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about

Clive Barker's novel Cabal (upon which the movie Nightbreed is based) tell of Midian, the hidden city where the monsters dwell. Here is a sketch of one of the characters:

Known in certain quarters as the Great Virility, Peloquin has little time for anything but adventuring and the pursuit of the female. He makes no excuses for the breadth of his taste. It is the idea of the female he claims he is obsessed with; to make too nice a distinction between species is in defiance of one of Midian's fundamental principles: that Breed can be part animal, vegetable, or mineral. If a rock is possessed of a cleft, he says, then it demands his affections. He has no children, however. The only way he can lay claim to a family is with his bite. Even though expressly forbidden by the laws of Midian, he regularly ventures into the Natural world and swells the number of his tribe, the Qualm, by passing their attributes into innocent blood. Though he should have been exiled for these transgressions years ago, he is one of Midian's most powerful creatures; a rebel whose crimes are countenanced because the spirit of the Breed burns so brightly in him.
-- Excerpted from The Nightbreed Chronicles
© Clive Barker. Reprinted without permission.

This song ("PeloQuin's Rap") relates one of that character's "nights out". It has an, ahem, intense effect on some of my female fans. (The best review I ever got: a friend of a friend, hearing PQR for the first time, whispering, "That sound you hear is my nipples ripping through my brassiere.")

lyrics

When the moon is dark and the night is deep,
The shutters rattle and the shadows creep,
The women are costly, the wine is cheap,
And you can do anything but get to sleep.

You know you're a different breed,
And the night has what you need,
Nothing else is quite as real,
But it can't be seen -- you're gonna have to feel.

You're staring at the ceiling and you're all alone,
And through the walls you can hear them groan,
And every movement and every moan
Is another reminder you're on your own.

Well, let me tell you, baby, that's a load of crap,
Look at the window, listen for the rap,
Look in my eyes, and you're in my trap --
I need a new lover and you're on tap.

Everything you know is real,
Even things you can't see or feel,
It's a night that you won't regret -- and if you're
Looking for some loving, well,
You ain't seen nothing yet.

Open up the door and let me in,
There's a lot more here than a life of sin,
The kind of a game that we both can win,
Let me hold your breath, let me taste your skin.

You don't need the bluest eyes,
I don't need to tell you lies,
I'm starving, and you're a feast,
You're more than a lover -- you're meat for the Beast.

You think you're stronger but I think not,
You can feel your defenses start to rot,
Your hands are shaking and your skin is hot,
Your body betrays you, but it's all you've got.

You want to hold back but you're over the line,
You could never get this drunk on wine,
Your eyes are hopin' for a vital sign,
Your thighs are open and your throat is mine.

There's a rush in every vein,
After pleasure, long past pain,
Solid steam and burning wet,
And if you're thinking that I'm bluffing, well,
You ain't seen nothing yet.

Don't try asking why or how,
It's too late to turn back now,
The blood is pounding to your core,
There's nothing left, but you're giving me more.

Then you open your eyes and you're still here,
With a little more wisdom, a lot less fear,
The night sounds ringin' a bit more clear,
Your nerves are alive, your skin is sheer.

Your body's cold as an icy sheet,
But deep inside there's a brand-new heat,
And every breath is dry and sweet,
No longer mortal, no longer meat.

The beat of your heart has a different tone,
You'd never believe the proof if shown,
Better say goodbye to the life you've known,
You may be lonely but you're not alone.

The world is bigger than the things you see,
And riding the edge is the place to be,
Living your life for the sensory,
Fearing nothing -- 'cept, maybe, me.

Everything you know is real,
That's the first part of the deal,
Less than partner, more than pet,
And if you think you've had some loving -- HA!
Ain't seen nothing yet.

credits

from Who Let Him In Here?, released January 20, 1991

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Tom Smith Ann Arbor

Weird Al with more books, JoCo with more jokes, Carlin with more Cthulhu. Since 1985, Tom Smith has been breaking hearts, minds, and laws of propriety and physics with his insane blend of sf/fantasy, Life With Computers, pop culture, politics, and puns. More than twenty albums later, he maintains the best is yet to come. ... more

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