1. |
Let's Go To The Beach
03:36
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no shirt, no shoes, no lips, no service
no live lobster, no careful romance
no soft sibilant expressions of faithlessness
no crumbling cities or tropical mistakes
just a slow swan dive into the ocean
no appointments, no disappointments, no cradling the phone
no cars, no bars, no barmen, no Carmen
no howlings of lost sirens, no faded friends,
no promises compromised, no making amends
no broken glass, no Eurail pass, no villanelles
no New York, no Venice, no verdegre, no empty shells
no sunsets, no dooryards, no glistening perspiration
no square miles, no square feet of enclosure or expanse
just one dive into the ocean
no sharp shock, no hypnic jerk, no strychnine in the well
no semaphore, no semiotics, no gin
no long-eyed brittle silences, no daylight savings
no feelings, no failings, no unworn rings
no tears falling from the pier, leaning on rusty railings
no gazing back at memories fading to a pinkish hue like clouds of blood in the water
no flashings of tiny teeth - well, maybe just a few
just one silver swan dive into the ocean
let's go to the beach
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2. |
Black Plastic
03:02
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I shudder as I stick the spindle
Into its tiny hole
Into the very eye of culture
I resolve not to grow old
Its vibrations are so warped
Crackling with the purest sound
Black plastic - transfer the needle
From your arm to mine
Black plastic – I am refined
Black plastic – my one desire
Rotting in my parents' loft
How could they forget about it?
I sneer at silver plastic
Mirrors of incompetence
But I could stand to do some preening
Once it's time to pay the rent
Exquisitely expensive
And it takes up half my flat
And when there's no more room to move
I'll trade it all for stamps
Black plastic spins me round and round
Except for when it jumps around
My needle inches ever closer
Towards its tiny hole
And it's that tiny hole
I need to climb inside
Why would I need Casual Sex?
I'm nodding along to Jamie XX
Triple plastic - Jamie XX
Swipe my plastic, Jamie XX
Nodding off to Jamie XX
No need to panic at the disco - Jamie XX
It lashes me with purest sound
Even when it jumps around
Tame Impala and Modest Mouse
In the Vinyl Room at Soho House
Where friends and I swallow and spit
In our high class sandpit
I buy everything on Soul Jazz
I just don't have time to listen to it
Black plastic – in my bedroom
Black plastic - not in my car
Black plastic - in my parents' loft
Black plastic is my desire
I like it 'cuz the holes are small
I like it 'cuz the grooves are deep
It just has that warmth, you know?
Black plastic is so warm
Black plastic is so smooth
Black plastic and coloured plastic
Drag me deep into the groove
Drag me deep into the groove
Drag me deep into the groove
Drag me deep into the groove
Drag me deep into the groove
Drag me deep into the groove
Drag me deep into the groove
Drag me deep into the groove
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3. |
Spoils
03:43
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It’s cold in here though the heat is high
And when I suffocate I’ll turn on the fan
Too weak to crawl to the computer
I can’t quite reach the telephone
My eyes are red from staring at the window
The TV is on, but there's no one at home
My tools lie on the table
My work remains undone
The impetus was trampled
By a cavalcade of fun
A thousand libraries at my fingertips
Perhaps I ought to feed my fingers into the fan
Slip a bodkin into each eye in turn
Freedom of choice makes me a wo/man
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4. |
Grow
08:46
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Grow:
How can I wish for you to grow?
Warm inside the loving fist
The most delicate specimen
You make me forget myself
I watch you watch me from your dainty little shelf
As I demand your sympathy
The debt of love you owe to me
Admire my sweet honesty
For I remain your majesty
How can I wish for you to grow?
(you might fly away)
How could you want for anything that I cannot provide?
You know the birds do sing outside, outside
the windows of this happy home
because I put them there for you
I threatened them for you
Why should I wish for you to grow
When you might fly away?
How could I wish for you to grow?
(You might fly away)
I cannot wish for you to grow
I will not wish for you to....
What I really wanted was a child
But for now I'll settle for the aisle
And you will fill his golden little shoes with the bronze
He'll never once endure
And still you sit there, sit there, sit there
So horribly demure
How can I wish for you to grow?
(you might fly away)
How can I wish for you to grow?
(you might fly away)
I cannot wish for you to grow
You will not fly away
Only a few more years to go
Til we both fly away...
Cymothoa Exigua:
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Tiny jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty grease to loosen your tongue
I hope you’re sleeping well tonight
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Green jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty money to control your tongue
Hope it tasted good, old son
Hopes collapse like melting plastic
The ‘revolution’ remains static
Spineless little Billy Liar
Kiss kiss, bang bang
This gun’s for hire
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Tiny jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty grease to loosen your tongue
I hope you’re sleeping well tonight
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Grubby jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty money to control your tongue
You can go to hell, my son
Boys and girls
Cover your eyes and your ears
Hold out your hands and stick out your tongues
Choke it down
Words drip like melting plastic
The situation remains static
Speak up, dear little liar
Who’s really to blame when your tongue is for hire?
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Tiny jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty grease to loosen your tongue
I hope you’re sleeping well
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Grubby jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty money to control your tongue
You can go to hell, my son
Cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa
Throw your pistol away
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Tiny jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty grease to loosen your tongue
I hope you’re sleeping well
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Grubby jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty money to control your tongue
You can go to hell, my son
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The Casual Sexists Brooklyn, New York
Transatlantic couple Varrick and Ed Zed have been coaxing crooked pop songs out of disillusionment, animals and the glorious horrors of modern life since before Brexit. Drums, computers and household objects are their tools.
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