1. |
DQ Storytime
02:35
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It always comes down to who tells the story
That way you work out where to go from there
So that the next time you hear talk of "stories"
Under half-moon light, you need to listen, right
Not partway up the stairs
Undone by lenient rhyme
I'm reporting a crime!
Natural disasters in some suburban town
In which the water doesn't run so good
Have you heard, the neighbour's boy copped for a beatdown
Without licence for those bottled goods
We all did what we could
Undone by median crime
Are we having a time?
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2. |
Flights
03:40
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Flights which work for you
Flights can work for the dilettante
A hopeless romantic (so I hear)
Flights gave me the confidence
To energise my bourgeoning career
We hope you have a pleasant trip
It's better when you don't resist
All for you
Swallow every day:
Three square flights for the citizen
Vapour trail through snowburst flights
She builds with wood and clay
And everywhere her wings are sure to go
Wheels up on the red-eye
Flights are always vigilant
Never fear, for flights are here
To tuck you in
Rest your eyes sweet lily pad
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3. |
Running From the Ball
02:49
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White top taking
A real hard look
He’s a ham hand hook
A cracked screen gathering
On muddied carpet of scratchcard failure
A Good Book pusher who lies
‘It’s getting easier’
The running of the bulls
The running from the ball
Is another night to turn towards
A yearning for that first good fight
Lit so well by bus stop light
When you feel reckless
Like an amusement park
Like it’s even dark
The dogs aren’t howling
One last text saying ‘yeah. Didn’t feel it’
I like myself in the advert script
The running of the bulls
The running from the ball
It’s another night to come back from
The fountain where those drunkards pass out gracefully
I could’ve been so much more thoughtful
Let you float to the rescue boat
Sooner or later
It will come pull you under
Don’t kill yourself for paper
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4. |
Penguins Are Gay
02:24
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An everlasting war on error
- scene missing -
Cider and cherryade
Woven like a brocade
Two penguins kissing
What did you do in the war?
Eviscerate the working poor?
Dox your mum's best friend
So she won't have to pretend anymore
I've heard they're swimming all back to Blighty now
Painted salmon, from red to blue
You can't keep it down;
This granulated tissue
What did you do in the war?
So red of face
(Swans are gay)
Know your place
Diminished as maybe
We've heard it before
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5. |
Ur-Ballad
02:44
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I’m only waiting for the man
To hurt myself again
When everything goes to plan
Such an honest face
I never swipe right on dogs
Touch-starved for so long
Inside the body that
Can’t break down
In the death glare there’s a heaviness
At the end of this scene
You can’t take me anywhere!
I heard that
Wait in the car
Can’t be seen upon the promenade He’ll make it up
Flashing around the platinum
At Emilio Pucci
It doesn’t fool me now
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6. |
A City of Chalk
03:30
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Partial memory of library
As abject failure of clarity
Well, it's bad brain on the down low
Codex: reset, a tempo
For all time, we thought, like idiots
A futile wind on a leafless street
The wretched sounds of flyers gathering
In the city of the brittle bone
The odyssey of the log jam bed
While the puffer coats pile up under the head
Where the city is a brittle bone
The city as an empire for ice cream
A shut down terminus in a lucid dream
Those spears of fragile light
Are a fickle business, money spider
At the time, we thought like idiots
A bitter breeze on a leaf-free street
With wretched rain-smudged flyers gathering
In the city of the brittle bone
The inpatient in Odysseus's bed
Watches puffer coats pile up under the head
Where the city is a brittle bone
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7. |
Back on the SSRI
03:32
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Hi morning light
I'm tired of trying
To blend in with the rested
The second voice has bested me again
I'm a phone on 0%
That voice says:
We might be stable
Now and again
But I know this isn't you
Come the evening
Arrive with the dew
Time to daisy chain
SSRI
It's been a while
I'll become human, incrementally
The universe takes me gently
In the night
When like a fuzzy radio
That voice says:
We might be stable
Some of the time
But I know this isn't you
Into the blackest heart
Which you know is mine
During the witching hour
Seeking shelter from the rain
In the park
With only the company of the lark
Whose voice is never breaking
Eternally ascending all the time
Like a spiral from all this stuff
So who says:
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8. |
The Tangerine Bowl
03:08
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Good game: glad you came
Freedom of choice
In a tremulous voice
The right hand says how the left one's going to be
You should be happy now
In that painted town
Another anniversary
Largesse and magnanimity
But nothing like that comes to pass
When mirror writing writes itself
In a cursive script
That doctor padding about
Just try unpick that knotted brow
Here is an object lesson now
Like it's a...
A half glass bowl of tangerines
Dust mites living on a figurine
The working out is inside the machine
Bitcrush folksong misery
Like it's some yoke of history
See, those fingers look clean
Good game: glad you came
Freedom from choice
Our effervescent boy
Whose right eye says how the left one's going to see
You should be happy there
All those cultivated airs
Around, and about
In that painted town
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9. |
In Rod We Trust
02:36
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Seems like it's all a pretence
Nobody's looking to stay
Does it make any sense
In a garden of light today?
Is that the way we're supposed
To scratch a living?
Up to the limit
Of medium man
With can in hand
From rust to rust
In rod we trust
I made an honest mistake
And thought no one's at the wheel
Just so long as we're sure that
None of this rests on a deal
If that's the limit
Of medium man
We do what we can
From rust to rust
In rod we trust
A nothing income
With nothing to serenade
Open to something new
But nothing is coming
Down the chute, no way
On the edge of the sea
At the continental shelf
Of this inelegant dream
Which is looking to write itself
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10. |
Who's Driving the Boat?
01:11
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11. |
Follow the Leda
03:22
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Hello world
I don’t sleep in you good
It’s not that we’re strangers It’s not that we’re blood
When they said
You can have it all
This one’s a swan
On conference call Delimitation trauma song
It’s my fault
A network of choice
With circuit-bent voice Integrated like memory
16 bit colours
Were all coming back to me
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12. |
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It's a while until the high will break
Noise floor push higher
Grab lapels and give the world a shake
Hells bells! A combo breaker
Carried on a front
Of another signal
Dark before the dawn
High highs and low lows
Crutch of a story that everyone knows
Not by the laces of my hightop shoes
Jerry-rigged together with a homemade fuse
I'll bring you something
Same things stuck in the craw
If you sell then you lie
We move in opposite directions
Sleep in Shifts
Fugue state don't remember a thing
Sink those ships, woah!
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