it had been a wonderful evening and what i needed now to give it the perfect ending was a bit of the old ludwig van.
music starts
then, brothers, it came. o bliss, bliss and heaven, oh it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh. the trombones crunched redgold under my bed, and behind my gulliver the trumpets three-wise, silver-flamed and there by the door the timps rolling through my guts and out again, crunched like candy thunder. it was like a bird of rarest spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a space ship, gravity all nonsense now. as i slooshied, i knew such lovely pictures. there were veeks and ptitsas laying on the ground screaming for mercy and i was smecking all over my rot and grinding my boot into their tortured litsos and there were naked devotchkas ripped and creeching against walls and i plunging like a shlaga into them.
by burgess - adapted by kubrick - a clockwork orange
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