Talking About My Genitalia

by DMPH

/
1.
TALKING ’BOUT MY GENITALIA Whole world exploding at the seams But let’s all focus on what’s in my jeans Don’t wanna discuss society’s failure I’m talking about my genitalia I want everyone to be totally free To shut their traps and pay attention to me Black cab or Hitler, I won’t hail you Too busy talking ’bout my genitalia I’m an upstanding member Of a screwed society, I get in a flap or out a hole But always consensually. Traumatised is normalised Keep up with the downs; Pillowcases hide red faces Riding with the Ku Klux Klowns. All you starving, tortured refugees None of you suffer as bad as me Straight innocent jailed? I won’t bail you Cos you don’t care about my genitalia I’m an upstanding member Of a screwed society, I get in a flap or out a hole But always consensually. Traumatised is normalised Keep up with the downs; Pillowcases hide red faces Riding with the Ku Klux Klowns.
2.
FEATHERSTONEHAUGH, FEATHERSTONEHAUGH, WRIOTHESLEY They closed down the Ministry of Posterity Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley No future in it, so far as they could see Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley My move to the Office of Ambiguity Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley Was both accepted and rejected in equal degree Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley But who won’t nose upturn to a snifter? Turn a blind ear to a blazing bifta? Won’t be miffed by a mental shapeshifter? Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley We got our meathooks in your salad days Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley We coined the phrase “to coin a phrase” Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley We can make cripples crawl amok Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley Blowing our trumpet, where there’s brass there’s muck Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley Slippery shoo-ins get the boot Red, white and blue vein in my flute Paperclips keep me in suits Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley Fire a rocket to Accounts, there’s a major flap on Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley The bogs are bugged so turn the tap on Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley We’re the intel plumbers for your security leak Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley The keep-it-flush-flush boutique clique Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley We tell you what and who to believe You think you’ve got the Midas disease And money to burn in a pay freeze Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley Christmas beano, mouth oozing froth Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley Face down in the beef stroganoff Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley If the CEO sees me he’ll be waxing wrath Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley Saxon, light your farts and set the sprinklers off Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley I’m Popeyed ODing on nasal spinach Crossword puzzles, five mins, finished Light in my peepers undiminished Featherstonehaugh, Featherstonehaugh, Wriothesley
3.
RUMOURS OF PEACE The voice crackled as it said through the speaker overhead, “You’ve half an hour, no more, no less, to smoke and stretch your legs. Don’t be late ’cos I won’t wait if we’re to make our destination.” We got off. I looked back in the heavy tyre tracks: A tired bird we hit and killed has become a meal for other birds, maybe its brothers and sisters. I stroke my sores and blisters - listless, on auto-pilot, no thought. I crap and wash from a tap stuttering brown water. Brown water. Where we came from - a godmade hell; where we’re heading - who can tell? Fear is my blanket, hunger has me numb, senses dull as the chewing gum that has bored my tongue. No songs, no poetry, no paintings or photography can convey what I feel and see. Nothing means nothing to me. Being driven from our home to a scary somewhere unknown, the cracked mirror reflects puking smoke and life’s rejects. Shrinking silhouettes grieve on the pile of stones, once home, they won’t leave. The roar of the killing machines drown out rumours of peace drown out rumours of peace drown out rumours of peace drown out rumours of peace.
4.

about

VIDEO HERE --->>> youtu.be/0dbMU1fHuYI

credits

released April 1, 2020

DMPH

Talking About My Genitalia
Doug Murphy: Bass, six electric rhythm and lead guitars, keyboards.
Paul Hamilton: Handclaps, drums, vocal.
Brass arranged by Doug Murphy and played by Ben Z. Reen, Ian Hailer, Shaw “Toe” Breph and Puffy Cheeques.
Composed and produced by Hamilton and Murphy.
© Smoking Ant Records, 2020.

Featherstonehaugh Featherstonehaugh Wriothesley
Doug Murphy: Electric bass and guitars, mandolin, harp, piano.
Paul Hamilton: Drums, vocals.
Orchestration arranged by Doug Murphy and played by The Pheel Harm Maniac Orchestrain.
Composed and produced by Hamilton and Murphy.
© Smoking Ant Records, 2020.

Rumours Of Peace
Doug Murphy: Bass, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, five keyboards, backing vocals.
Paul Hamilton: Tambourine, wood blocks, snare drum, vocals.
Composed and produced by Hamilton and Murphy.
© Smoking Ant Records, 2020.

Featherstonehaugh Featherstonehaugh Wriothesley (At The Garrick)
Doug Murphy: The lot.
Paul Hamilton: Taking the air.
Composed and produced by Hamilton and Murphy.
© Smoking Ant Records, 2020.

BYTE26

license

all rights reserved

tags

smokingantrecords recommends:

If you like Talking About My Genitalia, you may also like: