[00:25.77]I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic. Brushed.[00:26.67]Canvas draped, paint peeled.[00:51.78]Gallons of something puddles and you take the pictures.[01:11.43]Hurl stones around breaths.[01:15.51]There will be shadows and holes.[01:20.37]I, the Swan am beautiful and a desist in space between being and idea.[01:43.20]I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic. Brushed.[01:44.10]Neck stiff, a stone-ed image of different male.[02:03.93]Words will work swollen kindered knees to the floor.[02:05.19]Canvas draped, paint peeled.[02:05.79]Gallons of something puddles and you take the pictures.[02:09.42]I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic.[02:10.26]Canvas draped, can I feel?[02:12.27]I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic.[03:06.90]Canvas draped, can I feel?[03:07.44]He picked up a large white vase and pitched it.[03:12.24]Sharp porcelain lined the shapless pool of liquid formed by its contents.[03:19.71]Of the man that pulled at my feathers.[03:27.60]The artist, the true manifestation of struggle.[03:30.84]The shattered porcelain greeted back with fresh wounds.[03:32.31]Memories. To be, naked.[03:35.04]I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic.[03:35.79]Canvas draped, can I feel?