1. |
The Holy Day Is Over
05:28
|
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|
The glasses are all stained and slobbered on as if
they were this punter's last and only chance for a kiss
the baker had not slept for three to seven days
and the tech is cheerful with a most unsteady hand
The holy day is over here I come
One got one-punched near a club the fall that really did it
the other on his bike from a driver in a fit
good riddance to the one and a pity for the brother
840.8 Ks away from each other
I won't tell you which is which
and you won't get me lynched
I'm quite happy here tonight
and you are no snitch
The holy day is over here I come
Out of sight rings the bell all around are hushed and poised
for the ceremonial giving out of chocolate eggs to altar boys
a failure to take note of at the foot of this here mountain
of piled up cars once entrusted to the valet
The holy day is over here I come
|
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2. |
Cezve
04:55
|
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|
I am reaching
with my beak
something down there is leaching
so to speak
five folks standing
one near one far
and the rest
somewhere in between
|
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3. |
I Took My GnT and Ran
04:37
|
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4. |
Folded
07:24
|
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|
Fare thee well
oh notorious prisoner
chosen over the saviour
you showed us what to avoid and what not to avoid
what to step on and what to stop
no shortage of low hanging fruit to gorge on
it's our one birthright the right special something to meet the day
but when there is none to meet
what gets you to the end of this day comes at the cost of the next
folded at its feet
We flew to Sydney on a falcon
were blasted the entire way
sold microphones, money, jugs and time
to make a clean getaway right back to base
do you keep the conversation going?
when bad men come your way
when you find ashes in the crawlspace
do you carry on just the same?
saloons, balconies, headaches, bunks
warmer than what we been used to
pushing over chairs and tables in front of 2 sweaty punks
who crossed the city to meet our scorn
online they was fitted for porn
folded at our feet
These days I drive around
silvery tracks on asphalt and concrete
and up in the sky
while god sits back relaxed
it forgives with indifference
my friend and I consumed
she walks out from behind a bush and scatters butterflies
I panic at the sound of synthetic strings
(I scream) Ice cream cones squashed on the roof like devil horns
melting in uncertain heat
cruising down the street
|
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Kotlas Begemot Melbourne, Australia
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