1. |
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some things are too good to be true.
some kids are just laughing at you;
the things that you do
when you try to prove
you might be cool too.
some kids are too good to be true.
so dust off your empathy kid
cos it’s all comin down.
and i’m not sure you’ll want to be found
when it’s all around—
get to higher ground,
theyve let loose the hounds.
i’m not sure you’ll want to be found.
i wont forget/i dont get what you did.
those lessons youve been getting
in just ‘keeping it hid’
from your big kid friends?
theyre not doing shit—
you know how this ends.
im not your big kid friends.
|
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2. |
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redress yourself
and dig the right corpses—
youre holding your horses
are they dead enough for you to beat
in 4/4?
or are you ‘proto-motorik’?
flexing your new lexicon.
put a better sweater on.
and in most circles
there’s nothing wrong with it—
it’s just pretty songs by pretty people
and it’s tough for me to give a shit.
have i failed hedonistic calculus?
am i heart-over-brain from cradle to grave?
what you mean to say is ‘have you no heart?’
what you mean to say is ‘we care a lot’
but you say ‘they’re great,’
and they say theyre not,
it’s so intimate and crude, you know.
how did you clone a drone?
it’s not light scattered sparks of light.
there’s a nod to the mystical
that’s like a kick in the testicle.
the same bands play the same shows every night.
and we’re taking bets on who’s
nearest the spirit.
i might need to be saved,
cos i’m a fairy.
so clap your hands (like this)
cos if you fail to believe in me,
i’ll simply cease to exist.
|
||||
3. |
||||
feelin fixed and de-clawed,
like the room is dog-eat-dog.
it’s not your fault;
i’m high as a christ.
you’ve gone to find yourself,
sleazin cross the commonwealth.
in secret, you know who you are:
you’re made of the people
you use and discard.
and we’ll always love you
but you’re making it hard to.
our destruction is mutually-assured:
i’ve waved the bloody shirt once or twice,
filthy with envy of the hollow little victories
you sell me to try and make nice.
a parasite for sore eyes when you boast of your host,
to abandon our past as ancient ruins us both.
i feel like your ghost.
|
||||
4. |
||||
say that an ‘i’ for an ‘i’ makes the whole world ‘yours’ and ‘mine’.
hey, i found that touchin so i touched it now my palms went hairy, i’m blind.
poor creature is havin a fit—ooh—one trick pony of gin and i’m used for glue,
so feed my flesh to the world and use my bones for soup.
i’m under video surveillance though i scream ‘dont shoot!’
shit-for-brains-washed-up, now im takin a hit
(for my crew).
even the rats know to jump the ship
(nothing new).
old boy, i just do what i do and i do.
and when i play what i play am i just playing the fool?
(playing the fool)
am i hungry for approval or for something to prove?
(and i do)
it aint right, i lost my appetite, too fed-up to move,
but i do.
|
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5. |
Bites+Scratches
02:28
|
|||
all bites and scratches, battened hatches.
down and out and down the spout
in a spiderland
i met a girl, to my surprise,
said i’m damaged goods, she said ‘so am i’
so i held her hand.
i’m not sure where
she found strength to care;
the things that would bleed us dry
seemed to multiply.
all bites and stings on phantom limbs
we used to hold what we used to hold,
hope we’re smarter now.
the past, you can trust, will fuck you up.
but hang onto love, it’ll be enough
to save you somehow.
if drowned, i’ll be renewed, sweet thing—
i’ll return to you again each spring.
cos death is only a fact
and that don’t mean anything.
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