1. |
Wheezyboy
04:37
|
|
||
|
Who borrowed you my fingers? Spit, mascara, knuckle – eye. You panda streak, I don't know what we talked about. Drop gather to cloudburst, your running pace won't help me fly, and all I'll have tomorrow is a broken mouth. Brought luck and good intentions, months curled in a sick bed; I'm sweating pure salbutamol, don't kiss my face. You want the piece I mentioned, hold my nose and cracked my head. Dig into my mouth, find chewed up love replaced.
Put it right back where you found it, put it right back where you found it, put it away.
Foxfire. This ain't no hullabullusion. High Wire; She hits the floor like original sin. Foxfire, oh lock and load, I hunt it down, before I know it I'm a P-Pariah chewing on a misfire. Just wait a, give me a, just wait a, I need a second.
It's buried in my stomach, I'll fawn and patter round your feet, but if you think I'm worth the effort then I'll run a mile. Forgot thow to be Holy, I've long forgotten how to read, missing teeth in bad dreams, I should learn to dance.
Tongue cut on my chin again, please put me in the bathtub. Feed me a banana, stop me, seeing stars.
|
||||
2. |
Direct
06:55
|
|
||
|
I wake up, on the floor, by the crystallising meat. Try to stand but I fall, thrash about, knock the pretzels over. Blue-eyed children, (ablaze like Eugenics Endemol©), beam at me from the socks, and I start to cry out - "tell me what am I looking for?" Shopping list in my hand, but the products are occult. Maybe sweat, maybe tears, makes the writing indecipherable. But I did not black out, it's just my attention span. I'm appalled, I'm in slacks and I start to cry out "tell me what am I looking for?" So they take me outside. It feels like each one of us just breaks out to break in, and we never look back again. If it takes more effort to explain than it does to say then be quiet. Who'd have thought when you climbed to the top of the mountain that you'd find a swamp. If you want to know terror, take a holiday. It's on an empty stomach. I'm not responsible. I'm not responsible. Thank god i don't have the words for this, i cant tell you what colour it is. Can't pick out its shape out in a Rorschach so pass it on pass it on pass it on. Thank god i don't have the words for this, i cant tell you what colour it is cant pick out its shape out in a Rorschach again. Today i saw a sign on the regents canal, and it said 'if you see a man without a smile give him yours'; why would I wanna do that? If you see a man without a smile then give him yours. Are you havin' a bubble? This underwritten grin is the only thing that keeps my teeth apart; stops them clamping down on your fingers. I won't tell you what colour this is, I'll erode a smile right into the bone and as long as I live I'll never learn to say anything direct at all. You'll have to prise it from my cold dead face. Cos it's mine. I worked hard. I worked hard for this. If you want to know terror, take a holiday. It's on empty stomach. I'm not responsible. I'm not responsible.
|
||||
3. |
Tzizimime
03:35
|
|
||
|
From Emmonak down to Versailles, there’s rabbit holes full up with wine. Go get yourself 400 high on the vine. All holy itch and hot belief, still growing branches for their teeth. Turn your body into a tree; say you can drink what you can draw from me. Wherever you go, still digging in your heels until you’re fed. If you’re not built for the snow, then come on back to bed. M.N.O. Drag him round from door to door, Like a pit bull with a locking jaw.
|
||||
4. |
|
|||
|
Can't stay here - too stupid to run away. Take shallow comfort in cold calling end times - so come fill my boots up. Allium cepa, I don't care, I'll give it a shot. Shake thought from the skull. This is not a fire. If you can't eat it, then it means nothing. Soon as you own it, well it gets jaded quickly. If you can't spin it, just go to sleep before it gives you ideas. Morbid effluvia. Read your bright bright miasma - it must be true.When you caps lock that at me. Infernal vaccine - I don't care, I just wanna laugh, shake thought from the skull. This is not a fire. If you can't eat it, then it means nothing. Soon as you own it, well it gets jaded quickly. If you can't spin it, you have to kill before it shows you up. It doesn't come back because it wants a scratch behind its ears. It comes back cos it's hungry. One night’s feverish dream conjures Mesopotamia. You float a thousand yards above the desert, hidden genius in your ear. Whispering, “bring your electric ships through Euphratean canals - we love you just the way you are”. COMPARE. SHARE. COMPARE. This isn't a fire, whatever they told you. I DON'T WANT TO READ IT. I’LL SPIT IT RIGHT IN YOUR FACE, IN YOUR FACE AGAIN.I’LL DO IT OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER...
|
||||
5. |
Abyssopelagic
06:37
|
|
||
|
Think you can fold him up; put the boy in your pocket. He guessed what clothes you'd wear, what furniture you'd throw across the room. Still think that you're getting buzz from Best Western Bars and Belgian Cigarettes. Long as he lets you tie one off around his throat you're making best use of his silhouette. Maybe you can turn this inside-out, only squeeze the word out so you can bite your tongue, when you demand he kneel down, cold-lashed to the radiator. If what you do behind closed doors has become sacred, why, why, does it only start to itch when the weekend sessions' done? Does he lie down when he is told like cattle underneath the umbra. What small imagination joins you will not split asunder. If you get ditzy on the line between anxiety and afterglow, best get back in the saddle 'til he's pretending he feels guilty just to get you O. He's on fire but only when he knows he can hide in the walk-in. His safety word is. His safety word is so safe he's forgotten where he put it. Turn the lights out. What you do behind closed doors is boring us to murder, now the weekend sessions' done. You take a bite you eat the whole thing. There's no half-measures at this bar today. The more he strains, the more you'll half expect him - dosed up on your doorstep like some jingle-bell on Christmas day. He looks at you like that, you can't help laughing. He looks at you like that, you can't refuse. You don't crack the can and let the worms out, unless you brought a bigger one to squeeze them into if you lose.
|
||||
6. |
419
06:31
|
|
||
|
I call you friend, on behalf of my family. I would be pleased to seek your advice as a guide. Though, I don’t know you personally, I maintain my father's Christian philosophy. Business is people and open minds profit us all. You can cut me right open and you can count my rings if you want. Our family lawyers haunt like cheap ghosts, and they sew, sew, sew the money in. Whilst they can entertain you have no idea how hard it is for me to say, "We hope that you will be able to manage and invest in good faith". It used to flow in Switzerland - froze overnight. Everyone knows your portfolio. Help us invest. They claim my Daddy siphoned off the coin from the federal government of Nigeria. I got neuro. I got complications. My German client and his family all burned up in that New-York bound Concorde. You think you’re hungry for it? You can’t read the word. This is how. You have the surname of the deceased. Inspired by divine providence.
|
||||
7. |
Garmonbozia
04:27
|
|
||
|
Garmonbozia. Hate your time and fury. Electricity from pure air. We have descended from pure air. You come in out of the dark. You come in pieces, pieces. Rising and falling forever. Rising and falling again. Rising and falling forever. Rising and falling, You come in out of the dark. You come in from outside.
|
||||
8. |
Deckchair For Your Ghost
05:41
|
|
||
|
My deckchair's in the garden for the final show. Every suicide novella, ends as spiderlegged code - A vague scribble of confused intimacy. People like me, people who they say cannot love; it's gas like that which starts me thinking I should prove them all right in the most abominable ways. Long mindless tentacles of heat stretch from the sun, germinating some nameless desire I can’t fathom, 'til I close my eyes. If you populate your identical dreams with tiny creatures. they'll keep talking, and keep talking, and keep talking, and keep talking, every voice describes an asteroid colliding with the planet, somehow if it isn't my fault, then the story doesn't make sense. Then I feel them find you miles away and dig you up, and lock you in a vault: I've never been so scared I'll never find your body. Though i'm hiding in plain sight I can't remember why i'm hiding and I struggle to remember if I'm the one who killed you. It's a relief to know they can't hold me to ransom, cause what I did or didn't do doesn't matter; I'm not suicidal I just want to sit down. I've given up pretending memories retain any real authenticity I've set a deckchair for your ghost so that we can both watch flames lick at the celestial horizon....future kin will breathe our dust, uninformed. If you populate your identical dreams with tiny creatures. they'll keep talking, and keep talking, and keep talking. They can't help me to remember why I'm hiding, and I struggle to remember, and the story doesn't make sense. Then I feel them find you miles away and rouse you into preternatural life; somewhere that I can’t hear you. They can’t help me to remember why i'm hiding cos I struggle to remember if I'm the one who killed you. I'd rather lose the marrow inside my bones than an argument that I'll never understand.
|
||||
9. |
Tempe Terra
05:19
|
|
||
|
God's mouth sealed back in 69 by synthetic magnetosphere.
Sublimate ammonia from asteroids.
We cleave from our pressurised containment.
Left the idiots on earth,
One more literate
idiot who's going to give
birth to more idiots.
Your house gets loud so fast.
Isn't this enough?
Everybody be quiet. I Chew-Z at Tempe Terra.
Imagine the sea from the melted cryosphere
lap the toes of all you noisy people.
I can imagine the last of the mirrors tumble from its geostation
Scattering mylar embers on children's rough and tumble,
footprints in the orange bedform
I can't believe we made it here, that we're still alive and making copies of us.
When we expire we remain; disordered.
Drift down, and down, and down...
Isn't this enough?
All the light that falls upon your face altered in its course.
So stop trying to fill your scrapbook; take a look at where you are.
|
||||
10. |
Blackout
05:28
|
|
||
|
Our 4.00am date, sinking polish lager. No tizer for you. They want me to think someone else bought those Gauloises for you. Of course. I doubt that, though the suggestion of illegality adds some kind of loping frisson. I DON’T CARE. Tell me what you like. I'm too limp to like on your behalf. I wish someone had bought a bag to put all yesterdays leftover fun into. You look at me i look at you again. Like i did yesterday. Our tiny date is done now, i'm feeling used, but hungry. When you walk in on yourself you can't pretend you were watching Monk, Scrubs, House, Chips...Yesterday's fun is no fun at all I know respect is not erotic. I've got to say I admire your working ethic. But when we meet I know you're somewhere else; eating Panini, claiming back the tax on, your shoes, your laundry, and your anti bacterial spray. You tell me that isn't exploitation? I truly do not know what is. I do not know what is. Keep on meeting in the dark, meeting in the dark, meeting in the dark. If the meat is cheap, well you should question your purchase before you question the butcher in his shop.
|
||||
Thumpermonkey London, UK
A person in space, walking, or adrift, but safe, exploring, freedom, discovery.
A clockwork piano
contraption, like a giant ballerina box, but turning a big totem pole, around which smart office dressed people slowly dance with dead glazed eyes as a slightly out of tune slow Satie-like Lydian melody loops round.
White men in pith helmets hunting large animals to extinction.
... more
If you like Thumpermonkey, you may also like:
supported by 24 fans who also own “A short introduction to...”
music trickling through spaces somewhere in the woods grown over the strange rusted out husks of company towns. haunting the 8-track car stereos of abandoned ufo watchers' station wagons. celestial and possessed of a sinister undertone. turns into a cryptid indeed can't pick favorites, this is a sonic web all caught up in itself. self contained as it were. and self assured of that fact in very clever bits.
go to album
supported by 23 fans who also own “A short introduction to...”
Great album.. thanks for the gong gigs Kavus... respect from Phil...You broke my fall xxxx
go to album
Every Night Something Happens
by Lost Crowns
supported by 17 fans who also own “A short introduction to...”
In 2019, I was in Salisbury and attended the Alphabet Business Convention without knowing any artist. Lost Crowns was my favourite band that played there.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Oct 27, 2023
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Oct 27, 2023
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Oct 27, 2023
go to album
supported by 15 fans who also own “A short introduction to...”
damn, I like this record.
go to album
