Midas' Milk from Nightmares by St. Morris Sinners

Midas was born
Into considerable wealth
Silver spoons sticking out
His crib was top-shelf

His fathers pride
And his mothers joy
Received every desire
Played everyone like a toy

But there was one thing
That he yearned for most
His mother's milk
It haunted him like a ghost

Beckoned all hours
Insomniac swept feet
Every piercing cry
To suckle on that teat

It was cute at first
his insatiable screams
But as he got older
It became a bad fever dream

His baritone cries
Caused them both to shudder
Tried to wean him off
Went as far as a cows udder

They brought in priests
To perform an exorcism
They brought in Hare Krishnas
To subdue him in sound and rhythm

They had nearly given up
Nearly lost all hope
When one day at their door appeared a man
With something tied to a rope

Standing before them
Was something they had never seen
Because tied to that rope
Was a dark-blue Oxen

It's eyes were crimson
It didn't look too old
Midas relented for a second
But saw it's udder shining gold!

Baby came a thudding
Striding clumsily and long
But when Midas suckled
He noticed something was wrong

Grafted to it's nipple
Midas was forcibly fed
A milk so rancid and sour
Poor Midas wished he was dead!

• Alternative
• alternative rock
• art rock
• artpunk
• Melbourne