1. |
Pieta
02:52
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2. |
The Never, Never Club
05:50
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A poem for poets; you are always pricks
Burning outlets from the outset
Some would say our lives become the pantomime
Why don’t you fuck off?
Never, never floating ribs
Just some teeny fibs I did in order to avoid you
Boy, can they hold a grudge, what might not never budge
O pray please leave me be
There is no victory here
Cells in me decide to divide
Unite
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3. |
Aphonia
02:47
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I’m living a lie; I’m living a lie
& you proved it by doing nothing about it
I’m living a lie; I’m living a lie
& I’m desperate
You left it happening
Get settling
Keep me in forgetting
You talk to me then leave me in sketching
Then run away before it gets too late
I can’t do it all over again
I’m living a lie; I’m living a lie
& I’m desperate
Who’d predict you’d fall for it
I’m living a lie; I’m living a bygone lie
Nothing but a constant embarrassment
They talk to me
I’m so sorry
Nerves the manner of culpability
An inability to say what i mean
Why do you do this to yourself?
I’m living a lie; I’m living a lie
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4. |
That, their
04:18
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Vernal optimists now have to contend with this wintry visit
At a stretch, it meant what you meant to have said
If there is change don’t moan
That, their be fatally prone
They’re shit & they know they’re shit & everyone knows they’re shit so why persist?
Continue pushing to half way between half way through; you do it too
I see faces at night mama, when I’m alone
He sees misery as petulance & screams in places where he knows there’s an echo
Gawkers will grasp, grabbing at gaps while I’m still a twat
& if there be damage don’t groan
You’ll be dead soon
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5. |
Stamp Me Out
01:41
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Perhaps it means more than it should do to me
But what happens when one of us leaves?
One more night of his sort of thing 7 ill will toward a big word might just bring us back to
Why did it go wrong when it was so young?
Not like these ones with tidy bums, moper cons
They have won
Perhaps it means more than it should do to me
But what happens when one of us leaves?
Stamp me out
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6. |
Meme
04:26
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It will be heard
Perhaps even regimentally caressed
The curse, it was horrible logic
Buried in our favourite food
There was an arm I’m sure of that much
Answers from grave
Are young tourists dead?
Has it gone straight to your head?
Settling comfortably into open dirt you haven’t seen for hours
At most, there was an arm; I’m sure of that much
If I get lost & names are spoken
I’m twisting in oblivion
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7. |
Lolz
04:32
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Pay on stage
Gaze on pages
Got gays on string
Happening
Fat dancers
Period answers
Pity sells pretty pictures
It is rattling but I can’t remember anything
Shouting down every other position spat
Wet lament is drying
That might mean never trying
If only you could only see me
They’ll refuse our old news
It is rattling but I can’t remember everything
Shouting down every other position spat
Wet lament is drying
That might mean never trying
I drunk therefore I crawl
Can’t see me through a wall
If only you could only see me
I’m a towel
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8. |
Addicted to Biscuits
03:37
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It only came about relatively recently but we act like it’s been going on for centuries
You
Chimes that may poison perfect heads
Legs that shiver in incorrect beds
& once I’m passed the tableau spiel & it is real I will appeal
There’s a long dark tunnel & I’m falling down it
Crying altruistic piety past the surface
The stagnance will relinquish
The ending will diminish if we keep it
It only came about relatively recently but we act like it’s been going on for centuries
You
& once I’m passed the tableau spiel & it is real I will appeal
There’s a long dark tunnel & I’m falling down it
Crying altruistic piety past the surface
The stagnance will relinquish
The ending will diminish if we keep it
You’re not there anymore
Now we see what it was for
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9. |
Nymphomaniacs Prayer
06:47
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Only you
Wave taraa; wave taraa
Could take it this way
Wave taraa; wave taraa
Basic silence from where you are
Wave taraa; wave taraa
Domestic science
Chemistry or biology
You’re the first one
I can’t grasp the mentality; it would take too much effort
The nymphomaniac’s prayer
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10. |
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Here arrives the opportunity & not a millisecond too soon
Proceeding despite the lack of threes
It has element of truth
Tell me when to stop & I will stop
I’ll call on you the next time I need fixing
Only the first; maybe the worst
Can escape the help but never myself
In my hair
I fell for you before you fell on me
Not a millisecond too late
Our narrative through mix tape correspondence
Yours, the rapacious for change
Tell me when to stop & I will stop
I’ll call on you the next time I need fixing
Only the first; maybe the worst
Can escape the help but never myself
In my hair
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My Psychoanalyst Derby, UK
Too low brow to be high brow. Too high brow to be low brow.
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