1. |
Pissy Flow
02:37
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IN HANDS HELD HIGH HUNG A SWEET SILVER LOCKET,
A DISTASTEFUL DISPLAY OF A HUNGRY LUST COUNTERED,
IN HER WELT OF A MOUTH SUCKED A WEATHERED WOOD CARVING.
I'LL GIVE YOU FIVE FUCKING SECONDS,
TO STEM THAT SMOKE ON YOUR GUMS
THERE'S A BASTARD IN THE RANKS,
SUNG THE CHOIR OF THE MIND,
AS SHE NOOSED A LENGTH OF STRING FROM AN OLD BASS GUITAR.
I'LL GIVE YOU FIVE FUCKING SECONDS,
TO STEM THAT SMOKE ON YOUR TONGUE
IN HER GRASP: A CLUMP,
A CLUMP OF WET HAIR & CLAY,
TO BE STILL, WHEN IT FELL,
WHERE IT LAY AND WILL REMAIN.
I'LL GIVE YOU FIVE FUCKING SECONDS,
TO STEM PISSY FLOW WITH A STICK.
I'LL GIVE YOU FIVE FUCKING SECONDS,
TO DAMP THAT STREAM OF SHIT.
THERE'S A BASTARD IN THE RANKS,
THEY'RE MEDDLING AND HERE TO MEDDLE,
TO FEEL A TOUCH OF A GLACIER,
TO SLEEP ON THE SIDE OF FIRE,
TO GREASE THE BRAIN FROM A CAN,
IS TO DRIBBLE SHIT INTO YOUR HANDS,
AND WITNESS THE END,
IN TECHNICOLOUR WONDER,
AND TO SEE THE LAST,
IS A LIGHT WHITE IDEA.
I'LL GIVE YOU FIVE FUCKING SECONDS,
TO STEM PISSY FLOW WITH A STICK.
I'LL GIVE YOU FIVE FUCKING SECONDS,
TO DAMP THAT STREAM OF SHIT.
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2. |
Last Kind Words
02:33
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THESE ARE MY LAST KIND WORDS,
I'LL KEEP THEM MINE AND MINE,
THEY'LL TAKE MY BODY HOME,
WHILE IVES MARCHES OUT OF TIME.
THESE ARE THE GENERATIONS,
THESE LITTLE PUFFS OF SMOKE,
THESE SKETCHES OF DETACHED LIMBS,
OF BRAINS WITH NO SKULLS.
I EXTEND MY MIDDLE FINGER AT THE SHADOWS ON THE SHELF,
WHILE WE ALL WITHDRAW DEEPER WITHIN OURSELVES.
AND HE PLAYS A STEEL GUITAR,
STAINED WITH PARCHMAN BLOOD,
KEPT HER HANGING FROM THE GATE POST,
IT'S ALL SHELLAC IN A CARDBOARD VAULT.
AND THERE GOES THE MASKED MARVEL,
AND HE'S DYING OF TB,
KEPT A LIST ON HIS PERSON,
OF ALL THAT YOU COULD NOT BELIEVE.
ALL OUR IDOLS ARE REALLY JUST LOST WITHOUT PLACE,
OUR LAST KIND WORDS ARE REALLY THERE IS NO ESCAPE.
SEE THIS PISSED FILLED RIVER,
IT'S REAL DEEP AND WIDE,
I CAN STAND RIGHT HERE,
AND SEE NOTHING FROM THE OTHER SIDE,
SEE NOTHING FROM THE OTHER SIDE,
SEE FUCK ALL FROM THE OTHER SIDE,
SEE NOTHING FROM THE OTHER SIDE.
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3. |
Mon Coeur Fait Mal
03:01
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UNDISCIPLINED,
A CURSE OF RANDOM ENERGY,
ET JE PLEURE,
MON COEUR FAIT MAL.
A LAVENDER MIST,
AN AUTUMN IN RHYTHM,
ET JE PLEURE,
MON COEUR FAIT MAL.
THIS BURST AND BLOOM,
IS A FOG IN FULL VIEW,
ET JE PLEURE,
MON COEUR FAIT MAL.
IT'S SOME VEILED MISERY,
THAT DRIPS INTO THE SEA,
ET JE PLEURE,
MON COEUR FAIT MAL.
“DO WE HAVE ANYTHING THAT
WIPES EVERYTHING OUT?
AND DO WE HAVE ANYTHING THAT
CLEANS EVERYTHING AWAY?”
ET JE PLEURE,
MON COEUR FAIT MAL.
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4. |
Memory's Cenotaph
02:43
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I'M DONE, WE'RE DOOMED TO REPEAT,
THIS ETERNAL RETURN, THIS DESIRE TO SLEEP,
OUROBOROS EATING ITS OWN TAIL,
THERE'S NO BALM IN GILEAD,
THERE'S NO WIND IN THESE SAILS.
THESE SMALL WINDOWS OF STABILITY,
OPEN AND SHUT, CLIPPED THE WINGS OF THIS DOVE,
WEAVING DISORDER THROUGH THIS BAMBOO BOOM,
WHY NOT INHALE THE RED DUST,
LINE OUR LUNGS WITH TARRED LOSS.
AND REMOVE ALL OUR TONGUES,
MAKE US MUTE WITH NO SONG.
IS THIS GAP INSURMOUNTABLE?
THEY'RE BUILDING STATUES IN THE SAND,
THERE'S A WHISPERING IN OUR HEARTS,
“THE STRUGGLE OF MEMORY AGAINST FORGETTING”
THAT THERE ARE SECRETS IN THIS LAND,
DID YOU KNOW THERE ARE PLACES HERE,
WHERE NOTHING GROWS BACK?
TURN THE HOURGLASS OVER,
RUN THE FLESH THROUGH OUR HANDS,
HERE IN THIS EARTH LIES A WOMAN,
LIES A MAN.
FAR AWAY FROM THE GIRL,
WITH THE BLACK VELVET BAND.
FAR AWAY FROM THOSE,
WHO BUILD MEMORY'S CENOTAPH.
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5. |
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I DON'T FEEL AT HOME IN THIS WORLD ANYMORE,
I WANT TO DISEMBARK THIS VESSEL,
THE ONE I CALL MY OWN.
LET ME WADE ROUND IN CIRCLES,
LET THE OCEAN REST MY BONES,
I DON'T FEEL AT HOME IN THIS WORLD ANYMORE.
OH THE GOOD LORD WILL PROVIDE ME,
ANSWERS FROM THE GILDED TOME,
AND THOSE WHO DO NOT STUDY,
LEAVE ME BREATHLESS AND ALONE,
IS THERE A DIFFERENT WAY TO WIRE?
IS THERE JUST ONE LIGHT TO LEAD OUR WAY?
FOR MOST THIS IS A LONG STRAIGHT ROAD,
WITH NO STOPS OR RESTING PLACE.
AND ISN'T THAT HOW THE OLD SONG GOES?
I DON'T FEEL AT HOME IN THIS WORLD ANYMORE.
THE STENCH OF BULLSHIT REARS ITS UGLY HEAD,
IT REEKS OUT OF EVERY WORD THEY'VE SAID,
BECAUSE THEY SPEAK OF A UTOPIA,
WHERE THERE'S NO SPACE LEFT.
THEY SAY “FUCK THEM, KICK THEM OUT ON THEIR ARSE!
DEMOCRACY DOES NOT GIVE THEM A WELFARE PASS,
MAKE 'EM ORPHANS OF THE STATE,
OH THAT'LL MAKE 'EM REARRANGE THEIR HATE!”
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN UNSURE OF YOUR OWN BODY?
HAVE YOU EVER NOT KNOWN YOUR PLAIN?
TO NOT KNOW WHERE ALL YOUR SEEDS WILL LAY,
AND WHICH ONES WILL FALL SLAIN.
WE MUST LEARN NOT TO TOLERATE,
TO EXCUSE OR TO SEGREGATE,
BUT LET THOSE LOST MOOR TO A PLACE,
AND LET THOSE LOST PICK THIS LOCKED GATE.
AND ISN'T THAT HOW THE OLD SONG GOES?
I DON'T FEEL AT HOME IN THIS WORLD ANYMORE
THEY SING “WILL YOU MISS ME WHEN I'M GONE?”
WILL WE WAKE WITH THE WIND START TO SOAR?
I DON'T FEEL AT HOME IN THIS WORLD ANY MORE.
AND ISN'T THAT HOW THE OLD SONG GOES?
I DON'T FEEL AT HOME IN THIS WORLD ANYMORE.
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6. |
Solitude /
04:03
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WE WERE BORN ATOP A RUBBISH DUMP,
OUR HOUSE WAS BUILT AMONG FORGOTTEN SLUMS,
WHAT IS THE NAME OF THIS SACRED GROUND?
WE CAN WATCH IT SNAKE, SPRAWL FURTHER DOWN.
THESE SALMON GUMS HOLD A PLACE FOR ME,
AND IT IS OPEN, ALL ARE WELCOME AND FREE,
BUT THEY WILL SPARK A RIOT IN MY SOUL,
WHEN THEY COME AND WANT TO RECLAIM IT AS THEIR OWN
IT'S A FEAST OF RANCID MEAT,
WHEN THEY GOOSESTEP THROUGH THESE BACK STREETS
COAL COURSES THROUGH THEM, THIS COUNTRY IS BLEEDING.
IF OUR HEAD OF STATE WANTS TO DECIDE,
THE MANNER IN WHICH ALL COME TO RESIDE,
WE DON'T HAVE TO STAND HERE AND ABIDE,
WE CAN FIGHT THE RISING, RACIST TIDE.
LET'S NOT EXTEND OUR HAND, JUST TO RETRACT,
OUR PAST HAS SHOWN NO GOOD COMES OF THAT,
DO ALL TRAVEL FAR TO BE ALONE?
DON'T YOU THINK WE ALL CAN FEEL WE'VE FOUND HOME?
IT'S A FEAST OF RANCID MEAT,
WHEN THEY GOOSESTEP THROUGH THESE CITY STREETS
COAL COURSES THROUGH THEM, THIS COUNTRY IS BLEEDING.
WHEREOF ONE CANNOT SPEAK,
ONE HAS TO BE SILENT IT SEEMS.
WHEREOF ONE CANNOT SPEAK,
ONE HAS TO BE SILENT IT SEEMS.
OUR SHARED NIGHTMARE, WILL BE HISTORY,
LIKE A HANDFUL OF ASH, LIKE A PORCELAIN DREAM,
LET'S STEM THIS FLOWING WOUND,
LET'S NOT HERMIT IN SOLITUDE,
IN THIS LUCKY COUNTRY,
A GREAT STORM BREWS.
IN THIS LUCKY COUNTRY,
A GREAT STORM BREWS.
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7. |
Tall Ships
01:24
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I’VE FELT THE COLD GLARE,
FROM THOSE WITH NO CARE,
FOR THE FORM,
MY LOVE TAKES.
WE LAY UNDER THE SHEOAK TREE,
LOCK AS ONE WITH THE GROWTH UNDERNEATH,
SUPPOSED THIS TREE FRUITS,
WILL IT BE PICKED BARE OR,
LEFT AS WINDING ROOTS?
THIS IS THE DAY THE TALL SHIPS CAME,
AND I WEEP MY HEART ACHES,
FOR THOSE BEFORE ME LAID TO WASTE,
HISTORY IS A NIGHTMARE FROM WHICH,
I TRY TO AWAKE.
FOR THE FORM MY LOVE TAKES.
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8. |
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IS THIS FENCE TO KEEP OUT OR TO LET IN?
BEST TO STAY MUTE TO THE DEAFENING DIN,
THAT'S THE PARTY LINE WE ALL HAVE TO TOW,
BUT DO WE ALL HAVE TO,
SHOULDER THIS HEAVY LOAD?
THERE'S STREAMS OF DISEASES, STILLBORNS AND MURDERS,
THERE ARE NO DREAMS JUST SLEEP WITH NO MURMUR,
THERE'S A LULLABY SUNG BY STATIC NOISE SIRENS,
AND POEMS AND SLOGANS COMPOSED BY A SLAGHEAP,
LORDING ITS KEEP.
WE'RE ALL NOISELESS THUNDER,
ALL THIS WILL PULL US UNDER.
THE WAVES BREAK DOWN ON THIS FATAL SHORE,
BECAUSE THERE IS NO LOVE IN LORE,
AND THE PAINT SPLATTERS OVER THE DUSTY WHITE CANVAS,
REVEALS THE FORM OF A BRICK-SHIT IRON BAR CENTRE.
TO BLACKBAR, TO SILENCE, TO BE SEEN INSINCERE,
LIKE A FUNERAL DIRGE USED TO CULTIVATE FEAR,
TO BE WEIGHTLESS, TO BE LIGHT, TO BE LIFTED UP,
I AM BUT ONE BUT MANY COULD SHARE THEIR CUP.
WE'RE ALL NOISELESS THUNDER,
ALL THIS WILL PULL US UNDER.
AND THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER,
BUT I'D RATHER RUN WITH ANOTHER.
THERE'S A CLAWING AT THE BACK OF MY HEAD,
A CLATTERING ROUND MY SKULL,
MY SOUL SEEKS THE LAY OF THE LAND,
MY BODY IS A BATTERING RAM,
I BELIEVE THESE CUNTS WILL SINK,
THAT THERE IS POWER THAT LIVES IN INK,
THAT TO CRANE STIFF TIGHT AT THE FALL OF THE SWORD,
IS THE PATH NOT TO TAKE ANY MORE
WE'RE ALL NOISELESS THUNDER,
ALL THIS WILL PULL US UNDER.
AND THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER,
BUT I'D RATHER RUN WITH ANOTHER.
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9. |
Paul
06:14
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A GOLDEN DAWN I'VE SEEN,
WE SIT AND AWAIT ITS RELEASE,
LIKE A SECOND COMING,
WILL BRING OVERWHELMING PEACE.
ALL OUR TRIUMPHS AND MISTAKES,
HAVE SLIPPED FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE,
I YIELD TO ITS GRIM SHAKE,
A FLOOD OVERTAKES.
WHO NOW OWNS ALL THESE THINGS,
DISPLACED WITH NO USE OR MEANS?
WILL THEY BECOME MEMORY,
OR SOME SORT OF MEME TO READ?
EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING,
ALL AT ONCE IT’S DISGUSTING,
AFTER ALL OUR MISGIVINGS,
ISN'T LIFE JUST DISAPPOINTING?
I SHOULD HAVE LET THE LIGHT FALL IN,
WHEN THE MEAT FELL FROM THE ARM OF KIN,
WHEN OVERWHELMED BY THIS SICK AND SIN,
I SHOULD HAVE LET THE LIGHT FALL IN.
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