1. |
Abended
02:28
|
|
||
Appearing as food again
crow-dried
baking to dust
Crafting fatality's crew.
she's ever so pleased but not
real, just
look in her eyes
she's a projection of you.
In the wrong camp again
You can't
Calm the strong down;
I suggest there a Wolf.
Fixing the daily core
quake. Cruel
crust of dawn heat.
Don't ever wash with no towel.
Everybody hand in hand, infectionate trend
You and me abending again.
I'm Distilling him while I watch you from above,
Hoping I can replace him and engender your love.
You're the one led me here,
No, no
That wasn't you,
That was just me follow I.
She's ever so pleased but not
Real. Fed antigen creed, swelling like yeast in the lie.
Paid the wrong auditor, you can't bevel the edge,
Hammer the backspace all day.
When the in-you is there with him
that's when it turns overdue flesh into gold.
Pumping iron in the grave. Can't you see everybody?
Everybody hand in hand, infectionate trend
You and me abending again.
I'm Distilling him while I watch you from above,
Hoping I can replace him and engender your love.
|
||||
2. |
Chillblains
03:04
|
|
||
What if the monster demands a mate? Be bold.
We'll let the lottery choose their fate.
Tired old people marry for the dough;
can't be any more harsh.
What if the monster goes out at night? Kicks off.
Ruins the ambassadorial head lock,
Now I'm tired of this job; tired of smiling like I'm not tired of tired people who complain cos they can't see they won't stop being tired even if we all start a war here.
What if the monster decides it's lost it's touch.
What if it outs itself at the next press launch,
hits Sonoma, settles down, starts a microbrewery chain.
What if the monster starts selling kids cocaine,
Rosacea, meteorism and chilblains.
Now I'm tired of this job tired of smiling like I'm not tired of tired people who complain because their love of tired fake moral panic stops them from kicking off a war here.
Name all of the monsters you know.
Love, truth, and honesty come in second.
(I can't reveal my sources).
Show me yours I'll slip you a mickey
while you're waiting for me to show mine.
These are not the droids you're looking for.
|
||||
3. |
Daily Male
03:11
|
|
||
This is not a test,
or a vague request.
It's an instruction.
'Cos I cannot invest
In all the effervesce
you are bubbling on.
So keep the parlour trance.
This is not a dance.
I don't even nod my head.
No, this is just me sitting down.
Have all the little birdies flown?
Replaced by winged monkeys spreading disease,
while foreign plumbers steal the family cheese.
The thought of me alive in your brain,
swimming in all your nonsense...
Give me back my ball.
CC my P.A. on the minutes of what you just said.
Still I woudn't make you ex.
Those fascinating wrecks,
kept you in the clear.
Until I realised,
what keeps you energised
Is elemental fear.
Keep you out of sight,
show me where to bite.
Let's go check out the dawn,
but never speak about the day.
Have all the little birdies flown?
Replaced by cancer tentacles in the streets,
with militarised immigrants at its teats.
The thought of us alive In your brain,
doing the things we don't do...
Give me back my ball.
Your love is like a 4 hour ghost train to Terminal 4.
Here's a parting gift;
something you can mull over on all fours.
All that you assumed was your heritage - well - it was never yours.
Now shut your beak and sparko.
|
||||
4. |
Pickaxe
02:41
|
|
||
I'm a sympathy card with a badge.
I say stuff like "I want to get in bed on you".
Sterilise the pickaxe I'm going in.
Here's the only thing I own with a skull,
a kiln fired post-ironic coaster.
Yes I love the way that you deliberately asked that guy
to make those spelling errors on your tattoos.
Sterilise the pickaxe I'm going in.
I'd rather nod my green leather flatcap along to Yes
than let on that I couldn't read the flyer.
Damn you - I couldn't read the Roger Dean.
But I'll smile on anyway, anyhow.
Looks like I'm not the only one in here made a terrible mistake
I take solace. I only date as bad as this ditty.
(or pot noodle).
|
||||
5. |
Not Come And Find Me
04:01
|
|
||
Say here I am,
not come and find me
Say here I am...
Why would you be looking for me?
Why would I be looking for you?
You can pray, if it makes you feel better;
I hear that's a popular substitute for action.
You're gonna miss everything cool and die angry.
Sometimes I wish that the world would let all its devils out,
not the ones that bait you every day on TV.
Ones that you can't keep at bay with charity singsong.
Ones that say 'well all you sang was come on and find me.
So here I am.
Not come and find me; say here I am...
It's only when your friends
begin shitting where they eat
that you decide that you want in.
Check me out I'm taking my taxes back.
Sometimes I wish that the brain would make a transmission to,
all the people that you just couldn't tell to their face.
So you can no longer keep them bubbling under
Maybe you'll just free up a little extra space.
Say here I am,
not come and find me
Say here I am...
Come and find me, come and find me
I won't give you a thing to navigate by;
Put all of my energy into hiding.
You know why I do this.
'Cos I'm a moron,
'cos I'm an idiot,
'cos I'm an ibecile, and I should know better.
|
||||
6. |
Torso
04:47
|
|
||
Hey Lambrini - get available!
It's more than just a Micky Amore, when I'm awake.
Put the cork back, shake the bottle up.
Lets see if we can trust you tonight with fizzy pop.
I don't need your damn approval, any day,
and your disappointment is just one more buzzing fly.
So when you go to bed tonight and you are all chewed up inside,
and wide awake, just imagine me smiling back.
So when you go to bed tonight, imagine me smiling back.
Here alone without you. Here alone.
Yes, I'll be sleeping like a baby without you. Here alone.
My laughing sorrow. Wet sorrow burns my face.
|
||||
7. |
Holy Fallout
03:30
|
|
||
Put down roots at the empty bar.
The cryptologist of the week,
waxes just like he wrote the song.
Got his daughter a polar star.
He's a dad that can cheek to cheek.
Slip the ring off and never speak.
When he checks the recording off,
he could be back in Mexico,
making glass of a client's jaw.
But when loneliness needles in,
got to peck like a collar dove.
Got to preach to be preached of.
So what's left for a polymath,
who forgets that the appetite,
of the public is commandeered.
By the meat in the day's parade,
not the invisible exposed,
but to kick stool away and cry...
I specialise in the helpless.
Holy fallout.
You specialise in forgetting.
Listen to me; I did it all.
No endeavor. No life. No idea.
Give me some punishment,
or at least some fake gratitude.
I could keep on.
I could kill each day,
but it never comes,
cos you find it easier to eat from the floor.
Not afraid I'm misunderstood.
Not afraid I'm confused with good.
Just afraid that i'll be ignored.
I specialise in the helpless.
Holy fallout.
You specialise in forgetting.
Listen to me; I did it all.
Come exercise amongst the dead.
Pumping iron amongst the dead.
|
Eat Your Robot London, UK
A sinister immersion composition supergroup featuring:
Mike Woodman (Thumpermonkey),
John Mackenzie (Godzilla Black / The Legion Of Doom),
Mike Hutchinson (Ex-Thumpermonkey / Olid / Todger).
Streaming and Download help
Eat Your Robot recommends:
If you like Eat Your Robot, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp