cache limit once sicked LIES

other night in dream I saw the lyrics of The Fall song "Spoilt Victorian Child" in a book as a diverging bit of prose paragraph as though sprouting from main narrative I can't recall. It looked like this:

Past trees the fairies are flying past trees with rose bushes in. Sugar and cakes appear mean sitting at the table. Tigers pop up from books. Let's take it ten years on, you're looking back from then under rough grey blankets, thread loose stained grey blanket. Musical chairs rouge cheeks he remembers through the aqueduct of five years, shall avoid reflection. Mirrors can`t hide the toxic of disfigured poxes. Past trees the fairies are flying past trees with rose bushes in the butterfly shrugs to fly in. Sugar and iced cakes appear mean. And you know that servants keep their order knowledge and as you walk in on the footsteps steed babe in the encrusted green unwild you know you are a spoilt Victorian child.