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SULTAN

by DMPH

/
1.
We've come so far We've come so far We've come so far So far... So what?
2.
3.
TAKE A DEEP BREATH We’re not in that place with the name That law dictates we get wrong Getting on your nerves is me getting off my face You don’t get off on me going on and on I won’t shut up and you shut down Endlessly ridiculed When you stand up you’re cut down My condition: critical Take a deep breath 3-4-5-6 Loveless, sleepless You don’t deserve this I can’t help you I can’t help myself I’m sorry I’m not someone else Select, accept, reject Leave you high, dry, crying Why can’t I take those few baby steps Instead of hiding? Take a deep breath 7-8-9-10 Let it all out Then take it all in again
4.
The Up Set 02:53
THE UP SET If you’re feeling post-dated Ill-fated, isolated There’s a niche clique That’ll make you feel unique: The Up Set If the new makes you wary And changes strike you scary The situation’s not doomed You can find room in The Up Set The Up Set (We look after our own) The Up Set (Reject the strange and unknown) The Up Set (Think with a megaphone) The Up Set Let’s put an end to taxes The rich must be rewarded Punish the poor, let them starve If they can’t afford it. Prison terms for strikers Torpedo refugees I believe in free speech So long as they agree with me. The Up Set (We are the entitled) The Up Set (Upholding tradition is vital) The Up Set (Ban films that are subtitled) The Up Set We’re happy knowing what we know We don’t need to know what we don’t Blinkers suit us perfectly And these earphones filter out the moans
5.
SCAB! 01:44
SCAB! Who never fights for his rights but reaps all the benefits And for his fellow workers never gives two shits? Thinks the boss’ hot air will keep him warm and fine And scoffs at the strikers freezing on the picket line? Who’s got a mortgage, car, season ticket, timeshare in Corfu But can’t spare a couple of quid for his weekly union dues? Brown-nosing managers, tongue wedged up their cracks Convinced he’ll be spared from those destined to be sacked Who’s got pension, holiday/sick pay, paternity leave That was won by the union he betrays and deceives Prejudice reinforced by scum rag unfit for arse In his fitted turncoat, a traitor to his class SCAB! SCAB! SCAB! SCAB! SCAB! SCAB!
6.
DISTURBULENCE New York Tuesday morning mass disturbulence Floors below ablaze, is this war or accidents? We’re on 88, no escape, got to decide how to die Stay here and fry, or jump and swiftly learn to fly Raid the boardroom bar for bottles of bravery Step outside and find the ground shooting up at me All my tax-avoiding charity donations do not mean a thing All my friends in high places cannot save my skin The long struggle to climb the ladder to the 88th floor The short seconds to slide down the snake to the plane of the hated poor Goodbye, high flier, tailspinning vertically Don’t look down, the ground’s shooting up at me No poetry or prayers come to mind to comfort me In my job “Kill Or Be Killed” was the philosophy Is there reincarnation, a hereafter after here where we’re ghosts? Get yourself a Ouija board and I’ll be the first to let you know Is this the way death is supposed to be? The sun is shrinking, the ground is shooting up at me
7.
Pure Mayhem 01:24
8.
INVASION OF B.S. It’s just like any Saturday morning Brilliantly dull, fascinatingly boring Bells buzzed, doors knocked by the uniforms Him and him and her and her forming swarms Big trucks, tiny cars with somewhere to go Last night’s litter show the wind which way to blow No sudden revolution, no instant coup d’etat Overall mood is mellow, it’s tres petit-bourgeois From abattoirs to coffee bars, it’s flowing, running smooth Put the needle on the record, we’re all in the groove There’s a subtle difference I can’t quite put my finger on Inner voice says it’s something best not to linger on We take our usual table at the Lick-Quid barterie Greasy window, big cardiacs attacking main artery No cheese of Apollo, no pub quislings, Metro gnomes; we banter We exuberate, the ant of brilli waves the stick of Fanta Earwigging patrons sneer at us or fume or fret It fearises them to know they haven’t got us yet We’re not the only ones who know what love is We’re not the only ones who know We’re not the only ones who know what love is We’re not the only ones who know

credits

released October 8, 2023

Recorded (mostly) on Saturday 22nd October 2022 at Baker Street West Studio, Haugesund, Norway.

Written, performed & produced by Doug Murphy & Paul Hamilton.

Huge chairs to Espen Skistad.
Pepper pic: Mic.
Grats bestowed to Jorgen Hammersland, Trond Holm, Jon Terje Aksland, Dave Pope, John Hind.
Sonic scimitars: Si Beex.

© Doug Murphy/Paul Hamilton/Smoking Ant Records, 2023.
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