1. |
The Golden Goat
05:57
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Your sons forget your face. The only thing you leave: wreckage that will return in so many ways.
Your love gone, erased. And that is what you are. Scattered ashes.
That's the needle you swore that you'd die before you'd fuck yourself with. But there you are, defiled.
Your left arm is your landfill, your outhouse, your map of filth. Your left leg: the oil, the drill.
You're the fly that the spider has mummified, like the fields the rigs have killed.
That's the needle you feared. Now it's just gore to a tired soldier numbed to the sight of countless corpses.
Now your neck. Under your tongue. Now your face. It's wrecked anyway. Veins like bones under the sun.
You're the fly that the spider has mummified, like the poor the rich put straws in.
You are the silk wrapped casket, the feast of the widow.
And the wind will cast you from the web, bled out dry and mummified.
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2. |
Dead By 25
04:13
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In the belly of the filthiness…
The brawling children, torture brothels, poets join death squads.
Puppet in the backseat threatens with her one wooden eye.
In the middle of the road a healer all in rags that drag and soak up
all the young ghosts of women with their throats cut trying to tell their mothers goodbye.
I plan to die by twenty five beneath a weeping tree.
The sky the color of my lover's eyes.
My palms turned upward at my sides.
My face, the placid map of death.
My blood, the nursery of flies, the angels opening the eggs.
Should have been born as hatchlings
where the water and the swarming birds could divvy up the weakest.
Fortune is a card shark slicing up the chips with its teeth.
It's a pitiful sight to see the father of the child that knows not why the drunk's boot
is kicking in the brains of the one that reads to him till he sleeps.
Bones bleached white by light in this stillness.
Children hunt at night through the buildings.
Bones bleached white by light in this stillness.
Children chase the dogs through the buildings.
Love will save us all… in the quiet hours after.
Love will save us… in this stillness she will plunge her blade in.
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3. |
Underwater
04:05
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Too smart for your own good. Is it why you are never satisfied?
Waiting for a cult to catch your eye and make you believe.
When I meet a self described old soul, though my eyes may not roll,
I have made a mental note: whackjob; divines from their dreams.
Who am I to sit in judgement of this freakshow when we're all so lost?
I don't vouch for anyone, and the ones I love might be seekers of the truth
or running from the light to the edge of the earth and they jump just like I do.
When we all are underwater the world will heal.
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4. |
Yes, Mistress
05:04
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The ark of Noah is found.
The great raft run aground.
Madman turned prophet, drowned.
Split to splinters the bow of cracked timbers.
Now, bodies of beasts on the shore;
Two of each in their gore.
I only speak of decor.
The lovely view from her door… sacred whore… right there.
Here comes her gentleman friend, the only one she lets in.
Turtleneck with cardigan. He's a believer in polished procedure .
Prim, he quotes Dostoevsky again.
The harem is not for him, he is a one woman man.
And she is waiting within. She does not beckon.
Begin, he fills their glasses with gin.
He wants to worship her limbs.
He begs she open her wings.
She lets him breathe on her skin.
Pull me under… underneath your bloody tide.
I want to crawl back in.
Bring me closer… let me drink your poison wine.
Mistress, I want back in.
You have seen the collapse of the world and the birth of the final flame.
I would run to the abyss like children playing if you'd just cut me again.
If only you would feast upon my flesh while I still breathe, once I gave you a child.
Feed the child my soul, give the girl my name.
Let her murder the wolves that had thought they raised her as one of their own…
But she can never be tamed.
If the magic be real and your milk held the spell,
if my daughter could feel how it felt for the angels to fall
from the heavens and smash into hell.
Here comes her gentleman friend, the only one she lets in.
Clean shaven, manicured, thin. He's a believer in the evil nature of men.
He quotes Kierkegaard and spits on the carpet with a grin.
He is a one woman man and she is licking her lips because she knows what he is:
the lover willing to give flesh and blood and skeleton and all that may live within
for one sweet moment of bliss.
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5. |
Temple Of Mercy
06:02
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Never a golden age. Never ever...
If the only thing that ever comes of this are battle scars,
maps of fingernails across the back like trails of falling stars,
and the loudest silence just before the crunch of crashing cars,
would you take me by the hand and walk into this war of ours
knowing what was waiting for us?
I remember how you thought these books would change your life.
Strangers, dunces, buddhas, beatniks in the spider's skies.
But they didn't.
You were young then and you thought that it meant something.
Are you just like me now? Fed up and immobile.
A cynic with no gods, no answers, no questions.
Faithless. Morose… the good ol’ days a ghost.
We grew old and turned into a version of our own aversion.
Drinking, judging, doing nothing worth the effort. Thanks for coming.
Townie junkie, city flunky, alcoholic snobby yuppie, bitter or ambitious waste of space.
We grew old and turned into a version of the worst person.
You became a hipster loser, I became a useless boozer.
He followed his father's sadness, she acquired father's habits.
Doing nothing worth the effort of confronting any weather.
Making money, making children.
Spinsters, hermits barely feeling anything
that might resemble mercy, kindness, heaven's temple.
If the only thing that ever comes of this are battle scars,
would you take me by the hand and walk into this war of ours?
But you didn't. Did you know that either way it would mean nothing?
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6. |
One In The Chamber
05:24
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Our undefeated Russian roulette star only has disdain for who we are.
Loath champion of the people; how he'd love to take them all on one by one.
Lovers have no meaning once they're gone.
Conversation is no equal to the dialogue of the gun.
Cigars over whiskey on the Rhine.
Nobles, scholars, poets, every kind, they all fall in love.
His demeanor, such a presence in the room.
Only alive at the table. Five empty chambers and then one.
Loneliness when the opponent offers their life and it's taken.
Knowing he's no god, just forsaken.
Lonely as the light goes out in their eyes and he knows the answer will not come.
They scream for blood in the Colosseum.
They’re never disappointed, that's why they've come.
Under the bright lights is the great showman and he spins the gun.
One.
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7. |
We Are The Devil
04:49
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Hair combed in front of mirrors, mothers and daughters stay inside.
Men prone to drink drink many, some opt for clarity of mind.
They gather guns, get the flashlights.
Elders speak but the loudest are gonna decide.
And when the wind shatters the windows they all know,
sweet Jesus, the madness has arrived.
Come outside, our fate is waiting.
Carnage in the airport; in the market; at the concert;
at the gay bar; at the movies; kindergartens; the tabernacles.
This is the headless horseman, the devil's poet laureate.
And you will know him by his penmanship and the rhythm of the wounded and the dead.
Oh, the field of battle is wherever the demon wants.
And when I talk of demons the only ones I know of are men.
The only devil that there ever has been or will ever be is one of us.
The only devil there ever has been or will be is a mother's child.
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8. |
Northern Lights
07:18
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Lover, might I kill myself?
Standing over you, tucked in, sleeping sound.
You wake up as I'm pouring down.
My neck opens, I tumble to you and the knife hits the ground.
Heaven is the morning when we both sleep in.
We wake and form a new shape then sleep again.
The closest we can get to children's innocence:
to reach, to find, to need to feel the other there.
Tonight, we're gonna drink, we're gonna fuck, and we are gonna get God to watch.
This is a dance. This is a song; the oldest, it begat the world.
You're gonna fuck me till the God of the Old Testament looks up and leaves his wrath of blood and fire.
He's swelling up, he wants to watch.
Think tonight I wanna go out, baby. Put on your fancy shit, the shit I bought you.
You might not wanna put on makeup; you're gonna cry tonight, I promise.
I see the way my friends look at you. I used to get a kick out of it, now I want to tear their faces off.
You act different when you're in a crowd. You laugh at shit I know you don't find funny.
Over-animated silly girl, when we get home you'll go back to being your miserable and boring self.
Lover, we must find a way back to where we were that day.
Run with the knife in my teeth. Jump over bodies, dodging arrows.
Poison in my back pocket, and the crumpled photo of us.
Cheated on you with your friends. You lay with strangers in our bed.
Can't tell if the moon is full. I am hiding in the river.
I can't fuck, I only drink, and I hope God isn't watching.
This is a dance, this a song, but it goes nowhere but the grave.
Sleep well, I'm by your side, drinking in the dark.
Do you believe in other lives far away but parallel?
We gotta find, find a way to the life we don't fuck up.
Can you see the northern lights baby? They're right there! Why don't you believe me?
I'm gonna sell everything I own, honey. And if it don't fucking sell, I'll burn it all.
I'm done playing games! I'm getting naked! I'm running right for that ocean, darling.
Meet me at the bottom my love, and wear one of the dresses I bought you.
I will find you somewhere else.
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Trillionaire
Renee Fontaine, featuring current & former members of Revocation, KEN Mode, and Inter Arma
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