Thanks guys, just looked up the lyrics to Surf's Up (I only really listen to Pet Sounds and SMILE these days) and can see that it's a great complement.

As you probably know, Van **** Parks wrote most of the SMiLE lyrics.
You should try setting those to some sort of music.

I may, but I've got a shite voice.

So did Bob Dylan!

That's not true. Bob's voice was personal so it wasn't ****ty. He has a personality.

I don't think it's supposed to be an insult as in the Bob is bad because he has a bad voice, just that he's not a traditionally good singer. Lots of Rock musicians don't really. Elliott Smith wasn't that great a singer, especially for some of the notes he'd try and hit, Connor Oberst is just the worst (but I can't stand his music either), and J Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. just kinda mumbles pretty, but they all have fans.

Don't get me wrong, I like Bob Dylan. Was just saying that if you have good music, your voice takes the back seat.

Shark infested water glass teetering
On the third arm of my chair.
The stained glass painting smirked and pondered the sight.
Half my skin mask
Glowing, flickering vermillion in rays of fire.
Cloth-bound bag of bones in the living room
Hourglass in the kitchen
In the murky deposit, the sand molds.

Algae flourish on the fountain of youth
Suffocated by immobility it pushes back inward.
Knotted and thick the algae forms vines
Too twisted and tangled to grow out.

Licking the glass they long for shatter
Or timber.
Feasts ceased and water does not fill the void.

A tumble, a splash a Kraken of sharks in my lap.
Licking their teeth writhing on the floor.
Biting their tongues in asphyxiation.
Whipping tails and clenching jaws
subsides

Sharkcorpse infested carpet
Below my gaze, doubling
A cloth beneath the sharks.

Shark remains infested furnace
Chimney infested smoke.

The moon leaked a golden crescent glow.
The sun blotted out against the sky
Fiery iris, blinded eye.
In the darkest place with the light seeping in..
.But withstanding the left-centred calligraphy portrait
Of saints and those within the moral realms of hollow moon winds.

Beyond the point of finding place in the daisies
Among the light of the caprices amid the solemn pharoah bodies abound.
Plight blighted candles saturate
Among those where the eccentric flick
Sticker.

Shallow flesh rot away; falling.
Often a fallacy but fate rate rises high
In times of life or death envy.

If only beyond tincture tinted feathers of the balded eagle
To only the beast who passed and pluckeed.

But to recycle styles of the repeated bile
Smile below the flaring
Of no Australia and to under the symptoms place.

If to see the fouled and crippled fowl
To decree emblematic seedlings of the mingled

Tingling in the summer waves of taller
Recreational bereave

Ready for pollockian dementia politician piece of art science of painters
Faded within the pluralist sights of landmark Marxian plateaus.

Duplicity of the mixed entry harmonite spheres
Years and derilient infested peers of the insider who once
Disappears!

Have you heard the myth of the backwards facet?
To the absorbed misanthrope
It all will push to a southern plush hammer.

Fowled in beastly manner
The dilemma of frownland proxy within a smiling manor.
Planner of disintegrant banner within the
Perplexities of banner within the
June Prism
while we suspect some
Spoonerism
Mister prune is them to limp
Spill plush whale to well.

And the beatless with their attempts at finding the
Eternal set of monstrosity.
Attempt the cast of pitch the beat asunder.

Almost in placid silence
Anticipated flocks crops released
Beached inland and the land animals
Push for out same
Knee over the polished brush and hanging for lucid dreams in eve.

Can't be from those horror shows before her of horror:
Of eclectic persuasions though the plight
Toward blended stem clams meal for the surreal appeal.

As if the insipid thoughts and insidious language
Were to enrage. Bewilder yet under an understanding outrage repulsive hallow gaze
Stared directly past gallows for days strange as if at a blaze beneath the eyes.
Anuls Odysseus of tableau
As tough deposits delay.

Olive base hollow case
Of mind and of place.

Push with the foreseen
Or forced singe.
With engine ending in twin meet.

There are places where
The night owl flies over the sign reading
YIELD

But you nonetheless run through the sign
Nobody's home in the summer
No bodies in car bodies
Travelling somewhere where
He, who swears, says, and declares that thru traffic does not stop

Planes flying through where the bridge meets the volatile nimbus.
Yet the grass leaned its darker green edges to the river.

Plush endocrine sin sifts through my spine
Gullet rescinds the vulgar pork rind.

Hissing to spill the path of despair hunger line
Clothing repair if to spare the air of great flair in there.

Ends here, sphere, sends peers
Spears reaps rapid shears.
Enter the hillbound realm of the end is near.

I opened up my typewriter (it's a travel typewriter in a case) yesterday and found this poem I wrote when I was drunk (probably, that's usually the case when I don't remember things). Here 'tis, it's punctuationless for now but I'm likely to add some in later. Or not if I use them for lyrics.