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W​.​A​.​S​.​P. IN W​.​E​.​B.

by DMPH

/
1.
W.A.S.P. in W.E.B. White Anglo-Saxon Protestant In West End bar She came down on me like an ounce of bricks In transparent camouflage. Effortlessly pulling me She’s pushing an open door In the days of rock’n’Rollerball A road apple rolling ’cross the floor. She’s a star not twinkling in the firmaments of Liza and Dino Raze I.Q., raise skirt and shoe to become slum extra incognito Just another anorexic sex tourist with an inflamed libido A long-term lovesick outpatient dope hoping to overdose on your placebo Picking at the fabric Of her red wig char-rack-tah Checked in as Laura Kenyon Decked in Charlie and Max Factor. Was it in a dream I seen her Gurning at the Grammys From my sweat-soaked hospital bed In my sweet-stained ’jammies? My drip was saline Her dress was A-line And now she’s making a bee-line To me like a feline Preying on a lark. She’s mentally kicking my tyres Checking my gear and exhaust and seein’ If I cruise with the choirs. You can’t beat addiction It’s the white, the green or the brown I used to light a candle for good luck Till my house burnt down. We shared all her cigarettes, small Talk, tall tales and fables How I pledged my love to my school girlfriend Till the end of timetables. She said, “You English hide behind jokes And artists lie to their friends And confess all to total strangers” And I said, “Good to see you again!” The room was getting tighter It was hard to easy speak So we shuffled amidst the kerfuffle Dancing chic to Chic. White Anglo-Saxon protest singer Slumming unconvincingly Am-dram no-thank-you-ma’am Bumming fags mincingly. I won’t let failure go to my head I knew I was her splash and dash For her to turn it into an after-dinner joke For her to turn it into song and cash. Pale blue kitchen morning after Desire and drugs worn off Bad skin, bad breath, silence broken By a duet for smokers’ cough. Lower than an ant’s spats I made her erf scram-blade Then exit, this cheap thrillionaire Who’s been bought, owned and played…
2.
Bubbles 01:58
BUBBLES Weighed down there Unaware Of surface tension Splash and slide Ride the tide Making waves Sirens wailing Blinkless Think less Timeless Mindless Current situation All Right here Surf in the mainstream Solution’s clear No complexity Ambiguity We open our mouths and speak In bubbles In bubbles In bubbles In bubbles

about

'W.A.S.P. in W.E.B.' is a homage to Joni Mitchell. A companion piece to her 'Coyote' tale of a one-night stand, this is the story told by the object of her fleeting fancying eye.

The inspiration for "W.A.S.P. In W.E.B." stems from bending our crusty shell-likes to Dylan's "Blood On The Tracks" and wondering what Sara Dylan, Bob's wife at the time, would have thought of it, and what she would have written if she had made a right-to-reply album in response to it.

VIDEO: www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAeocc3pFm0

credits

released September 25, 2020

W.A.S.P. in W.E.B.
Composed and produced by Paul Hamilton and Doug Murphy
D.M. Bass, acoustic and electric guitars, keyboards
P.H. Drums, shakers, triangle, vocals
Brass arrangement by Doug Murphy
Triangle orchestrated by Paul Hamilton
Mixed, mastered and co-produced by SI BEEX at The Vulnavium

BUBBLES
Composed and produced by Doug Murphy and Paul Hamilton
D.M. Guitar, keyboard
P.H. Vocals

Sleeve design: Halal Mop Unit
Sleeve formulation: Dave Pope

© Smoking Ant Records, 2020
BYTE28

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