Pigface Unknown Title
(on Glitch, titled Image of Red Cut in Half; poem about Peter Frampton(Who:)) Peter Frampton sits alone in his shriveled black home(hole?) searching his gruesomely mutated memory for some kind of clue as to the whereabouts of his penis he sits on baby, i love your way and slowly unbuttons his (something) trousers Slowly, he pulls down his tattered flares and holds a mirror underneath what once was bounty, bitch, man (undecipherable) (??) the mirror with his heavily inverted resolution fifteen years of (penile servitude??) between the white (piper and rat heart????) and the murderer, it is possible to see (? ? ? ?) one martyr of an ancient land execute this preacher's (???) oooh baby, I Love Your Way! he touches and he touches, he has nearly won with a slightly sinking forefinger the man can't get off! and searches slowly across this train of thought in search of a better hope
