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lyrics

Staring at no words on the screen
There are many but they can't be seen
The numbers march so inexorably
Have to snatch at them while the interest is keen
But I need a drink and here comes the cat
Regarding me now from the world on her back
Far be it from me to anthropomorphize
But do I detect a hint of contempt in her eyes?

Today I'll begin - it might even be fun
And I won't start another till I've finished this one
I'm doing it for myself and I'm keeping it real
But of course I still want it to have mass appeal
And as I fall from the fence into the abyss
I like to kid myself that something's amiss
Oh, the pain of low-key genius is such a noble thing
And the words won't come
The worst is yet to come
And the words won't come
The worst is yet to come
Banging delicate keys as if they were drums
The worst is yet to come
The worst is yet to....

It stops my heart and it sets my heart into motion
It's a curse, it's a curse, it's a terminal love

I swear there was a time when I knew how to stop
There might have even been a time of nothing at all
Logic and time were once separate things
One language for all purposes was more than enough
Oooh.... it is thirsty work
(I'm thirsty, I'm thirsty, this is thirsty work)
Oooh.... such thirsty work, baby

It stops my heart and it sets my heart into motion
It's a curse, it's a curse, it's a terminal love
It hurts my heart with essential information
It furnishes, it infects, it permits me to breathe

Cigarettes they say are for the unquiet
Perhaps I shouldn't have given up on them
Though how can I say I have nothing to do
When drowning in oceans of crayons and glue
Sometimes a kind word seems like applause for an empty stage
Another torn-out page
Trying to build a mansion on minimum wage
But when it works and it works, by god it's so sweet
Play once and repeat
The walls tower so high you could weep
Play once and repeat
Play twice and repeat
Until the next time...

It stops my heart and it sets my heart into motion
It's a filthy curse, it's my terminal love
It floods my heart with diabolical information
It furnishes, it infects, it permits me to breathe

credits

from Karakara, released August 11, 2017

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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 horrors of modern life since before Brexit. Computers, household junk and voices are their tools.

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