Get all 39 smokingantrecords releases available on Bandcamp and save 50%.
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. |
||||
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
03:04
|
|||
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. |
Streaming and Download help
smokingantrecords recommends:
If you like Talking About My Genitalia, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp