Assassina in the Refectorium

[Intro: whispered vocal, simmering percussion, dub guitar] Red water. Black iron. A little oil to let the devil slide. [Verse 1: syncopated high tenor, prowling bass] Three pale teeth in a shallow sun, Tilt the world and let them run. Chili freckles, crimson dust— Wake the iron. Feed the rust. When the little teeth turn gold, Let the scarlet river roll. Stand back, darling, mind your sleeve: The mouth beneath us starts to breathe. [Chorus: explosive high tenor, sustained vibrato] BE CAREFUL— DON’T BURN THE GARLIC! Black is a beautiful colour Till you have to eat it. BE CAREFUL— DON’T BURN THE GARLIC! I asked for a little heat— You opened a mouth beneath it! [Instrumental break: angular guitar, timbale fills, abrupt stop] [Verse 2: rapid elastic phrasing] Lay the brittle bodies flat, Unbaptized and back to back. No boiling sea, no silver bath— They take the dry and narrow path. Press them gently to the floor, Let the red retreat some more. Hear that whisper? Let it hiss. DON’T MOVE THEM YET— They’re learning what the fire is. [Pre-Chorus: tense falsetto, drums drop out] Wait for the bronze. Wait for the bite. Lift one corner— Not the afterlife. [Chorus: explosive high tenor, sustained vibrato] BE CAREFUL— DON’T BURN THE GARLIC! Black is a beautiful colour Till you have to eat it. BE CAREFUL— DON’T BURN THE GARLIC! I asked for a little heat— You opened a mouth beneath it! [Percussion break: interlocking congas and drums, hypnotic bass ostinato, double time feel] [Bridge: half-whispered, spacious dub delay] Keep a second sunset steaming: Water, red paste, salt. One small ladle for the thirsty. Let it vanish. Let it haunt. Turn the tangle. Wet the wound. Give the thirsty nothing Till they ask you with a tune. [Sudden stop] IS THE TOMATO BROTH STILL HOT? [Full-band hit, high vibrato scream] KEEP IT HOOOOOT! [Instrumental: spiraling guitar solo over hypnotic Latin groove, 6/8 feel] [Verse 3: mounting urgency] Sip by sip, the saints unwind, Soft of body, sharp of spine. Turn and scorch and feed again— Taste a strand to know the end. Tender centre, copper skin, Leave a little tooth within. Lift the pan and kill the flame— Everybody say its name. [Final Chorus: ecstatic high tenor, altered melody] ASSASSINA! DON’T BURN THE GARLIC! We gave the evening a funeral— Then ate the dearly departed. ASSASSINA! A LITTLE CHAR, NOT A CARCASS! You can summon whatever you want— BUT DON’T BURN THE GARLIC! [Outro: spoken, dry vocal, instruments cut] Beautiful. Who’s doing the pan?