Explanatory note: A 'road apple' is someone who has been bruised but still retains an inner sweetness.
lyrics
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…
credits
from W.A.S.P. IN W.E.B.,
released September 25, 2020
Written and performed by DMPH
Mixed and mastered by Si Beex
Produced by DMPH and Si Beex
This is a low-level slow-burning marvel of almost nonchalant brilliance. Often, one finds beneath all the FX and gloss there's no song at all. Aaron Freeman has an ocean of depth beneath the surface. smokingantrecords
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