1. |
Neon Lewis
04:52
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Heat, power, iridescent light. War and beauty dancing in the dark of night. Old, tired, please revivify. Gravity on flesh and bone, planned obsolescence. Out here in the by and by, all fear dying clinging to a falling rock. If constancy is change, it can never stay the same and I feel a sense of sad departure. Here, now, in the filtered light, kiss the green with golden tongues and lips of liquid. Cold, white, crisp and misty eyed. Still as settled sheets on autumn night. Breathe, sigh and revivify. Subtlety so overwhelming and now...if constancy is change, it can never stay the same, and I feel a sense of sad departure, like bloodletting the vein. When you’re alone, who will talk, who will listen? In the forum of one what is piquing your interest. Shift, stall, spark to reignite teeth are gnashing, quickened pulse, it’s fight or flight. Full spreint to the finish line. Hope to rest in sense yet mystified. Breathe, Sigh and revivify. Remember lessons bathed in cathode light. If constancy is change, it can never stay the same and I feel a sense of sad departure, like bloodletting the vein. Death, water into steam. Pour coloured sand in streams and you’ll do it alone, you’ll do it alone, alone…etc
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2. |
Crushed Velvet Tombs
05:06
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That shit was cold, like decompression of the cabin. I was at work when my departed came to beseech me. She said ‘all of us we were lovers in the true sense, and now I pour, pour myself into the others’. Probably drunk or stoned, just six years out of home. Courting vive and plunder, like we’ve a million years. Yesterday before the floor, before the factory. I kissed my wife kissed the grave and said “see you shortly’. All of us we stood on hilltops drenched in sorrow, just to be held by each other in the moment. The mill goes grinding on till all are dust and bone Chalk St on to Allworth, chalk one up to velvet tombs. Porcelain on leopard print was not my thing, but you dear Roslyn, emissary sent ahead in crushed velvet, can’t come home again. All who’ve ever thought of you is all that’s left, can’t come home again. Seems here can feel bitter and alone. Reach down can you grasp the solid ground? Cats eyes, reflections of the night. Gone now ‘if we’d only’ be our tome. Repeat Chorus. All we can leave is flowers, but we can never roll back the stone. We own the early hours, but we can never come stumbling home.
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3. |
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How’d the world become what it is? Mind constructing the edifice. How’d the world become what it is, can you tell me? Seeking out a light in the mist, but the predators are luminescent. Bushel full of sweet promises. Can you tell me? If you human history’s an autobiography, then everybody’s reading as victim and failing to see, that the perpetrator resides in your head and the blood of the new non-believer drips from your hands like ribbons of red. This is that that is that that is. ‘Jesus man your breath smells like death, could you pour another litre down it, is it helping?’ Distancing yourself from the split, dancing to folly like a drunk in the pit, dribbling incoherent bullshit my man can you tell me? Repeat Chorus. And really who’s to say no one’s deserving? Tree tops in deep valleys, a small disturbance, well now I know courage and cowardice. Bud when I fall it’s like a tonne of bricks. God help who’s underneath. To stem this flood could take a million lifetimes and yet still inundate.
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4. |
Anders on the Stairs
05:24
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Son, we’re going to drink from this river till it carries our bones without sound. None left to stand and deliver, gone now but a whisper over mounds. None of us are getting out alive from here. Joy, joy to be taken and given. Never, never heaven, solid ground. Will talons count as show of hands as we’ve hidden under tables. All I know is you can’t take them back once you’ve played them. Some will roll and some will hold and thieves count cards at the table. All I know, you can’t turn your back or engage them. There are terms, there are rules. We could have mastered the science, we could make symbols of sounds. We could turn into clouds. Under wattles on far too soon ground, euphoric the spectre in shroud. While we share this same space I will resonate harmonious the sound. As you radiate purpose and warmth, I recline on the lawn. When the sun is your face and it feels like you’re never going down. Grief, grief is a threshold we all cross, love is carrying the bride. The wake is your drunk uncles stammer and I the polite shallow smile. None of us are getting out alive from hear. This, a blessing and I undeserving. Shadows, shadows are nothing to fear.
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5. |
W Shit
04:20
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Home from the grey, from the shadows of machines to claim the reward of another done. Four on the floor, then we’re walking out the door. The rain like a call for another one. Wave after wave roll in like thunderous trains. Wave after wave. Crushed by the sea as smooth as an old stone, deep. There will be light come the morning. Hold tight till then to your sleep. Onerous sound breaks your slumber. Wash, rinse, soil then repeat. Repeat verse. Repeat Chorus. Wash, rinse, repeat. To the boys, to the girl, to the weeping tree.
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6. |
Head in the Band
04:47
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You’d be forgiven for succumbing to dismay, all of us have to eventually someday. I think you have the strength and the fortitude to walk through the valley and now I pray I have it to should the night take me away, night take me away. Can you know anyone, when you don’t know yourself? We’re just two kids playing house, it suddenly got heavy. Can you still come together and hold on to yourself, we’re just two kids playing house it suddenly got heavy. Long winded letters kept a copy for myself. You were out looking I was tripping somewhere else. We took some time to let the time put us back on the shelf, and now however far away it is isn’t far enough for me, far enough for me. Repeat Chorus. Out here, cool air. Anyone, anytime, anywhere. And it feels like you’re on fire, doused by heavy rains, you’ll have to be floods again. And the flames keep growing higher, banksia seed remains. Born from the floods again
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7. |
Fentanyl Phantoms
03:04
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Timid and tame to a tantrum, taken to task stricken lame. Skipping stones, rings on rivers, riding the headwinds home. Standing on sandbanks at sunrise, ribbons of pellucid moons, skipping stones, rings on rivers, tale of the hook and the worm. Digital dreams of disaster, digging in downloaded graves. Share for a prayer, fentanyl phantoms, pixels and pulpits and snakes. Hearts have grown hard to the weakness, minds consume the inane. Cold steel, blunted knife and swarf like rain. Don’t pull me under, I’m not feeling much like a martyr and I wont be cutting grass that never grows. Terminals, so divided so connected. Transmissions cutting the palisade. Ghost of the simplest premise, weathered the face in the stone. Stand here ten thousand years, acting as though you know. Casting your gaze over deserts, calling for simpler time. Wax wings, setting sons, getting there this time. Stare hard, the mirror, the glass, the sea. Reflections of things that should not be, once seen can’t be unseen
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