Category: Visual Arts

We’re your toast, we’re your butter; we’re the comix in the gutter. We’re your respite, when in need; want some joke, without screed. You know us, we’re your friend; your mean joy, thick and thin…Sunday Comics, man.

Oh my God you take the biscuit, treating me this way! Expecting me to treat you well no matter what you say. How can I turn the other cheek? It’s black and bruised and torn! I’ve been waiting since the day that I was born…Take the Sunday Comics and fill them up some way.

¿Qué voy a hacer? Je ne sais pas. ¿Qué voy a hacer? Je ne sais plus. ¿Qué voy a hacer? Je suis perdu. ¡Sunday Comics, mi corazón!

See, I must look and laugh; inside this no head no tale — same water. No light, still day…Shagari himself say,
“the Sunday Comics country is collapsing.”

The “Professor of Comics” Christopher Murray on the power of comics to communicate and educate.

You wore white, smiling as you took my hand. So removed, you read Sunday Comics in France. Minutes passed with shallow words, years have passed and still the hurt — I can see you now, smiling as I pulled away.

I get it how I live it, I live it how I get it; read the Sunday Comics, fidget. I pull up with a lemon, not ’cause she ain’t livin’ — it’s just your eyes get acidic.

Sunday Comics, brings the dawning. It’s just a restless feeling by my side; Early dawning, Sunday Comics…It’s just the wasted years so close behind.

Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration, but we know all Sunday Comicses are fake. Daddy only stares into the distance, there’s only so much more that he can take. (Many miles away something crawls from the slime at the bottom of a dark Scottish lake.)

Time pterodactyls over all the way I see, I notice fractals, clover, honey bee, that’s why I kinda cackle, it be funny, see, haha. I can’t imagine the hood in harmony, I mean, how can I read the Sunday Comics if he don’t read.