1. |
Whirlybird
02:42
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Surely it's not me who's stepped out of line,
Haven't been wrong since the end of '99;
Asked for a hand even though I could reach
No pomp, no ceremony, not even a squeaky speech.
Heart sores as a whirlybird: slow and unsteady.
Stomach drops at the apex, readily waiting to
catch the bug.
But to love, to have, and to hold, and deserve love in return (repeat heaps)
That's a source of heat, somewhere demons go to burn.
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2. |
Lumpland
02:49
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Just keep it ticking over
Until we're all engulfed by some wayward supernova.
They pricked the sun with a pin,
As all the insides leak out pretend you know what you're doing.
Let's hope the cosmos aren't receding!
Like a hairline
Or profit margins in the end-times.
“The sky's falling!” said Henny Penny.
That stupid bird forgot about gravity.
Efforts, ground into the pavement,
To placate the vacant.
It's semi-tragic,
To stare into the future
in a catatonic stupour.
Get ready to derail
with Lumpland logic.
Hello, void!
Worms for brains.
Some of Frankenstein's monsters are societal blights on the surface...
But look a little closer and see,
A solar nucleus
Oh, baby, it's bleeding!
Network with the other patients,
Trade a grubby bandage for bullion.
We mug into the future, a pageant-induced stupour,
Ready to get railed by Lumpland.
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3. |
100 Seances
03:15
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Why do they say that “silence is golden”,
Then try to communicate with the dead?
I don't see how departees are beholden
To have a stop-and-chat once laid to rest.
Even in this life
I'm a pottering poltergeist.
Now watch me miss the point with all the grace
of the Hindenberg.
You'd never meet a nicer guy
Neither dead nor alive
In a hundred seances
with as many strangers.
Unfinished business might tug on the heartstrings,
Cloud over everything,
and swallow you whole.
Clutching at Ouija boards is an acute science,
That pays lip service to letting go.
Even in this life
I'm a poltergeist.
Now watch me miss the point,
and get my noise out of joint
Over something that some might find
Solace in in the darkest times.
You'd never meet a nicer guy
Neither dead nor alive
You'd never meet a nicer guy
Neither dead nor alive
You'd never meet a nicer guy
And believe you me I've tried
In a hundred seances (repeat until the reverb catches up with you)
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4. |
Trunk
05:24
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Hunker down
Find a quiet corner in your head.
And wait it out
It might be a fleeting sense of dread.
Feign a smile,
Just another couple hours left.
These sweaty palms
They always struggle to catch my breath.
I swear the clock hasn't moved since I arrived.
My mind is racing but my thoughts are all on ice.
I swear these pockets were much deeper yesterday.
Do I swear too much?
Who are you to say.
You made it out...
So where's the glowing sense of relief?
Under the sheets
You found a castle and a keep.
The musty air
Is an elixir for the soul.
So breathe it in
With another yawn, this one twice as long.
I must be tired not been sleeping very sound.
Think I'll stay in today, the world can wait.
Pulse is climbing at the thought of the unknown.
But there it is,
Just beyond that unwashed window.
The elephant in the room has it's trunk around my neck
And I start to forget what I'm doing here.
I'm now starting to see I wear my worries on my sleeve
And I'm so scared of living in fear.
Well, I'm the fucking zookeeper, the warden, and the guard.
All the alligators bolted and the rhinos ran so far.
Yet, the elephant remains – it's planted firmly on my chest
And there it shall remain; stubborn in spit of my requests.
Come on down
It's not the price but the time that's right.
Is it worth a shot;
Can you enjoy yourself sometimes?
The city air
Feels so fresh and unfamiliar.
Now the trunk is gone
So breathe it in, it won't last forever.
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5. |
Never Better!
03:57
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Come unspun
You tried to kiss a ceiling fan.
It took the chance to grab your tongue
Lost for words.
Phone rang out
All you heard was a grumbly growl,
A menacing and guttural sound,
Then nothing at all.
Whatever came up with
This “wicked smart” blueprint
Must be rubbing their hands together.
I didn't sign up for this.
Barely keeping up appearances.
Don't look now
But everywhere's a wall of sound
And all the favourite frequencies
Aren't coming through.
Indisposed
Or a little invisible.
You're not sure that you want to be
Talking now.
Is this all a bit much?
Every soliloquy rehearsed internally
Is the sibling of something dormant.
A bit swing then a miss,
I'll probably dwell on this,
Can't help but feel like it's a given.
Keeping up appearances
Is easier once you get used to
All the solipsism around and inside of you.
Oh, it's fine – just forget about it.
I swear I'm grand, Don't worry.
Never better!
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6. |
OHKO
04:18
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There are words to which we all cling
Their meanings escape us, their graces
are well-lived-in blind fantasies.
Existing for their vague caresses.
Matted to the rafters they hang -
All heavy with memory, with mildew.
Ageing like a royal family,
Just praying to glean absolute truth.
Does this wisdom transcend both love and hate?
Are we finally through the looking glass?
Have you weighed up infinite possibilities-
All things that soon shall come to pass?
Being salient sounds quite fun -
Comprehensible and sarcastic.
Wearing some kind of social crown
Build me up,
Build me up,
Build me up,
Burn it down.
Does this wisdom transcend both love and hate?
Are we finally through the looking glass?
Is it more than I should dare to contemplate -
These things that soon shall come to pass?
Why does time sneak by at an alarming rate,
When shadows dance at half the pace?
Does the sword haunt the pen eternally,
Or can words bring post-mortal reprieve?
I'd be lying if I said I
Didn't wish that I could be more earnest.
Maybe there's some hope in that line,
And in itself it fulfils that purpose.
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7. |
(GRNSLVZ)
01:29
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*Read this in the voice of the woman from Headspace*
No lyrics here.
Just try and occupy a Henry VIII-esque frame of mind.
Exhale as far as you can
and count...
1-2-3-4-5-6.
6 wives.
All dead now.
What an arsehole Henry was.
That's a-greensleeves.
I hope you breathed in there.
I can't have another one on my conscience.
Your free trial has expired.
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8. |
Don Cornholione
03:23
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Don Cornholione,
Take my enemies for a swim.
I'll be on the ferris wheel
Wearing nothing but a massive grin.
Question my authority
And you'll answer to his fickle whims.
In a flight of fancy
He's been known to go and pull the pin.
Tell me how
You moved around from town to town.
Sober up in the dunk tank,
Stare into the mirror maze.
I'd be lying if I said
I hadn't dreamt about this day.
The perfect apprentice
Master of target games.
Holding down the whole fairground
Ready to take the blame.
Don Cornholione
Wears a monocle on his chin.
Burns all ants and shrubbery,
Sends condolences to next-of-kin.
In that fateful accident
The pesky glassy bit was his downfall.
Bring him in for questioning
Though I'll happily take the fall.
Tell me how
That big top burned down to the ground
In another town.
The evidence and ashes corroborate.
Sober up in the drunk tank,
Think about the mirror maze,
It holds a part of your reflection.
Stole a part of your reflection.
The shadow of a former kingpin
Overcome by malaise,
Sentenced to a life so strange
From the very first day.
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9. |
Geyser Dolls
04:48
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Do you all see the same thing as me?
I'm not tripping on anything,
Just blinded by the steam.
An overdue reunion,
The meeting of souls
Kept for what felt like decades -
en masse, all on hold.
Gathered 'round the body,
Feet scuffing stone,
Through the holes in old shoes
All are soaked to the bone.
It's better than nothing
By a hair, maybe less.
But miracles can happen
I even got dressed
For the big damn occasion
The only event
Since nature, with fury,
Swung at our heads.
Out in the open,
The guilty remnant
Taking a beating
From the firmament.
Has it been,
That long since we were last here?
Content with all our split sides.
Stare at reflections of
Explosions, new colours coming to life.
Dipping in and out of spite.
Could it be that the spaces between
Have moulded themselves
Into our lives, unseen?
Adventures diminish
With each passing day.
Will we slip back to silence?
Hopelessly waiting for
Big damn occasions
And fancy events.
Stripped down to basics
Just chances to vent.
A rudderless boat
on some lousy sea.
Course set for Atlantis
Won't someone please tell me
How long it's been since we were here?
Set loose on the midnight tide.
Grateful to have felt like
Little more than ripples
Living on impossible bodies of light.
Left it alone and a stillness took hold.
It was bigger than me and comprised of crushed bone.
Left it alone and an stillness took hold.
And it holds! Holds! Holds! And it holds...
And then it folds.
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10. |
Burly Words
02:01
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(In no particular order)
To love
To have
To hold
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Broad-Shouldered Baby Glasgow, UK
The sporadic solo project of Tom Fraser, aged 29, just over 6 foot tall.
Broad-Shouldered Baby recommends:
I'm in this band. So are Phil, Michael and Chris
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Phil's solo project!
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