1. |
india
01:31
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these are your blessings:
so many friends lining up in the hall
while you are drunk in a car park
and reeling,
cursing them all.
laurie, I read it in your eyes.
you have never been more scared of yourself.
get back up,
trash that canvas;
turn it out on the world.
these are your blessings;
so many pennies for you in the well.
the well, overflows
for you.
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2. |
red meat
04:43
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they put you in your place
and pack up all you've known.
seal your paintings in a crate.
into the Thames they go,
and float downstream, silently.
the money you owe will swallow you whole, spit your eyes out.
you claw at the walls of this life.
your world's become so small; I am not here at all.
your world's become so small.
cascading ceiling comes,
bring floorboards from upstairs.
the dust it packs your lungs, splinters coat your hair.
you're terrified of everybody your age.
the plans that you shelve, turning in on yourself in pointless anger.
you wait to begin but when the bell rings you won't hear it.
your world's become so small; I am not here at all.
your world's become so small.
glass and chrome excuses.
you're still you, just glazed and hollowed out.
glass and chrome excuses.
when we first met
i swear you would have torched London for the truth.
but now you say "It's just a point of view".
you'd have razed London for the truth.
but you now you say you don't have it in you
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3. |
kindness
03:08
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there's a single bullet in the gun
that we’ll use when the time is right,
when they turn on the floodlights.
now they’ve changed all the locks again
but they can’t change your memory;
only lecture you on progress.
they say, "you're holding up the future,"
as they make us all homeless.
"go fend for yourself".
there's a rumble as the dozers come,
fat faces glaring out.
but you are lost in a picture of then.
remember that day when your brother moved us in?
eight pounds to our name and a plan to start again.
because the windows leaked and the paint was peeling,
they said we were scum.
so move in some city boys and a couple of artists,
paper over everything
and fence off the garden.
stood in the rubble,
well, they got what they wanted,
but they won't get this.
they can't get this.
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4. |
night comes to rest
00:55
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- is an instrumental -
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5. |
the patient
04:23
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i am talking to the patient, and the patient is mute.
i will bring her ageing magazines and the latest from you.
crunch of gravel in the driveway says you've come back home;
a little distant and lazy; off somewhere we can't go.
i am talking to the patient; she responds in monotone.
a simple yes or no just so I can tell the kids back home.
flash of lights in the front room, back and forth you go.
through fingernails and through phone calls, surrounded and alone
"there is nothing wrong with you,
you are free to go.
there is nothing wrong with you,
you are free to go."
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tiny blue boxes London, UK
bleeping, strumming, and whinging since 2008.
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