Wednesday, 23 March 2016

Lyrics from the split with Grimmness

FYI, the cassettes of my split with Grimmness won't have lyrics printed in the inserts, so if you're interested in knowing what I'm singing about on my tracks, here they are:


fucking neckbeard
piece of shit.
you call yourself a superman
while you rub your shrivelled dick.

try to prove you're metal with your teenage slurs
well take a look around. no one fucking cares
claim to hate the modern world but we all fucking know
the bullshit that you preach is still the status quo
ignorant enough to think that you're the one oppressed
your dsbm tag makes me ashamed to be depressed
you think you're breaking rules with the stupid shit you say
but everyone can see you're just another m.r.a.

fuck your keyboard reich.


fall into the black behind the t.v.
touch the screen and you slip right through
a change of cast that no one else can see
understudy for the actor playing you

novel scenes with familiar themes
fall apart on this side of the screen
red raging rings of trees
burn through old memories

the streetcleaner cleans the streets
blackening the pavement between the trees
your eyes are drawn to the cold concrete
you slip back through the screen

enter the familiar t.v. self
a double perfectly cast
their date of birth withheld
a grinning doll without a past


vehicles surge like clots in lungs
converging in a vein
nothing drives dead eyes and tongues
with obscure desires ingrained
the only motion is serotonin
drifting through membranes
as focus fails to find the emotions
with which memory is stained

a bird flocks with drones.

come see puppets in the finest styles
act out your conceits
sticks and stones make for convincing bones
with wires to move their feet
but the magic here is that the puppeteer
is composed of gears and springs
pull back the curtain and all is clear:
this is a theatre of things

a bird flocks with drones.

the humming of distant machines
the fuzzing of broken screens

in the absence of intent a pattern still forms
wires attached to wings coalesce into swarms
the machines parse code arranged in unseen lines
in the absence of affection there is no other mind

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