1. |
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Three, I gave you the world on a plate and this is the thanks I get?
Chasing ghosts above a valley balanced on a burning rope, to teach the bairns that it’s not the light that you shine but, the path you illuminate which matters most
Don’t stay inside cowering when the sirens grow, and you’ll soon realise there’s no-one listening but, there’s no excuse to pipe-down
If the rebels are late start without them
We can show you the life of the mind tarred and feathered
Gagged and bound on the merry-go-round together
Although the coast is clear the rowers keep on rowing
Though the danger’s dead and gone the rowers keep on rowing.
Let me off
Avert this madness
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2. |
Remystery
03:19
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It’s romantic in the sense that it’s not romantic at all
There’s a carrot on a string that you can’t reach
There’s an apple in a tree that you can’t eat
and it’s been breaking my heart so I’d better start thinking about drifting
I’ve been knocking on the wrong doors
and picking at the wrong scabs
I’ve been sucking all the wrong dicks trying to keep myself afloat
Afloat
Be sure to bury me left of the middle
It’s poetic in the sense that it’s not poetic at all
There was a sin
There was a child
There was a slip
It raised a smile
There was a grip
There was a wrist
There was a song of sorts
It was remiss
Well, what do I know?
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3. |
Braindead
03:17
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You could smell that wretched stench for miles and miles and miles
Through their hair and on their breath in varied crooked smile that stench
In every crack and crevice lay that histrionic scent
Keep your fingers, thumbs and elbows off my table you loveless pig
There’s someone in your garden and they’ve come for your kids
There’s someone in your garden and they’re here for your kids
You could feel the decadence in every sight and sound
From the east they scurried west with blatant surreptitiousness
Behind their back a chalice filled with vinegar and piss
Keep your fingers, thumbs and elbows off my table you gutless pig
There’s someone in your garden and they’ve come for your kids
There’s someone in your garden and they’re here for your kids
We’ve led the pale horse to water and it’s name that sits upon her is not death, it’s name is Braindead
Here me now I tell you you’ve been dancing the flamenco to the melody of a dead but pickled myth
There’s someone in your garden and they’ve come for your kids
There’s someone in your garden and they’re here for your kids
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4. |
Carroll A.Deering
03:47
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You’d better stop the press until someone here tells me what the fuck is happening
Now that I’ve changed my tune……
Oh, sorry I digress
It was only for a sense of meaning
Lame horses
Hospitals
Arsenals and drapes
You’d better change your tune to keep the wolves at bay from the lungs of the eldest son
From the bird that catches the worm
The bird that covets the worm that buried it’s trap in the dead of the night and lays in wait for dawn to break with dynamite by her side
Lame horses
Hospitals
Arsenals and drapes
Get your lying, yellar, no-good keister off my property
Goodnight sweetheart
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5. |
Casanovacaine
02:14
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Eroding cannons aimed directly at the sun
Sat, poised and silent for their diagnostics
Grey, decommissioned and au fait with la-de-da
They say they prayed for a drought and a mind full of bullets
A voice like a fist screaming, ‘Hallelujah’
Anything could happen though you know it won’t
South of reproach I’m known as Casanovacaine
The man, the myth, the sage, the legend, the patron saint of the undeserving
A modest hand with much to be modest about
My word I’m a cyst for a heart. I’m a lung in a bucket
A thief in the night screaming, ‘Hallelujah’
Anything could happen though you know it won’t
So, down tools
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6. |
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A white whale on a background which consists only of black
and if it doesn’t suit the scenery?
Well, I’ll drink to that
Safety’s in the binary
Bêtes noires won’t feed the thick
and it turns my fucking stomach to the point of being sick
Three cheers for onanism
Let the craven lead the blind to bromidic beds and empty spectacles of cheap design
A white whale on a background which consists only of black
and if it doesn’t suit the scenery?
Well, I’ll drink to that
All they want is ‘Rock steady’
Shakespeare’s in the H20
My favourite colour’s six
Peter Pan with shit for brains still peddling a myth
A white whale on a background which consists only of black
and if it doesn’t suit the scenery?
Well, I’ll drink to that
All they want is ‘Rock steady’
I read the message between the lines
I caught the captor
I’ve seen the light
All they want is ‘Rock steady'
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7. |
Caprice Enchanté
02:33
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Last year’s last year’s still ringing though I’ve swallowed the key to the door
I love it
I hate it
I hate it
I love it
Old enough to know better
Dumb enough to despair
Caprice Enchanté
I leave myself in empty rooms for cheap cigars with new recruits
The sign ahead reads ‘Nowhere fast’
I’m sure we’re already there
Caprice Enchanté
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8. |
It Gave a Lovely Light
00:47
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There’s a light on me
and it blazes through the night
I’m a candle in the corner and I’m burnt at both ends but, it gave a lovely light
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9. |
Omens
03:50
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This is the sound of the summer
The aria on the breeze
We’re not the melody makers
We’re not the weavers of dreams
This one’s for the Earls of the discotheque
A cantata for your three left feet
You can have the floor for a minute
when I’ve conceded
Omens
Fresh meat
Old rope
Full steam
No smoke
Always a bridesmaid
Fingered in the backseat
You’ll know I’m done when I’m finished
When I’m replete
This is the sound of the summer
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10. |
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Maestro, not tonight
Starved but, I’ve had my fill of waiting for the fog to shift
Out in the stables with the show ponies
Shush
With a knowing wink from a sunken brow
Shrugs, imbibes a sigh, speaks
“How did you find me?’’
“I am the King Salao”
When the painter isn’t looking
When the feeder doesn’t eat
When the player isn’t listening
When the writer doesn’t read
Caelum
Maestro, surprise surprise
Stuffed but, my sagging skin is waiting for the snow to stick
Down in the basement where soundwaves of hope aren’t even worth the air that they displace
Show ponies
Love,
Me
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11. |
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Forlorn in the getaway stuck in the mud
In his ears are his fingers
Slaved, set sail and found nothing to love where there was nothing to share
Debris, denizens, luxury and guts
Amour sheathed in regalia
Tacit, tethered to the scow as it sunk over and over again
Euthymia - The new face of the miserable
Euthymia - The brave face of the miserable
Misborn again ingrate who’s tainted work is never done
It grazes with the beautiful in hope it becomes one
Loaded missives of roaming triffids and rescue missions of faltering fate
Things to do in Denbigh when you’re dead
So, that’s what a real man looks like
This is what a real man looks like
Things to do in Denbigh when you’re dead
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12. |
Pierre Brassau
03:25
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If a sureness carries with it a plague
and it’s urbane in it’s blandness
It leaves nothing unscathed
Zombie at the ticker tape fete
Harmless and monochromatic
Under a fading sun
Another failing engine with an end in sight
Under a fading sun
Another failing engine
When they closed in
When the massacre came
They were boring
They were bullshit
Will they paint the town grey?
Probably
Dig a pitiful grave
You’re too late
Too late
Scammed
While the critical say ‘you’re the last of a dying breed’
The river makes way for the next of a breeding death
O’ the critical say ‘you’re the last of a dying breed’
The river gives way
Quick, the bastards are coming.
Mountebanks and harlequins
A gift horse with a toothless grin.
Under a fading sun.
Another failing engine with an end in sight.
Under a fading sun.
Another failing engine.
Roll over Beethoven for average perfection
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13. |
I am The Lonely Tourist
04:00
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Safeties haven’t been enough to stop the rot
I’ve been out of my lane for longer than I want to
Placate me, you already know the afterglow is all for show
’Been out of my lane but, maybe I’ll be home soon
One last story still up my sleeve
Singing, ‘I am the Lonely tourist’
No more glory killing my sleep
Singing, ‘I am the Lonely tourist’
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THE ST PIERRE SNAKE INVASION Bristol, UK
The never ending adventures of 5 people and their music.
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