1. |
a nursing home
03:38
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I fell in love with a stone grey idea
That passing though one another was
a guaranteed replacement for the purity of fear
And I watched as she tried to fill the holes
Left in her soul by the disappointment of growing old
With anything that poured from the cabinet in the corner
A finger measure filling fifths and quarts of pleasure
An open house and we’re all invited if we don’t get too close.
As the standard candles blaze bright white light
Across a silvery stellar black night it goes unnoticed
To the ones who fight the bad fight.
To the ones who have tasted nectar in the gardens
Seeded with decisions struck from the record
And hidden in the shadows of their own moonless night.
Ploughing though the seasons
But the weeds are hard pressed and reasoned
A crows nest filled with cuckoo eggs we are fakers
They’re believers.
So I struck out on this river and made my way home
Sending messages by semaphore
I called out silently but all I got was a dialling tone
These gestures seem empty like bone cages
they went to dust and to ashes spiralling
in a little paper pill pot in a nursing home
We are forever they said we are forever
But I never figured out what they meant
When they said we are forever
They are believers.
As the standard candles blaze bright white light
Supernovas go unnoticed in liquid plights
She turns to the cabinet and sees salvation on ice
In wood grain and dust and tumblers rimmed with lipgloss
We are the quiet ones the ones who loved you the ones who have lost.
We are the quiet ones the ones who have loved you the ones who have lost.
As omens come home
We are the quiet ones the ones who loved you the ones who have lost.
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2. |
tearbox
04:36
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As I lie among the flowers and the feelings i have lost,
you bring me back to life with the sealing of the knot.
I try to fuel some anger,
I try to break the chain,
but all I get is masochism, a funny kind of pain.
You're pretty now i feel you,
you're pretty when it comes.
Your pretty now I feel you in the rust that’s in my lungs.
You’re pretty like the flowers,
Your pretty when I fall,
Cradled in the arms of the mother who spawned us all.
Cellophane and semaphore I tried to reach you across the distance
Of some stupid little metaphor like lives are all just instants,
Little flashes of light in a void of total darkness
And all of Beckett's children lie in wait of all the greatness.
Less than this, more than veins breathing oxygen through systems,
I feed my brain with Novocaine and lie in wait of premonitions.
Broken beggars bleeding buckshot
Too shy to see the sun.
We’re looking down the barrel of another loaded gun
Another loaded gun
Now I make puppets through your window
With shadows cast by my soul,
Its easy now you’re broken,
Its easy now you’re old.
Sold out junky-shit-for-brains lying stoned up sick and twisted
Is measuring the marks of a train track life that he has wasted.
“Can I start all of this over?
Can I take it from the top?
I know I need to take control, but don’t tell me when to stop!”
It’s a broken field of ice that’s filling up the oceans,
It’s a war torn bitter actor just going through the motions.
It’s pretty now I feel you,
It’s pretty when you come,
Its pretty now I feel you in the rust that’s in my lungs.
Rust that’s in my lungs
Got this tearbox in the ground,
Broken, cracked, carved from wood,
The guilt and blood I keep inside it would be hidden if I could peel away the layers
And reveal the greatest shame
Its fun to find the end,
Its fun to end this game.
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3. |
black hole
04:45
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you could scream
but what good wold that do you
i followed your dream
into that black hole
a man stands on a corner
feeling ten years older than he is
because he follow the advice
given him by god
by god
so take your message away
cos no one wants to hear it
take your blood away
cos no one wants to see it
and you're lonely in a crowded room
and you're broken
but you're feeling brand new
and it will pass
i promise you it will pass
someone can you hear me out there
anyone can you hear me?
my cross is tall it's hard to bare
tall enough to be seen by god
so take your message away
cos no one wants to hear it
take your blood away
cos no one wants to see it
and you're lonely in a crowded room
and you're broken
but you're feeling brand new
and it will pass
i promise you it will pass
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4. |
litefall
03:29
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is there any other way?
I've got to disappear today.
should i make the last lifetime
a short and sweet affair?
I'll move the rocks with my hands
days fall into years.
it's all too bad you know
i should have opened my eyes
seen that litefall from the sky
wrapped in hessian filled with a bitter spite.
I'm not the one you need
don't you understand?
it's not the knife that kills
it's the hand
it's not the blood that flows
it's the vein
it's nothing personal
it's just pain
and i should have done better i know
with the time I've had so far
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5. |
paint by numbers
05:03
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I'm trying to paint by numbers but I keep going over the lines
But the paint is viscous and it sticks to everything I find.
So I'm slipping and I'm failing and I'm covered in this ink
And I'm trying to keep my hands away from all of your precious things.
And so what?
I'm a carrion crow feeding off my own flesh and bones,
pulling organs from holes I was never really whole
I was never really there
I was never really breathing
I was never really giving my all to this bloated galleon of fools
And we sail on and on but no ones at the helm
And no ones on the rudder
We are clutching for the stars but we do it from the gutter.
But I'm trying to stay positive
And I'm trying to stay positive but where's the positivity,
When the flood waters rise and the bridge collapses from underneath of me?
And the galleon is disappearing over the horizon
All the laughing sunshine faces hold and kiss one another
and they look like dolls out at this distance
with the wreckage of the bridge floating around me in broken tiny little splinters.
And I'm trying to paint by numbers but it keeps washing away
and day by day the lines change rearrange to shapes and veins unfamiliar yet utterly mundane.
So here are my coordinates 45 degrees north and 10 degrees west
and arbitrary points on lines marked x y and z.
If you know where I am send a letter to my brethren
tell them I love them all and I'll see you all in heaven.
A broken galleon is washed up in wages and careers
and all the things we strive for
For years and years and years..
And the happy sunshine faces hold their lives above their heads
Cos heaven forbid should they get any of their useless shit wet.
And the ones that hold the most are the ones sinking furthest under,
their happy sunshine faces fixed in pseudonyms of wonder.
And I'm trying to paint by numbers
but the sea salt has got me blind
and the sea salt has got me choking
and the sea salt has got me bound
And the sea salt is in my ears
And the sea salt is in my throat
How can you expect me to say these words
And then expect me not to choke?
How can you expect the world to support you in your race against time
When you don’t have the courage to judge yourself?
Or put yourself on trial?
And i'm trying to paint by numbers but my palette is cracked and dry
Baked and desiccated by this unforgiving UV light.
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The Scalding House Records Birmingham, UK
The Scalding House Records is an independent record label focused on all things noise related. HN, HNW, PE, Noisecore, grindcore, filth and degradation. check out the merch for tapes, CDs and other lovely goodies.
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