1. |
Monty
01:31
|
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2. |
Dandy
04:54
|
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3. |
Clifford
03:25
|
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You spoke with rubber lungs
And in foreign tongues
To that other mother that we had used
In southern squalls last June
But to the same tune
I'm spitting silver spoons
And hoping that bitter twist comes soon
My sleeves are wet
From washing and re-washing my hands
Until the skin is soft
And red
And the wool upon my jumper's felting
Who's that man's face looking at me from the mirror?
Affecting an effacing grin
With eyes like rust-stained concrete poolsides
But hollow inside
Like still-born, burst-vein, salt-sea, neap tides
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
You keep your top pocket stocked with cigarettes
Like a nicotine corsage made up of pretty little gold florettes
I read your past in the carcinogens
In unburnt carbon and filter flower-stems
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4. |
Someone Must Do
01:42
|
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5. |
Spit It
04:04
|
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6. |
Anyway
05:42
|
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7. |
Scaredy Cat
01:07
|
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