n  of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,\n  who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and\n  sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate\n  Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,\n  who talked continuously seventy hours from park to\n  pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,\n  a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the\n  stoops off fire escapes off\n  windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,\n  yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and\n  anecdotes and eyeball kicks and\n  shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,\n  whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and\n  nights with brilliant eyes,\n  meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,\n  who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a\n  trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,\n  suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and\n  migraines of China under\n  junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,\n  who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad\n  yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,\n  who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing\n  through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,\n  who studied Plotinus Poe St.\n  John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because\n  the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,\n  who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking\n  visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,\n  who thought they were only mad when\n  Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,\n  who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on\n  the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,\n  who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex\n  or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about\n  America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,\n  who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing\n  but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and\n  ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,\n  who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and\n  shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their\n  dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,\n  who burned cigarette holes in their arms\n  protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,\n  who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and\n  undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down,\n  and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,\n  who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked\n  and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,\n  who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in\n  policecars for committing no crime but their\n  own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,\n  who howled on their knees in the subway and were\n  dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,\n  who let themselves be fucked in the ass by\n  saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,\n  who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,\n  the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,\n  who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the\n  grass of public parks and cemeteries\n  scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,\n  who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob\n  behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the\n  blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,\n  who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed\n  shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of\n  the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her\n  ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom,\n  who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a\n  sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed,\n  and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on\n  the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and\n  come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,\n  who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset,\n  and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch\n  of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,\n  who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.\n  C., secret hero of these poems,\n  cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable\n  lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards,\n  moviehouses' rickety rows,\n  on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar\n  roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially\n  secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,\n  who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams,\n  woke on a sudden Manhattan,\n  and picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless\n  Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron\n  dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,\n  who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank\n  docks waiting for a door in the East River\n  to open to a room full of steam-heat and opium,\n  who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the\n  Hudson under the wartime blur floodlight of the moon\n  & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,\n  who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested\n  the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,\n  who wept at the romance of the streets with\n  their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,\n  who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the\n  bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,\n  who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame\n  under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,\n  who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty\n  incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,\n  who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail\n  borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,\n  who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,\n  who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for\n  Eternity outside of Time,\n  & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,\n  who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully,\n  gave up and were forced to open antique stores\n  where they thought they were growing old and cried,\n  who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison\n  Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the\n  iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies\n  of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent\n  editors, or were run down by the\n  drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,\n  who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked\n  away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of\n  Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,\n  who sang out of their windows in despair,\n  fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic,\n  leaped on negroes, cried all over the street,\n  danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of\n  nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw\n  up groaning into the bloody toilet,\n  moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,\n  who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each\n  other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude\n  watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,\n  who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a\n  vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,\n  who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver,\n  who came back to Denver & waited in vain,\n  who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally\n  went away to find out the Time,\n  & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,\n  who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each\n  other's salvation and light and breasts,\n  until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,\n  who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible\n  criminals with golden heads and the charm of\n  reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,\n  who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit,\n  or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern\n  Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to\n  Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,\n  who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism\n  & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,\n  who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently\n  presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven\n  heads and harlequin speech of\n  suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,\n  and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol\n  electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy\n  occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,\n  who in humorless protest overturned only one\n  symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,\n  returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood,\n  and tears and fingers,\n  to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls,\n  bickering with the echoes of the soul,\n  rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of\n  love, dream of life a nightmare,\n  bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,\n  with mother finally,\n  and the last fantastic book flung out of the\n  tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.\n  M.\n  and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last\n  furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture,\n  a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet,\n  and even that imaginary,\n  nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe,\n  and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden\n  flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis\n  catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,\n  who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images\n  juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual\n  images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of\n  consciousness together jumping with\n  sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand\n  before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame,\n  rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to\n  the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,\n  the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown,\n  yet putting down here what might be\n  left to say in time come after death,\n  and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn\n  shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for\n  love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  with the absolute heart of the poem of life\n  butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n"},{"id":37474583,"name":"Howl (Part II)","trackName":"Howl (Part II)","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"At Reed College: The First Recorded Reading of Howl & Other Poems","duration":76.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Two\n\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminum\nBashed open their skulls\nAnd ate up their brains and imagination?\n\nMoloch, solitude, filth, ugliness\nAshcans and unobtainable dollars\nGarbage heap of eyebrows and brains\nChildren screaming under the stairways\nBoys sobbing in armies\nOld men weeping in the parks\nMoloch, Moloch, nightmare of Moloch\nMoloch the loveless, mental Moloch\nMoloch, the heavy judger of men\n\nMoloch, the granite-skull monolith\nMoloch, the crossbone congress and prison\nMoloch, whose buildings are judgment\nMoloch, the vast stone of war\nMoloch, the stunned governments\n\nNo, I don't really feel like reading anymore\nI'm sort of like, I haven't got any kind of steam\nSo I'd like to cut, do you mind?","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.42] Two\n[00:03.70] \n[00:06.53] What sphinx of cement and aluminum\n[00:09.65] Bashed open their skulls\n[00:11.60] And ate up their brains and imagination?\n[00:15.21] Moloch, solitude, filth, ugliness\n[00:21.24] Ashcans and unobtainable dollars\n[00:24.20] Garbage heap of eyebrows and brains\n[00:27.14] Children screaming under the stairways\n[00:30.32] Boys sobbing in armies\n[00:32.97] Old men weeping in the parks\n[00:35.71] Moloch, Moloch, nightmare of Moloch\n[00:39.73] Moloch the loveless, mental Moloch\n[00:42.92] Moloch, the heavy judger of men\n[00:46.23] Moloch, the granite-skull monolith\n[00:49.71] Moloch, the crossbone congress and prison\n[00:53.14] Moloch, whose buildings are judgment\n[00:55.98] Moloch, the vast stone of war\n[00:58.70] Moloch, the stunned governments\n[01:02.48] No, I don't really feel like reading anymore\n[01:04.59] I'm sort of like, I haven't got any kind of steam\n[01:08.55] So I'd like to cut, do you mind?\n[01:16.19] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl (Part II)\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: 'At Reed College: The First Recorded Reading of Howl & Other Poems'\n  duration_ms: 76225\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Two\n  start_ms: 420\n  end_ms: 3700\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 3700\n  end_ms: 6530\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminum\n  start_ms: 6530\n  end_ms: 9650\n- text: Bashed open their skulls\n  start_ms: 9650\n  end_ms: 11600\n- text: And ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 11600\n  end_ms: 15210\n- text: Moloch, solitude, filth, ugliness\n  start_ms: 15210\n  end_ms: 21240\n- text: Ashcans and unobtainable dollars\n  start_ms: 21240\n  end_ms: 24200\n- text: Garbage heap of eyebrows and brains\n  start_ms: 24200\n  end_ms: 27140\n- text: Children screaming under the stairways\n  start_ms: 27140\n  end_ms: 30320\n- text: Boys sobbing in armies\n  start_ms: 30320\n  end_ms: 32970\n- text: Old men weeping in the parks\n  start_ms: 32970\n  end_ms: 35710\n- text: Moloch, Moloch, nightmare of Moloch\n  start_ms: 35710\n  end_ms: 39730\n- text: Moloch the loveless, mental Moloch\n  start_ms: 39730\n  end_ms: 42920\n- text: Moloch, the heavy judger of men\n  start_ms: 42920\n  end_ms: 46230\n- text: Moloch, the granite-skull monolith\n  start_ms: 46230\n  end_ms: 49710\n- text: Moloch, the crossbone congress and prison\n  start_ms: 49710\n  end_ms: 53140\n- text: Moloch, whose buildings are judgment\n  start_ms: 53140\n  end_ms: 55980\n- text: Moloch, the vast stone of war\n  start_ms: 55980\n  end_ms: 58700\n- text: Moloch, the stunned governments\n  start_ms: 58700\n  end_ms: 62480\n- text: No, I don't really feel like reading anymore\n  start_ms: 62480\n  end_ms: 64590\n- text: I'm sort of like, I haven't got any kind of steam\n  start_ms: 64590\n  end_ms: 68550\n- text: So I'd like to cut, do you mind?\n  start_ms: 68550\n  end_ms: 76190\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 76190\nplain: |-\n  Two\n\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminum\n  Bashed open their skulls\n  And ate up their brains and imagination?\n\n  Moloch, solitude, filth, ugliness\n  Ashcans and unobtainable dollars\n  Garbage heap of eyebrows and brains\n  Children screaming under the stairways\n  Boys sobbing in armies\n  Old men weeping in the parks\n  Moloch, Moloch, nightmare of Moloch\n  Moloch the loveless, mental Moloch\n  Moloch, the heavy judger of men\n\n  Moloch, the granite-skull monolith\n  Moloch, the crossbone congress and prison\n  Moloch, whose buildings are judgment\n  Moloch, the vast stone of war\n  Moloch, the stunned governments\n\n  No, I don't really feel like reading anymore\n  I'm sort of like, I haven't got any kind of steam\n  So I'd like to cut, do you mind?\n"},{"id":15171970,"name":"A Supermarket In California - Live / 1/29/1959","trackName":"A Supermarket In California - Live / 1/29/1959","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl","duration":138.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked\nDown the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking\nIn my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon\nFruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!\nWhat peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at\nNight! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!\nI saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking\nAmong the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys\nI heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops?\nWhat price bananas? Are you my Angel?\nI wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you\nAnd followed in my imagination by the store detective\nWe strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy\nTasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the\nWhere are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in a hour\nWhich way does your beard point tonight?\n(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and\nWill we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade\nTo shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely\nWill we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automo-\nBiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?\nAh, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America\nDid you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a\nSmoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: A Supermarket In California - Live / 1/29/1959\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl\n  duration_ms: 138000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked\n  Down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking\n  In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon\n  Fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!\n  What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at\n  Night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!\n  I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking\n  Among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys\n  I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops?\n  What price bananas? Are you my Angel?\n  I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you\n  And followed in my imagination by the store detective\n  We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy\n  Tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the\n  Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in a hour\n  Which way does your beard point tonight?\n  (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and\n  Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade\n  To shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely\n  Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automo-\n  Biles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?\n  Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America\n  Did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a\n  Smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of\n"},{"id":33550149,"name":"America","trackName":"America","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl","duration":289.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"America\n\nAmerica I've given you all and now I'm nothing\n\nAmerica two dollars and twenty-seven cents\nJanuary 17, 1956\n\nI can't stand my own mind\n\nAmerica when will we end the human war\n\nGo fuck yourself with your atom bomb\nI don't feel good\nDon't bother me\nI won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind\n\nAmerica when will you be angelic\n\nWhen will you take off your clothes\nWhen will you look at yourself through the grave\nWhen will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites\nAmerica why are your libraries full of tears\nAmerica when will you send your eggs to India\nI'm sick of your insane demands\nWhen can I go into the supermarket\nAnd buy what I need with my good looks\nAmerica after all it is you and I who are perfect\nNot the next world\n\nYour machinery is too much for me\nYou made me want to be a saint\nThere must be some other way to settle this argument\n\nBurroughs is in Tangiers\nI don't think he'll come back\nIt's sinister\nAre you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke\nI'm trying to come to the point\nI refuse to give up my obsession\nAmerica stop pushing\nI know what I'm doing\n\nAmerica the plum blossoms are falling\nI haven't read the newspapers for months\nEvery day somebody goes on trial for murder\nAmerica I feel sentimental about the Wobblies\nAmerica I used to be a communist when I was a kid\nI'm not sorry\n\nI smoke marijuana every chance I get\nI sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet\nWhenever I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid\nMy mind is made up\nThere's going to be trouble\nYou should have seen me reading Marx\nI have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations\n\nAmerica I still haven't told you what you did\nTo Uncle Max after he came over from Russia\n\nI'm addressing you\nAre you going to let your emotional life be run by Time magazine\nI'm obsessed by Time magazine\nI read it every week\nIts cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candy store\nI read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library\nIt's always telling me about responsibility\nBusinessmen are serious\nMovie producers are serious\nEverybody's serious but me\n\nIt occurs to me that I am America\nI am talking to myself again\nAsia is rising against me\nI haven't got a Chinaman's chance\n\nI better consider my national resources\n\nMy national resources consist of two joints of marijuana\nMillions of genitals\nAn unpublishable private literature that goes fourteen hundred m-p-h\nAnd twenty-five thousand mental institutions\nI say nothing about my prisons\nNor the millions of underprivileged who live in my\nFlower pots under the light of five hundred suns\nI have already abolished the whorehouses of France\nTangiers are the next to go\nMy ambition is to be president despite the fact that I'm a Catholic\n\nAmerica how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood\nI will continue\nLike Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles\nMore so they're all different sexes\nAmerica I will sell you strophes twenty-five hundred apiece\nFive hundred down on your old strophe\n\nAmerica free Tom Mooney\nAmerica save the Spanish Loyalists\nAmerica Sacco and Vanzetti must not die\nI am the Scottsboro Boys\n\nAmerica when I was seven mama took me to communist cell meetings\nThey sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket\nA ticket cost a nickel and the speeches were free\nEverybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers\nIt was all so sincere you have no idea\nWhat a good thing the party was in 1835\nScott Nearing was a grand old man\nA real mensch\n\nMother Blur made me cry\nI once saw Israel Amster playing\n\nEverybody must have been a spy\n\nAmerica you don't really want to go to war\nAmerica it's them bad Russians\nThem Russians them Russians and them Chinamen and them Russians\n\nThe Russia wants to eat us alive\nThe Russia's powermad\nShe wants to take our cars from out our garages\nHer wants to grab Chicago\nHer needs Red Reader's Digesteses\n\nHer wants are auto plants in Siberia\nHim big bureaucracy running our filling stations\nThat no good\nUgh\nHim make Indians learn read\nHim need big black niggers\nAaahhh\nHer make us all work sixteen hours a day\nHelp\n\nAmerica this is quite serious\nAmerica this is the impression I get from looking in a television set\nAmerica is this correct\nI'd better get right down to the job\nIt's true I don't want to join the army or\nTurn lathes in precision parts factories\nI'm nearsighted and psychopathic anyway\n\nAmerica I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: America\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl\n  duration_ms: 289000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  America\n\n  America I've given you all and now I'm nothing\n\n  America two dollars and twenty-seven cents\n  January 17, 1956\n\n  I can't stand my own mind\n\n  America when will we end the human war\n\n  Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb\n  I don't feel good\n  Don't bother me\n  I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind\n\n  America when will you be angelic\n\n  When will you take off your clothes\n  When will you look at yourself through the grave\n  When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites\n  America why are your libraries full of tears\n  America when will you send your eggs to India\n  I'm sick of your insane demands\n  When can I go into the supermarket\n  And buy what I need with my good looks\n  America after all it is you and I who are perfect\n  Not the next world\n\n  Your machinery is too much for me\n  You made me want to be a saint\n  There must be some other way to settle this argument\n\n  Burroughs is in Tangiers\n  I don't think he'll come back\n  It's sinister\n  Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke\n  I'm trying to come to the point\n  I refuse to give up my obsession\n  America stop pushing\n  I know what I'm doing\n\n  America the plum blossoms are falling\n  I haven't read the newspapers for months\n  Every day somebody goes on trial for murder\n  America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies\n  America I used to be a communist when I was a kid\n  I'm not sorry\n\n  I smoke marijuana every chance I get\n  I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet\n  Whenever I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid\n  My mind is made up\n  There's going to be trouble\n  You should have seen me reading Marx\n  I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations\n\n  America I still haven't told you what you did\n  To Uncle Max after he came over from Russia\n\n  I'm addressing you\n  Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time magazine\n  I'm obsessed by Time magazine\n  I read it every week\n  Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candy store\n  I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library\n  It's always telling me about responsibility\n  Businessmen are serious\n  Movie producers are serious\n  Everybody's serious but me\n\n  It occurs to me that I am America\n  I am talking to myself again\n  Asia is rising against me\n  I haven't got a Chinaman's chance\n\n  I better consider my national resources\n\n  My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana\n  Millions of genitals\n  An unpublishable private literature that goes fourteen hundred m-p-h\n  And twenty-five thousand mental institutions\n  I say nothing about my prisons\n  Nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my\n  Flower pots under the light of five hundred suns\n  I have already abolished the whorehouses of France\n  Tangiers are the next to go\n  My ambition is to be president despite the fact that I'm a Catholic\n\n  America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood\n  I will continue\n  Like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles\n  More so they're all different sexes\n  America I will sell you strophes twenty-five hundred apiece\n  Five hundred down on your old strophe\n\n  America free Tom Mooney\n  America save the Spanish Loyalists\n  America Sacco and Vanzetti must not die\n  I am the Scottsboro Boys\n\n  America when I was seven mama took me to communist cell meetings\n  They sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket\n  A ticket cost a nickel and the speeches were free\n  Everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers\n  It was all so sincere you have no idea\n  What a good thing the party was in 1835\n  Scott Nearing was a grand old man\n  A real mensch\n\n  Mother Blur made me cry\n  I once saw Israel Amster playing\n\n  Everybody must have been a spy\n\n  America you don't really want to go to war\n  America it's them bad Russians\n  Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen and them Russians\n\n  The Russia wants to eat us alive\n  The Russia's powermad\n  She wants to take our cars from out our garages\n  Her wants to grab Chicago\n  Her needs Red Reader's Digesteses\n\n  Her wants are auto plants in Siberia\n  Him big bureaucracy running our filling stations\n  That no good\n  Ugh\n  Him make Indians learn read\n  Him need big black niggers\n  Aaahhh\n  Her make us all work sixteen hours a day\n  Help\n\n  America this is quite serious\n  America this is the impression I get from looking in a television set\n  America is this correct\n  I'd better get right down to the job\n  It's true I don't want to join the army or\n  Turn lathes in precision parts factories\n  I'm nearsighted and psychopathic anyway\n\n  America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel\n"},{"id":35966692,"name":"In Back Of The Real","trackName":"In Back Of The Real","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl","duration":48.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"railroad yard in San Jose\nI wandered desolate\nin front of a tank factory\nand sat on a bench\nnear the switchman's shack.\nA flower lay on the hay on\nthe asphalt highway\nI thought--It had a\nbrittle black stem and\ncorolla of yellowish dirty\nspikes like Jesus' inchlong\ncrown, and a soiled\ndry center cotton tuft\nlike a used shaving brush\nthat's been lying under\nthe garage for a year.\nYellow, yellow flower, and\nflower of industry,\ntough spiky ugly flower,\nflower nonetheless,\nwith the form of the great yellow\nRose in your brain!\nThis is the flower of the World.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: In Back Of The Real\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl\n  duration_ms: 48000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  railroad yard in San Jose\n  I wandered desolate\n  in front of a tank factory\n  and sat on a bench\n  near the switchman's shack.\n  A flower lay on the hay on\n  the asphalt highway\n  I thought--It had a\n  brittle black stem and\n  corolla of yellowish dirty\n  spikes like Jesus' inchlong\n  crown, and a soiled\n  dry center cotton tuft\n  like a used shaving brush\n  that's been lying under\n  the garage for a year.\n  Yellow, yellow flower, and\n  flower of industry,\n  tough spiky ugly flower,\n  flower nonetheless,\n  with the form of the great yellow\n  Rose in your brain!\n  This is the flower of the World.\n"},{"id":30326535,"name":"Howl","trackName":"Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"The Great Modern Poets","duration":1108.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: The Great Modern Poets\n  duration_ms: 1108000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":22756937,"name":"Howl","trackName":"Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Bob Dylan's Greenwich Village: Sounds from the Scene in 1961, Disc 1 of 2","duration":275.6963328,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: 'Bob Dylan''s Greenwich Village: Sounds from the Scene in 1961, Disc 1 of 2'\n  duration_ms: 275696\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":35263511,"name":"Howl","trackName":"Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Beat Generation","duration":1308.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Beat Generation\n  duration_ms: 1308000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":28499107,"name":"Howl","trackName":"Howl","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Bob Dylan's Greenwich Village","duration":276.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For Carl Solomon\nI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\nDragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\nAngelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\nWho poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\nWho bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\nWho passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\nWho were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\nWho cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\nWho got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\nWho ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\nWith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\nIncomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\nPeyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\nWho chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\nWho sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\nWho talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\nA lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\nYacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\nWhole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\nWho vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\nSuffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\nWho wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\nWho lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\nWho studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\nWho loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\nWho thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\nWho jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\nWho lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\nWho disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\nWho reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\nWho burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\nWho broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\nWho bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\nWho howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\nWho let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\nWho blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\nWho balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\nWho hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\nWho lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\nWho copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\nWho sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\nWho faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\nWho walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\nWho created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\nWho ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\nWho wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\nWho sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\nWho scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\nWho cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\nWho plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\nWho threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\nWho cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\nWho were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\nWho jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\nWho sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\nWho barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\nWho drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\nWho journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\nWho fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\nWho crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\nWho retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\nWho demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\nWho threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\nAnd who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\nWho in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\nReturning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\nPilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\nWith mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\nAh, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\nAnd who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\nWho dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\nPater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\nTo recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\nThe madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\nAnd rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\neli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\nsaxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\nWith the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\nWhat sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\nMoloch\n! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\nMoloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\nMoloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\nMoloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\nMoloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\nMoloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\nMoloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\nMoloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\nMoloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\nThey broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\nVisions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\nDreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\nBreakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\nReal holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\nCarl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you're madder than I am\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you must feel strange\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you imitate the shade of my mother\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you've murdered your twelve secretaries\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you laugh at this invisible humour\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\nI'm with you in Rockland\nWhere we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\nI'm with you in Rockland\nIn my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night","syncedLyrics":"[00:24.88] For Carl Solomon\n[00:29.81] I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n[00:37.86] Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n[00:44.85] Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n[00:52.86] Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n[01:05.02] Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n[01:13.15] Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n[01:24.13] Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n[01:33.22] Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n[01:40.24] Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n[01:47.30] Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n[01:56.30] With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n[02:02.41] Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n[02:14.42] Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n[02:34.53] Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n[02:52.69] Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n[03:05.78] Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n[03:11.77] A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n[03:23.45] Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n[03:32.40] Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n[03:41.43] Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n[03:48.54] Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n[03:57.56] Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n[04:06.49] Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n[04:12.38] Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n[04:21.70] Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n[04:29.99] Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n[04:35.96] Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n[04:43.94] Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n[04:58.09] Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n[05:10.09] Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n[05:21.13] Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n[05:39.20] Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n[05:44.86] Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n[05:54.99] Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n[06:02.07] Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n[06:08.09] Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n[06:15.04] Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n[06:25.00] Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n[06:35.01] Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n[06:52.19] Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n[07:11.21] Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n[07:24.32] Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n[08:10.90] Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n[08:20.03] Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n[08:31.15] Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n[08:39.10] Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n[08:45.22] Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n[09:00.22] Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n[09:08.25] Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n[09:16.22] Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n[09:20.26] Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n[09:29.30] Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n[09:37.49] Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n[09:59.55] Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n[10:08.58] Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n[10:32.69] Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n[10:42.75] Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n[10:51.84] Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n[11:07.84] Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n[11:16.94] Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n[11:29.14] Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n[11:43.18] Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n[11:49.24] Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n[12:05.31] And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n[12:15.37] Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n[12:24.42] Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n[12:33.52] Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n[12:50.64] With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n[13:14.66] Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n[13:22.77] And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n[13:36.99] Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n[13:57.18] Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n[14:00.12] To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n[14:18.22] The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n[14:27.38] And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n[14:38.48] eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n[14:42.40] saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n[14:46.50] With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n[14:53.56] What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n[15:08.53] Moloch\n[15:10.56] ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n[15:23.72] Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n[15:32.75] Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n[15:51.85] Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n[16:11.98] Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n[16:32.07] Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n[16:55.06] Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n[17:09.07] Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n[17:31.16] Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n[17:48.22] They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n[17:59.41] Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n[18:08.45] Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n[18:16.44] Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n[18:34.58] Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n[18:50.75] Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n[18:58.89] Where you're madder than I am\n[19:01.72] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:02.78] Where you must feel strange\n[19:04.83] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:05.88] Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n[19:09.85] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:10.83] Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n[19:13.97] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:14.97] Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n[19:19.05] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:21.06] Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n[19:24.06] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:25.05] Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n[19:30.16] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:31.12] Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n[19:35.19] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:36.13] Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n[19:41.15] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:42.24] Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n[19:47.28] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:48.23] Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n[19:53.12] I'm with you in Rockland\n[19:55.24] Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n[20:02.50] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:04.48] Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n[20:12.57] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:13.62] Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n[20:22.13] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:23.12] Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n[20:30.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:31.29] Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n[20:38.21] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:40.23] Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n[20:48.27] I'm with you in Rockland\n[20:50.25] Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n[21:13.42] I'm with you in Rockland\n[21:16.42] In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n[21:30.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Howl\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Bob Dylan's Greenwich Village\n  duration_ms: 276000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For Carl Solomon\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 29810\n- text: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  start_ms: 29810\n  end_ms: 37860\n- text: Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  start_ms: 37860\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 52860\n- text: Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  start_ms: 52860\n  end_ms: 65020\n- text: Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  start_ms: 65020\n  end_ms: 73150\n- text: Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  start_ms: 73150\n  end_ms: 84130\n- text: Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  start_ms: 84130\n  end_ms: 93220\n- text: Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  start_ms: 93220\n  end_ms: 100240\n- text: Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  start_ms: 100240\n  end_ms: 107300\n- text: Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  start_ms: 107300\n  end_ms: 116300\n- text: With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  start_ms: 116300\n  end_ms: 122410\n- text: Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  start_ms: 122410\n  end_ms: 134420\n- text: Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  start_ms: 134420\n  end_ms: 154530\n- text: Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  start_ms: 154530\n  end_ms: 172690\n- text: Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  start_ms: 172690\n  end_ms: 185780\n- text: Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  start_ms: 185780\n  end_ms: 191770\n- text: A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  start_ms: 191770\n  end_ms: 203450\n- text: Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  start_ms: 203450\n  end_ms: 212400\n- text: Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  start_ms: 212400\n  end_ms: 221430\n- text: Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  start_ms: 221430\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 237560\n- text: Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  start_ms: 237560\n  end_ms: 246490\n- text: Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  start_ms: 246490\n  end_ms: 252380\n- text: Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  start_ms: 252380\n  end_ms: 261700\n- text: Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  start_ms: 261700\n  end_ms: 269990\n- text: Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  start_ms: 269990\n  end_ms: 275960\n- text: Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  start_ms: 275960\n  end_ms: 283940\n- text: Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  start_ms: 283940\n  end_ms: 298090\n- text: Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  start_ms: 298090\n  end_ms: 310090\n- text: Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  start_ms: 310090\n  end_ms: 321130\n- text: Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  start_ms: 321130\n  end_ms: 339200\n- text: Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  start_ms: 339200\n  end_ms: 344860\n- text: Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  start_ms: 344860\n  end_ms: 354990\n- text: Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  start_ms: 354990\n  end_ms: 362070\n- text: Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  start_ms: 362070\n  end_ms: 368090\n- text: Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  start_ms: 368090\n  end_ms: 375040\n- text: Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  start_ms: 375040\n  end_ms: 385000\n- text: Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  start_ms: 385000\n  end_ms: 395010\n- text: Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  start_ms: 395010\n  end_ms: 412190\n- text: Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  start_ms: 412190\n  end_ms: 431210\n- text: Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  start_ms: 431210\n  end_ms: 444320\n- text: Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  start_ms: 444320\n  end_ms: 490900\n- text: Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  start_ms: 490900\n  end_ms: 500030\n- text: Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  start_ms: 500030\n  end_ms: 511150\n- text: Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  start_ms: 511150\n  end_ms: 519100\n- text: Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  start_ms: 519100\n  end_ms: 525220\n- text: Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  start_ms: 525220\n  end_ms: 540220\n- text: Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  start_ms: 540220\n  end_ms: 548250\n- text: Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  start_ms: 548250\n  end_ms: 556220\n- text: Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  start_ms: 556220\n  end_ms: 560260\n- text: Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  start_ms: 560260\n  end_ms: 569300\n- text: Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  start_ms: 569300\n  end_ms: 577490\n- text: Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  start_ms: 577490\n  end_ms: 599550\n- text: Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  start_ms: 599550\n  end_ms: 608580\n- text: Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  start_ms: 608580\n  end_ms: 632690\n- text: Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  start_ms: 632690\n  end_ms: 642750\n- text: Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  start_ms: 642750\n  end_ms: 651840\n- text: Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  start_ms: 651840\n  end_ms: 667840\n- text: Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  start_ms: 667840\n  end_ms: 676940\n- text: Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  start_ms: 676940\n  end_ms: 689140\n- text: Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  start_ms: 689140\n  end_ms: 703180\n- text: Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  start_ms: 703180\n  end_ms: 709240\n- text: Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  start_ms: 709240\n  end_ms: 725310\n- text: And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  start_ms: 725310\n  end_ms: 735370\n- text: Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  start_ms: 735370\n  end_ms: 744420\n- text: Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  start_ms: 744420\n  end_ms: 753520\n- text: Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  start_ms: 753520\n  end_ms: 770640\n- text: With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  start_ms: 770640\n  end_ms: 794660\n- text: Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  start_ms: 794660\n  end_ms: 802770\n- text: And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  start_ms: 802770\n  end_ms: 816990\n- text: Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  start_ms: 816990\n  end_ms: 837180\n- text: Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  start_ms: 837180\n  end_ms: 840120\n- text: To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  start_ms: 840120\n  end_ms: 858220\n- text: The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  start_ms: 858220\n  end_ms: 867380\n- text: And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  start_ms: 867380\n  end_ms: 878480\n- text: eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  start_ms: 878480\n  end_ms: 882400\n- text: saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  start_ms: 882400\n  end_ms: 886500\n- text: With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  start_ms: 886500\n  end_ms: 893560\n- text: What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  start_ms: 893560\n  end_ms: 908530\n- text: Moloch\n  start_ms: 908530\n  end_ms: 910560\n- text: '! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!'\n  start_ms: 910560\n  end_ms: 923720\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  start_ms: 923720\n  end_ms: 932750\n- text: Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  start_ms: 932750\n  end_ms: 951850\n- text: Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  start_ms: 951850\n  end_ms: 971980\n- text: Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  start_ms: 971980\n  end_ms: 992070\n- text: Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  start_ms: 992070\n  end_ms: 1015060\n- text: Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  start_ms: 1015060\n  end_ms: 1029070\n- text: Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  start_ms: 1029070\n  end_ms: 1051160\n- text: Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  start_ms: 1051160\n  end_ms: 1068220\n- text: They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  start_ms: 1068220\n  end_ms: 1079410\n- text: Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  start_ms: 1079410\n  end_ms: 1088450\n- text: Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  start_ms: 1088450\n  end_ms: 1096440\n- text: Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  start_ms: 1096440\n  end_ms: 1114580\n- text: Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  start_ms: 1114580\n  end_ms: 1130750\n- text: Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1130750\n  end_ms: 1138890\n- text: Where you're madder than I am\n  start_ms: 1138890\n  end_ms: 1141720\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1141720\n  end_ms: 1142780\n- text: Where you must feel strange\n  start_ms: 1142780\n  end_ms: 1144830\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1144830\n  end_ms: 1145880\n- text: Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  start_ms: 1145880\n  end_ms: 1149850\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1149850\n  end_ms: 1150830\n- text: Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  start_ms: 1150830\n  end_ms: 1153970\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1153970\n  end_ms: 1154970\n- text: Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  start_ms: 1154970\n  end_ms: 1159050\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1159050\n  end_ms: 1161060\n- text: Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  start_ms: 1161060\n  end_ms: 1164060\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1164060\n  end_ms: 1165050\n- text: Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  start_ms: 1165050\n  end_ms: 1170160\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1170160\n  end_ms: 1171120\n- text: Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  start_ms: 1171120\n  end_ms: 1175190\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1175190\n  end_ms: 1176130\n- text: Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  start_ms: 1176130\n  end_ms: 1181150\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1181150\n  end_ms: 1182240\n- text: Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  start_ms: 1182240\n  end_ms: 1187280\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1187280\n  end_ms: 1188230\n- text: Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  start_ms: 1188230\n  end_ms: 1193120\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1193120\n  end_ms: 1195240\n- text: Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  start_ms: 1195240\n  end_ms: 1202500\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1202500\n  end_ms: 1204480\n- text: Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  start_ms: 1204480\n  end_ms: 1212570\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1212570\n  end_ms: 1213620\n- text: Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  start_ms: 1213620\n  end_ms: 1222130\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1222130\n  end_ms: 1223120\n- text: Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  start_ms: 1223120\n  end_ms: 1230210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1230210\n  end_ms: 1231290\n- text: Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  start_ms: 1231290\n  end_ms: 1238210\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1238210\n  end_ms: 1240230\n- text: Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  start_ms: 1240230\n  end_ms: 1248270\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1248270\n  end_ms: 1250250\n- text: Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  start_ms: 1250250\n  end_ms: 1273420\n- text: I'm with you in Rockland\n  start_ms: 1273420\n  end_ms: 1276420\n- text: In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n  start_ms: 1276420\n  end_ms: 1290580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 1290580\nplain: |-\n  For Carl Solomon\n  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked\n  Dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix\n  Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night\n  Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz\n  Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated\n  Who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war\n  Who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull\n  Who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall\n  Who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York\n  Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night\n  With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls\n  Incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between\n  Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind\n  Who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo\n  Who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox\n  Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge\n  A lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon\n  Yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars\n  Whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement\n  Who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall\n  Suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room\n  Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts\n  Who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night\n  Who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas\n  Who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels\n  Who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy\n  Who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain\n  Who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa\n  Who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago\n  Who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets\n  Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed\n  Who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons\n  Who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication\n  Who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts\n  Who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy\n  Who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love\n  Who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may\n  Who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword\n  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom\n  Who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness\n  Who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake\n  Who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices\n  Who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium\n  Who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion\n  Who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery\n  Who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music\n  Who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology\n  Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish\n  Who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom\n  Who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg\n  Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade\n  Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried\n  Who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality\n  Who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer\n  Who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles\n  Who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation\n  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity\n  Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes\n  Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second\n  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz\n  Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave\n  Who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury\n  Who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy\n  And who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia\n  Who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia\n  Returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East\n  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon\n  With mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—\n  Ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—\n  And who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane\n  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of\n  Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus\n  To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head\n  The madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death\n  And rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an\n  eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani\n  saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio\n  With the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years\n  What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?\n  Moloch\n  ! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!\n  Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!\n  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!\n  Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!\n  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!\n  Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!\n  Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!\n  Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!\n  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!\n  Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!\n  Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!\n  Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!\n  Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!\n  Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you're madder than I am\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you must feel strange\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you imitate the shade of my mother\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you've murdered your twelve secretaries\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you laugh at this invisible humour\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  Where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free\n  I'm with you in Rockland\n  In my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night\n"},{"id":24255195,"name":"In The Back Of The Real (Album Version) [Explicit]","trackName":"In The Back Of The Real (Album Version) [Explicit]","artistName":"Allen Ginsberg","albumName":"Howl (Remastered)","duration":48.5093888,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"In back of the reel\nRailroad yard in San Jose\nI wandered desolate in front of a tank factory\nAnd sat on a bench near the switchman shack\nA flower lay on the hay on the asphalt highway\nThe dread hayflower, I thought\nIt had a brittle black stem and coil of yellowish dirty spikes\nLike Jesus' inch-long crown\nAnd a soiled dry center cotton tuft\nLike a used shaving brush that's been\nLying under the garage for a year\nYellow yellow flower and flower of industry\nTough spiky ugly flower\nFlower nonetheless\nWith the form of the great yellow rose in your brain\nThis is the flower of the world","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: In The Back Of The Real (Album Version) [Explicit]\n  artist: Allen Ginsberg\n  album: Howl (Remastered)\n  duration_ms: 48509\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  In back of the reel\n  Railroad yard in San Jose\n  I wandered desolate in front of a tank factory\n  And sat on a bench near the switchman shack\n  A flower lay on the hay on the asphalt highway\n  The dread hayflower, I thought\n  It had a brittle black stem and coil of yellowish dirty spikes\n  Like Jesus' inch-long crown\n  And a soiled dry center cotton tuft\n  Like a used shaving brush that's been\n  Lying under the garage for a year\n  Yellow yellow flower and flower of industry\n  Tough spiky ugly flower\n  Flower nonetheless\n  With the form of the great yellow rose in your brain\n  This is the flower of the world\n"}]