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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of SULTAN, WE ARE OPEN, Do It Myself, Bill's Brill Grill, Bank Of Mum And Dad, RULE OF THREE, I Can Count Up To Potato, Breakfast Of Champions, and 31 more.
1. |
Waves Of Words
05:14
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WAVES OF WORDS
Waves of words
Drowning in the dot.com ocean's roaring
Waves of words
A-B-Seagulls above swooping, soaring
A literary pool
Awash with not-my-type writers
A Fourth Estate school
Expelling spreadsheet generation detritus
Waves of words
Bursting my thinks bubbles
Waves of words
Sink down into the surfeit of troubles
Salt in the wound
Friendship sunk, I cling to an epilogue
Will I be marooned
For leaving her seabed smeared in whitewash?
Drifting like a happy-ever-rafter till I hit dry-wit land
No exclamation marks the spot where I washed up on the ampersand
Waves of words
From a trickle of Chinese whispers
Waves of words
To a tsunami of stutterers and lispers
Was I insane
To walk the plank with salty sea-dog brothers
Down the drain
Dirty bookworms revert to type under the covers
Waves of words
Lapping the shores of Hello and Goodbye
Waves of words
Can't fathom the depths, there's only white between the lines
Sent to Helvetica
For diving for pearls and making the present tense
Sub-sub-editor
Please don't put your full stop on my life sentence.
And if the inkwells run dry and the paper boats are scrapped, depleted
Will the story of our love be spiked, abandoned, uncompleted?
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2. |
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MONSTERS MUST BE DESTROYED
Working double-shift at the In and Out
Meatpackers in a line till the milking hour shout
Happiness undefined
In the daily grind
I came out here following the shadow of DeNiro
A year after losing my shirt my income's dropped a zero
I should've resigned
When I was behind
CHORUS:
I've cock-slapped the girls
Now I'm turning on the boys
Hollywood made us monsters
And monsters must be destroyed
Living on strawberries, amyl nitrate and 'zac
Staying hard ain't easy on a Teflon-coated rack
Scraping the rind
In 4/4 time
How can I tell my folks I'm respectable
When all they see is my shaven testicles?
Pick up the slack
Get humping, Jack
I've cock-slapped the girls
Now I'm turning on the boys
Hollywood made us monsters
And monsters must be destroyed
In with the kick
Out with the hat
Keep it well sick
Keep the bass fat
Banging, banging, banging to get white blood out my rocks
Then the continuity girl says I'm wearing different socks
We'll have to take it again
Don't shrink, my violet friend
At home in the evening with the missus, smoking kif
"Let's get it on so get 'em off," she says but I'm bored stiff
Ain't my head that aches
Too much porn flakes
Love all, new balls please
Score - bored - null and void
Hollywood made us monsters
And monsters must be destroyed
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3. |
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LET ME PAINT A PICTURE FOR YOU
As I tend each paintbrush bristle
I give a little whistle
With lips that long to kiss all
My memories hello.
Not even if you pay or dare me
Would I climb Blood Hill - scary
But here I am and solitary
Watch out down below!
Let me paint a picture for you
See the world from my point of view
Not an abstract or a caricature
An untainted vision, clear and pure
Care to inspect the sketches in my bureau?
Figures caught in chiaroscuro
Let me paint a picture for you
Stay here, a warm gentle breeze all
Day, no need for an easel
Lay my pad on my knees'll
Do comfortably for me.
Surrounded by my paintbox clutter
A round of tea and bread and butter
The sound of crow wings flutter
Above but he won't claw me.
Let me paint a picture of you
Every line a road or a clue
It's my personal perspective
(if you don't like it I'll correct it)
It's probably better up the other way
What are you prepared to pay
For me to paint a picture of you?
Climbing up up up
Never stop stop stop
To the top top top
Of Blood Hill
What a scene scene scene
The rolling green green green
Strong as poteen 'teen 'teen
Drawn from a still
Let me paint a picture for you
Foxy brushwork, varied in hue
I’m not immune to critics’ derision
They can get lost in my composition
Dry theorists fly when I splash wet-in-wet
Can you see what it is yet?
Let me paint a picture -
- pour a tincture -
After I paint a picture for you
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4. |
Kolibri
04:43
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KOLIBRI
The envelope was tramp tooth brown
Stabbed on its back, a blood red wax seal
Slitting the side, I removed ghost white paper
Unfolded it to reveal
The names of well-heeled debauched perverts
Plotters and traitors to the State
I reached for the death black telephone
And consigned them to their fate
I dialled the number
The receiver purred
A friendly voice said, "What's the word?"
… "Hummingbird."
I hoisted myself out of my chair
Limped across my office to the fireplace
In the mirror the glow of the flames
Dance in the bones and hollows of my face
I brushed the dandruff from my shoulders
Pick a strand of blond hair from my trousers
And I ejaculated on my father
To visions of dead men in burning houses
I dialled the number
The receiver purred
A friendly voice said, "What's the word?"
… "Hummingbird."
Eleven years on I kill myself
Cremated with cans of paraffin
But beware, you dogs, the game's not over
I am airborne and what you're breathing
I'm in the syringe of pancuronium bromide
Pentobarbital and potassium chloride
I'm the power in the chair that gets you fried
I'm the hot air that moves waves of genocide
I dialled the number
The receiver purred
A friendly voice said, "What's the word?"
… "Hummingbird."
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5. |
Wonderworld
03:45
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WONDERWORLD
The dawn is breaking
And I awaken
Rubbing the sleep from my dreamy eyes
The dewdrops glisten
And I listen
To birdsong carried on the lightening skies.
Hair is combed
Teeth are brushed
Sleepyheads are being rushed
To find their place in the crush
Of trains and cars and buses
I wonder what the fuss is
In my big warm bed so snug and tightly curled
In my wonderworld.
I hear car doors slamming
Cursing and damning
The Monday-Friday chorus chimes bang on time
Housewives complaining
It's started raining
Hurry, get the washing off the line.
Pots to wash
Plates as well
Bin the bread crust and eggshell
Fix the ornament that fell
During a game of kiss chase
I still feel the kiss on my face
Warm as the sun that glowed and swirled
Over my wonderworld.
Workers returning
Streetlights burning
Sister Luna pulls her dark duvet on the day
Fill the slippers
Grill the kippers
Let the stereotyping pool drain away
Slip off guard
Go cold stream
You're lit by a flickering screen
Drift in and out of a close-of-daydream
No care where the next hit comes from
Schoolboy blade, madman bullet, governmental bomb
Take shelter where no hate bomb can be hurled
My wonderworld.
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6. |
Fuck Cops [Album Mix]
02:53
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7. |
British Empire State
04:12
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BRITISH EMPIRE STATE
Was it the baba ghanoush
On the rare Scotch blackface
That triggered my rainbow of vomit?
I gargle mouthwash
Throw on a fresh shirt
Hit the bar for gin and catatonic.
A perspiring Frenchman
Here on business
Like the natives, asks if I'm American
I flash a row of pearlies
"Nottingham in England;
I'm the middle-born of five privileged sons."
He's in export
Gorilla hand ashtrays
Elephant foot umbrella stands
I check my gold Hunter
Make my excuses
And mingle 'neath the fly-carousel ceiling fans.
Is it the crap tobacco
Or the horse piss vino
That perfumes the air with halitosis?
I can't stand it here
And I can't stand here
This jet-lagger's got executive class of thrombosis.
One more day
Then I'm gone - manana
Bloodshot eyes glazed
From the smoke of havanas
I'm trying to remain
In a British Empire state
I have to stay and wait
For a certain date.
I see a figure rush
I feel my hand crushed
"Name's Walters, seconded from the old firm"
Finger click; a tray of gins
Fills me up and fills me in
"Keep it under your hat, not a murmur."
We leave the sex tourists
Hail and board a rickshaw
The buildings puke out pavements of workers
Proceeding at a steady jog
Walters bangs out a monologue:
"You can only trust Yorkshiremen and Gurkhas".
False passport, currency
Duplicate hotel key
"He'll be back before midnight so let's go"
Destination reached
I step out on the street
He rides off into the clouds of teargas and discos.
Midnight comes and goes
The target doesn't show
4am I'm half-asleep, leaning on the balustrade
Explosion rips my shirt and vest
Blood pumps out my chest
Walters there, with a gun and gorilla hand ashtray
One more day
Now I'm gone - adios, manana
Bloodshot eyes glazed
Bulging like an iguana's
I'm lying on the carpet
In a British Empire state
I have to stay and wait
For a certain date.
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8. |
Old Bag
02:48
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OLD BAG
'IM: "See 'er?" - 'IS MATE: "'Oo?" - 'IM: "'Er!" - 'IS MATE: "'OO?" - 'IM: "There!" - 'IS MATE: "Where?" - 'IM: "THERE!!" - 'IS MATE: "Yeah…?"
'IM: "Trudging along in dog-blanket clothes
I tell you, she used to wear better than those
But age and gravity have let her down, mate
She used to be tasty, now she's past her sell-by date.
Quick, turn away, 'cos she's watching this way
If she clocked me after all this time, what could I say?
She was my first love, so dear to me, man
Proud to hold her by my side, clutching my hand
But now she's an
OLD BAG - blowing down the street
OLD BAG - getting under your feet
OLD BAG - full of crap and wind
OLD BAG - stick it in the bin
… But give me a drink or ten
And her luck just might be in again…"
'ER: "See them?" - 'ER MATE: "'Oo?" - 'ER: "Them!" - 'ER MATE: "Men?" - 'ER: "Yeah." - 'ER MATE: "Where?" - 'ER: "THERE!" - 'ER MATE: "Yeah?"
'ER: "See the one in the turn-ups on the left?
Stick a mullet on his red slaphead
Take 12 inches off that gone-to-waist
Take a chin or three from under that face.
Looks like only Stella's touched his lips
And skips of chips have gone straight to his hips
He's the one who said, "There's no-one else"
Put me on a pedestal then left me on the shelf
I fell for his
OLD BLAG - sweeping me off my feet
OLD BLAG - sweet-talking piece of meat. Now he's an
OLD SAG - gy-faced soak with his cans in an
OLD BAG - gripped in his shaky hand
… But if he wants a sympathy shag
He can grab the love handles of this old bag…"
OLD BAG - blowing down the street
OLD BAG - getting under your feet
OLD BAG - full of crap and wind
OLD BAG - stick it in the bin
OLD BLAG - sweeping me off my feet
OLD BLAG - sweet-talking piece of meat. Now he's an
OLD SAG - gy-faced soak with his cans in an
OLD BAG - gripped in his shaky hand
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9. |
Dementia-cha-cha
03:14
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10. |
I Came Round
03:29
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I CAME ROUND
Nicotine autumn
2am
Said you bought 'em
That old lie again
Yes, I know
It's the way you tap your spoon
And change the tune
Must you fidget?
Give-away
Now you're rigid
Scared to say
Where you been
And who you been with
Hey, who gives?
I'm walking away from your lame guessing games
'Cos it's obvious
To all of us
What's up
And what's down
Aren't you glad
I came round?
Shanghai nightcap
Skin bruising
I can't tell
You been using
Ferme la bouche
You know what you got
One more shot
Denial
What you do
Defile
All I do for you
One more chance
For you to screw it up again
And then again
I'm walking away from your lame guessing games
'Cos it's obvious
To all of us
What's up
And what's down
Aren't you glad
I came round?
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