1. |
The Best Worst Times
04:35
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Beat downs on the records playing to the happy sack of sepia living.
Vinyl, skippy eyesight playing
Out onto the street Van Gogh has gotta swim through all the pavement laid down.
Dizzy life on psylocibin.
I want to be Christoper Robin - wanna run through forests blue like winter, gold like autumn, green like summer.
Maybe? Maybe baby we half the time of space and sit forever, sound waves sitting vacant with us.
Amputee of present lives, and the HD living we see on the flat screen
Rain is getting common here pinch the sun out like a candle and pray dear
Floods are getting common here punch the sun out for a candle and pray dear
I want 60, 70 and maybe 80 decades blown through me; back when fights were cold and and freezing.
Memos gone. The oily sea is never ever gonna tell me to calm down and breathe. The sweet and the supple fruits of anxiety.
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2. |
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And it looks like footprints, pawprints, falling, melting
Good god find me some shelter
Soon I’m just another pelt and...
And I just felt the…
Slip slide with a fall to the side
Ride down feel the tug of the fur on the hide, ow!
Eyes still half closed, not used to the light
With the toes half froze, not used to the white
I tippity toe the snow below don't know so much but I'm here
Take a breath in of the wind and then spin in the minute I'm free of the fear
I'm menacing, magazine,
cover fodder magesty
Standing on some brittle ice
A slip away from tragedy
‘Magine being clueless to the problems that are mattering
Not clued into how bad it be, while your own world’s shattering
Maddening steps made with inherited care
With the claws out stretched test the weight it can beat
and the barely bare bear tracks make the faintest of bare marks
There’s a splintering crack
...and the world goes dark
Dry jacket green thatched unique kind of outfit
A certain kinda scene wouldn't be the same without it
Maybe seen me in a painting hanging above a couch
Maybe thought about me but then again I doubt it
But It's toastier now, there's mishaping in the tera
I never used to worry being south of the Sahara
Back in the day we had a regular way the breeze, teased us trees
It was a friendlier era
Before the world slowed down I used to get more visits
More furry whirry creepy crawly types of little fidgets
It's easy to reminisce, remember and wish it
No use at the point of no return though, is it?
The last wind sighs through branches with a rattle,
The plain sinks down, dead cowboy in the saddle,
My thoughts with the fighters, the perfect kind of tattle,
Every fiber of my being hopes you know, that you, mattered.
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3. |
Office and Squalor
04:48
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You’re thrown awake at twilight, traffic scrubs the morn'.
Sandy shores have lined your eyelids. Melatonin seeping office clothes.
No other reel, around.
Cue marks abundant for us.
Cash for change, your own reservation.
Better learn the ropes.
Pulling up to your prison. Pulling up your face.
This your new game of hunting; fingers fast and strong.
Legs caked in rubber and lust.
Square fractional tundra to run.
Cash for change, your own reservation.
Better learn the ropes.
Well we're locked in a chain, a silence of ways.
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4. |
Sheep and Cows
05:02
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Locked in a chain, an agony chase
Never found never found, never found
Stolen young smuggled out to at pace.
Sunken shoulders and boney frame.
Sheet of paper’s your only space.
Mulch in the air, barely suffocate.
Broken down, broken down, broken down
Tip the ocean like a bucket frame.
Muscle-molasses that lubricate.
Land is endless, and green in taste.
Methane licking all the window panes.
Fill the house, fill the house, fill the house...
Sow a sorrow hectares wide.
Use Europa to feed the grain.
Land is endless and green in taste.
Methane licking all the window panes.
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5. |
Sing! Sing! Sing!
02:55
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Tiny blue ocean's unrest, outlined with polymer crest.
Neighbourhood watch are all drunken and lost, breaking their bottles with heat.
A needle to puncture the haze, absurdly austerely wait.
Money to mop up the stain, as currents blaze we hesitate.
For village for, city whatever. For nations for countries who cares!
The people within them no matter.
And everyone else living here, come on:
Sing, sing, sing!
Shrink wrap a marble and roll; unraveling all of its foil.
Children at play heaving heavily, the parents are no where around.
While galaxies crumble like sponge cakes, and black holes come eat the remains.
Meaning can taste very bitter - when nature’s locked outside the house.
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6. |
Shall We Sow Some More?
03:16
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Tell me what to buy and I’ll go get it baby.
Let me come back home again.
Tell me what to buy and I’ll go get it for you.
Just let me come back home again.
I’ve been playing hard, the games I’ve played to get to where I belong.
I’ve been playing hard so hard that i forgotten where I’m from.
Forgot to play it hard for me.
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7. |
Ssssss
10:26
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I’m sick of hearing things like no ones acting no one tries.
Like all the phytoplankton curling up to go and die.
My non-existing kids are gonna kick and burn our spite.
Am I being selfish by panicking my own demise.
There’s a new apocalypse that’s headlined everyday.
But I never feel it cause it’s so damn far away.
Life can feel a dream a pile of rocks that break away.
Pre 20and12 feels like nostalgia coated with roses.
The ultra rich they suck our dicky-ticker flutters wild.
Sail jets of air to hope to meet some meaning.
Numbers add to numbers add that hinder meaningless.
At least you get the front seats with a complimentary drink.
Class of 2020 round a bus stop lit by honey-shade.
1 is sharply dressed, under shelter warmly rested.
The others damp and restless hoping soon the bus arrives.
The thing is we keep changing the bus stop.
This isn’t you or me it’s us and there’s no way, we’re staying Alive until we act alive.
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theslowpianos UK
Good soup music
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