1. |
Captain
04:28
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Have you ever yawned at the skyline
Wishing that you could stop time?
Or surgically stopper a bottled up glance that you held at her eyes and then dropped to her hands...
Imagine you're a ship in a bottle, trying to decide
What's the Captain's storm-time motto?
Does he fantasise 'bout breaking from the jar to sail the sea?
Does he realise the crew's a ghost and so is he?
Sincerity stops you from smoking or prayer:
Your wit's in the doorway your laugh's in the stair.
Her skipping rope dancing will wind you up tight
Like a coward toy-soldier on watch in the night.
Imagine you're a ship in a bottle, trying to decide
What's the Captain's storm-time motto?
Does he fantasise 'bout breaking from the jar to sail the sea?
Does he realise the crew's a ghost and so is he?
But to move
Through her eyeline
And to catch it once upon a time
Would turn dumb the screams of heroes
And wring my heart out for a smile
Imagine you're a ship in a bottle, trying to decide
What's the Captain's storm-time motto?
Does he fantasise 'bout breaking from the jar to sail the sea?
Does he realise the crew's a ghost and so is he?
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2. |
Sleeves
04:50
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One tired back and two sore feet:
This restless traveller's got nowhere to sleep.
Hungry now and feeling the cold:
A lot to handle at seven years old.
The rain plays hide and seek
And drips down on to
Her blushing cheek.
Little girl, don't you cry:
I'll stay by your cradle all through the night.
Go to sleep, close those eyes;
I'll still be right here in this lullaby.
Ten years on and still on the streets,
The orange lamplight crawls onto her feet.
Autumn's gone and winter's cold:
Another long night at seventeen years old.
The rain plays hide and seek
And drips down on to
Her frozen cheek.
My darling, my dear, it's okay to cry:
I'll stay by your cradle all through the night...
And if you're ready to give up the fight
Lay right here, close those eyes.
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3. |
Raynaud's Hands
03:45
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Raynaud's hands send a message meant for me.
A quiet tryst begins with the union of a kiss:
"Let's steal a car and tear off through the sleet..."
And we talked about history and we decided we should both rewrite the book.
A paperback (no heavy cargo): We'll start a cult up in Chicago
And no-one else on Earth will give a fuck.
And oh!
Not everything I do must have a reason.
And oh!
Every day with you feels like treason.
We picked up a hitchhiking voodoo priest and at length, we got to talking 'bout the stars.
But the engine drowned his wisdom out, and soon he asked to be let out,
'Cause you were asking questions 'bout his scars.
And though the day ends very much the same as how it starts,
When I hold your once-cold hands to my lips again
I'd swear the heat's the sweetest function of the heart (x3).
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4. |
Winter|White|Father
05:46
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M1: "Bony"
M2: "Christ, his face is raw..."
M3: "Enough"
Narr: The thicket veins pounded in with a claw
Narr: (He felt) Holy in the guts last night.
The fall - primeval call:
Butter-yellow light capsized.
Son: You're sullied
You taste the bloodied mouth
You wring it out
Narr: Icy bright / stopping light
winter-white fire
Icy bright / stopping light
winter-white father
Son: I'm tearing up
Son: Hold me: even hold me down...
I can't stand now, father,
Adorned in heavy crown.
Father: Sow me under native ground
I have nothing else...
Stain of silent sound
Son: You bullied
You're breaking, tearing out (it's not worry now)
Narr: Icy bright / stopping light
winter-white fire
Icy bright / stopping light
winter-white father
Remaining: We could live in denial and be happy;
We could swallow the words as they rise;
We could swear that we never knew terror;
Or we could say that a terror has died.
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CROOK Berlin, Germany
the kind of music that plays after the party is over, and everyone has gone home
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