1. |
New Leaves
03:18
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I can’t be fooking harrissed
I’m going to live in Paris
Take LSD
Write poetry
And bollocks to me marriage…
I am a grown man
Me too
Yet I am frightened
Me too
The day is very dark
Evening is coming
Today I’m OK
The sun is shining
All we are is flesh & bone
Pressure sounds
Let the pressure drop
Right on pops
Little communist gift token
Something to do while you’re smoking
All we are is flesh & bone
Spandex index
Heavy metal blunder
Carrot juice and quiet
For yesterday’s demon-chaser
All we are is flesh & bone
You paint your name on everything
Yet still no-one knows who you are
Bantam phantom
The kids don’t know
You don’t check for the pickneys
All we are is flesh & bone
Squalor scholar
Art Mullah Omar
Final reckoning preceded
By innumerable others
All we are is flesh & bone
I’m bored of this apocalypse
I’m always off my bleeding tits
Red milk for you’s inside all this
Caned Christ on the crucifix
All we are is flesh & bone
Waiting for that crucial fix
Smiles weakly at the Roman soldiers
“Alright lads”
All we are is flesh & bone
Help me cross the road!
Bughouse…
You’re insane
I bet you think this song is about you
You’re insane
I bet you think this song is about you
Don’t you?
Don’t you?
Baby?
Last night I had a little dream
An old man called me “dude”
I’d moved out of his way for him
For fear of seeming rude
“Thanks” he said, by way of thanks
To which he added: “dude”
It seemed a bit unlikely
But it did make me feel good.
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2. |
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It's a kind of ugly town
makes you wanna burn it down
it's a kind of prison camp
the kids can't get their skateboard ramp
colleges and tourists traps
local scene is kinda crap
makes you want to slag the place
makes you want a change of pace
One day I'm gonna buy this town
One day I'm gonna buy this town
One day I'm gonna buy this town
And put it in my shoe.
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3. |
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This isn't a cheap can of lager
It's sunglasses for the visionary
East river saint
don't paint me in faint
don't make me out black
don't send me back
I'm caned in the dark
I need an afternoon walk
I need a helluva lot
We need a serious talk
I know what I'm doing
At least in this sense
It's just the rest of the stuff
It's why I had to get bent
It's hard to be smart
There's no reason to work
The view is enough
The truth hurts
Sloppy christ
Take-away rice
It's not bad
It's not nice.
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4. |
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instrumental
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5. |
Your Head
00:51
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Which bit of your body needs to be sorted out?
Your head
your mind
your face
Aint right
Your legs
Don't work
Dole legs
shoes shirk
bludger feet
benefit check
On the street
with the other state wrecks
Alcohol
Season ticket
Even you know it's mentalistic
Come on
Come on
Come on
Come on
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6. |
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Speculation
Says I'm myself
But you dont know
I came here
Just a little while ago
You think your finger
Is accurate
But there are things
your digit didn't consider.
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7. |
Juju Train
01:39
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Who does he think he is?
Corporeal soul doctor
Coming in deathways
Singing it live
Infinite freakouts
You know you know
There's no end
You played yourself
Synthetic attack mode
Cultural breaker's yard
I love my good friends
In my life there's nothing left
It's just a Juju train
In my life there's nothing left
Who does he think he is?
What do you know of the railways
were you not apprehended at Guildford Station?
Caught out lying by The Inspector
Sent into panics
And forced to write letters of sorryness?
What do you know of Juju & the Black Railways?
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8. |
Black Part Of Me
03:26
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There is a Black Part Of Me
There is a little black part of me
Technical! Wack-Michael!
Chubby boy who grew up to be a terrorist
Bonobo chimps.
There is a little black part of me
Oh Um
I forged my chains
I fried my brains
I pull two ways
My heart's a stray
I live for nought
I feel too short
this thing I caught
What hath God wrought?
Oh Um.
Ho hum
There is a black part
My loop is snapped
my girfriend's back
I need a slap
My music's crap
The dogs of war
Have done their chores
Now they lie upon the floor
Licking at their aching paws
There is in fact a tiny part of me which does not belong
A merest sliver of blackness lodged somewhere non-specific and untraceable
And yet I believe the sum of its effects are undeniable
I may seem so good and white but I am really a sort of improbable Guildford Yellowman
Whose course is directed by an unquestionably black centre
It is a shame. I hate this weather.
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9. |
Fuzza Buzza
01:31
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All human races are indigenous to this planet, save one: the Scots.
The ancestors of the Scottish people arrived by the astral travel eqivalent of the rowing boat many millenia ago, and to this day are still struggling to adapt to our atmosphere.
This problem is exacerbated by the fact that they are almost universally unaware of their distant origins. And yet, they sense instinctively that they do not belong. Many feel lost, and confused,and experience a thirst that cannot be slaked. So, the next time you encounter a red-headed man in the street, call upon your reserves of tolerance, and though his ways may seem wild and untamed to you, address him with these calming words in his all-but forgotten alien tongue:
"You fuzza buzza. You fachin fuzza buzza."
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10. |
The Last Day Of Summer
00:57
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Call it a trip
You can call it a bag
You look after him while I quickly have a fag
Got to the Co-op & get yourself some beer
But you'd better do his bum before you leave here.
Oh yes & we need wipes, and yoghurts and that thing
That we've both learned not to mention
Lest it sets him off again
It's an average day in our tiny pink flat
And it's the last day of summer
But who cares about that?
Who cares about that?
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11. |
Super Wretch
01:23
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With your simple face you don't understand
How I need to be hurt
But you do it anyway
Normal pain-freaks hold me in awe
They bow down next to me, on the floor
They look at me sideways, and say “respect”
But even they don't know I'm the Super Wretch
Yeah hit me.
Hit me again...
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12. |
Macbeth In Africa
02:23
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Disappointment man
Can I call you Mac the man?
That homie McDuff
Wants to get fucked
See the fucking wood
Like the witches said it would
That Mrs Macbeth
got the fuck and kiss of death
Turn hellhound turn
turn me on
A Filipino Scot got a Rolex watch
Got a gardening shear
cos we're doing it here
The gang are the king's pages
With one or two lines
I ain't very good
But I'll wait for my time
Turn hellhound turn
Turn me on
Such a long time ago
An elephant shaped cake
Two sets of twins with the same initials
Suzie dead of cancer
Eddie had thick lips
The black witch never showed
My mum became a white witch
We did it in a dusty footy pitch
I was on the mic, promising a fight
Southern Africa, 1979
Swapo guerillas & black mambas
I shot myself in the foot
What was the real danger?
How should I have taken care of myself?
How should I have been cared for?
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13. |
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You know when you're there and you're with a young woman if you're a young man or indeed if you're any type of person that wants to be sat with a young woman or indeed a young man. Well anyway, its a summer evening and your sat there and the air is filled with the sense of romantic possibility and nature is humming with her own cosmic beauty. This time is the best time of your life, it may feel excruciating, but, the sense of possibility is the most beautiful thing that reality has to offer, that's my theory.
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14. |
Tomorrow Is A Big Day
01:32
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Bad boy, you force yourself
To new inspirations
Bleed yourself, like a fucked up girl
or a suicide, you write your wrongs
But you, have a right, to be wrong
if it isn't worth a fight
If it keeps you awake at night
Cos you might as well sleep
thru some of this slow distaster
For if youve got the balls
to turn this thing around
You'd better get some kip
Cos it's a big day tomorrow
Yes it's a big day tomorrow
Silent maids in the mains
Electric women tape record
All my genius, chop my penis
Is it evil? I don't know.
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15. |
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You never know
How hard it is for me to say
You'll never know, how delicate my ancestry
And there are things
That simply must be never said
So mark my words,
You'll never get the truth from me.
The whole of Dixie is rotten.
A long time
A long time ago you know
I said that I
I said that I would tell the truth
my real life, would be the subject of my art
Indivisible,
And now I realize I can't
The whole of Dixie is rotten.
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16. |
Driver Down
01:20
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Driver down
Couldn't find you in the hole
Reggae theif
the man that does the things to geese
PC crash every fucking day
Nobody helps me anyway
I'm lost in the details of my life
Sound suck, water drown, I'm going down.
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17. |
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I was so hungover, I walked out of the supermarket with my basket
Are you afraid to make a false start
Are you afraid to hear a Frenchman fart?
Are you afraid to go that far
Before you dare to speak to me
Are you prepared to make a statement?
Would you ever like to speak?
I'm just a real human man
I am not the king of beats.
I was so hungover, I walked out of the supermarket with my basket
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18. |
Unhealthy
02:14
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instrumental
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19. |
Two For The Show
02:18
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Pregnancy on myself
I'm a real soul-driver
Can't get enough
Take me home
One for the money
two for the show
three to get ready
and four to go home
five for democracy
six for sex
What has become of us?
What the hell's next?
Race under seige
See under fucked
Up on our hind legs
And down on our luck
Meteorites come fall from the sky
Mash up the Earth
no-one left to ask why
Dog in a jumpsuit
Spinning in space
Bury your bone
In a different place
Christ on a bicycle
Man on the moon
Streets full of people
Me in my room
Don't want for company
Beg for a crutch
Put on a mask
And the fucker got stuck
Grin for posterity
Weep for the past
Hold out your hand
To get up off your arse.
One for the money
Two for the show
Three to get ready
And four to go home
I think when I talk.
And you clink when you walk.
I try to be morally sound
Is that why you put everybody down?
I can see the invisible.
Is that why your face looks funny?
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20. |
You Maybe Understand?
02:06
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You Maybe Understand?
Day by day
Hour by hour
Peace in my head
Is all of your house
This document software's
Freaking me out
These people have jobs and cars and lives
And I'm just a storybook/character/lie
You maybe understand?
Warranty void
if you peel back the song
There's nothing in here
That's right or wrong
Inside the faction
we're helluva close
The words are the water
The mouth is the hose
You maybe understand
They made me understand
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21. |
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Let Them Guess Themselves To Death
Ooh, don't let 'em smile at you
Don't let them know ya
Let them guess themselves to death
Ooh, don't let them take you away
Don't let them know ya
Let them guess themselves to death
Ooh don't let them smile at you
Don't let let them know ya
Let them guess themselves to death
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Pete Um Cambridge, UK
"A master of the miniature electro-acoustic song-poem, a form he has more or less invented and crystallised himself, his
work displays a sardonic wit combined with a healthy misanthropy, in marvellous micro-collages of voice, instruments, samples, and electronics."
-Ergo Phizmiz
... more
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