1. |
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Final tour of duty for our decayed body, swing it second pilgrim, sashay to shadow city. The audience has left, well I'll be damned! Play it again [REDACTED], I’ll be my own husband. No-one else will sing for me, bring your cowboys and cavalry.
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2. |
Husbandry
03:22
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The drinking stopped so did time I'm not everyone, everyone was right. Why can't you be alone tonight? Do you have to be a widower/a dutiful wife? [REDACTED] could have stapled me shut when he pulled back out, my hull is breached and my insides secreting pink champagne for a ship that's sinking. [REDACTED] could have taken me for walks so I didn't get fat. Half-senile and pregnant, I can taste the salt in everything, but tonight I discovered I'm my own evil twin. I tapped his phone, but nobody calls, no-one at all, no…
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3. |
Well Grooomed
02:10
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I’m so bored of you big strong boys.
Legs splayed wide for incoming tide cursed and charmed, spread coastlike, wet eyes dried by sunrise with a bellyful of sea. Kindness and luxury. Send xxxmas cards, [REDACTED] and dark arts, wide eyed and wowed, unsafe, unsound, braindead and proud. Aching hands and mouth dip into the hive, hearts all rot but the Queen is still alive.
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4. |
Soft Lad
02:00
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"Son did you try? You chose a sad and diseased way to die". [REDACTED] was right, my head's a burnt forest nothing gets out alive. Kept it from your eyes, lived on nerves, stomach acid and spite, tell me the first time you gave up, failures clearly outlined. (But my voice lisps high and close to God, though my belly's swole and my tooths are bucked). Adversity won't make you strong, kind or pretty, thirty years to find the body, silhouettes in shadow city.
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5. |
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Like Russian dolls you’re full of yrself, cheap shots in [REDACTED], his name’s in lights and comic sans. All guts, no glory, a failure of nerve. Betrayed, it’s all on our fucktape, replayed on CCTV. He wrote songs all about me, a dull male revenge fantasy. His life’s soundtrack is all sighs of resignation, a Greek chorus of ex-lovers yawn in his ear.
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6. |
Stained in Love Divine
02:10
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Horse hairs in my throat, fingers greased for wedding bands. Diamonds on his paws, count them as they disappear. My love takes my hand in the street, where Jesus won’t he walks with me.
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7. |
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…and [REDACTED] came with a sword, I've just got acid and a shot gun, stuck in the desert fully sunburned, with a fading sense of humour. I left the sands fully loaded, I left the desert with a passenger, I left the dunes with a suntan, head like a fully loaded rickshaw. [REDACTED] was right, there's no love in the corrupted world, there’s no love until the kingdom come. I left the sands with blistered hands.
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8. |
Millions in Prizes
03:00
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Are these diamonds that I see or glass inside my feet? Is this silver that I see or fillings from my teeth? Where I’m from the world is small and it’s pancake flat, you can't see the land when you're staring at the map. Dreams of [REDACTED] burning down and making swift escape, sing(ing) "I miss your love back when the going was good". Now the going's going's gone, where do we go next?
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9. |
Divorchestra
02:19
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Ran out of songs so I wrote a list, to keep me sane and keep me here about how your arms are like coming home to: my favourite film on loop, a deconsecrated church, returning to a ransacked house, an abandoned hospital, a burnt down tenement, a hall of mirrors and a severed head. It’s like: steering a ship towards a lighthouse burning down, the last night train to [REDACTED].
I have lost a lot of blood, but that's long since stopped being enough. It’s like coming home. It's like sleeping nearly alone. I only sleep to dream of sleep, to put a shine on the wolf's sharp teeth as it devours us from below.
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10. |
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M: I’m all smiles can’t you tell from my jaw?
A: Let’s eat trash and get hit by a car.
Both: Oh sweetheart, what hideous creatures we are!
M: Our bodies will be hubris and debris
A: A spacious carapace for a hell of a drag race.
Both: Aspartame will kill us but no quicker than the road, so let me bury myself there, tic-like in yr unwashed chest hair. Breath is fresh from the morning. Being in your arms is everything, Trash mouth!
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11. |
Grandeur
01:36
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Nowt to say but it takes you all day to say it, You’re yr mothers son (ALRIGHT!), make out but won't stay the night. Speak our language, pulled teeth and mute tongue, each ear we lick is deaf, come kiss our heads clean off. We are fixed for our close up, fit to be crowned. Oh that bloody mess we left in [REDACTED]. All the eunuchs in [REDACTED] from station to station will sing for our coronation. A string section, a brass fucking band, now hear an orchestra, not 3 cavemen, clubs in hand.
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