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13 MOON SONGS FROM MERRY HELL

by The Singing Loins

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1.
STILL ALL AT SEA First time up, its flesh is green and its tongue is black. Second time up, its teeth are crabs and its eyes are eels. Third time up, its jaw falls slack and it starts to sing... ...Still all at sea, still all at sea... ...Still all at sea... Still...
2.
THE NOBLE ART OF BURNING BRIDGES (listen up) Take a little petrol and a box of matches. Be sure to make the right decision, 'cause you're the type - feels compelled to burn their bridges. (am I right?) It's a noble art, a noble art Burning bridges, burning bridges... (look at me) Do it like an expert. No watching or gloating, Show the purest indifference. Be bold and true - Sabotage. You won't regret it. It's a noble art, a noble art Burning bridges, burning bridges... Grow a smidgeon of faith to a ruthless conviction. Go ahead, call in an air-strike. Max destruction. Who is suffering? What's the difference? (get the message?) It's a noble art, a noble art Burning bridges, burning bridges...
3.
Sunflowers 02:05
SUNFLOWERS Stop the car. Could I slip amongst your smiling heads and turn with you to face the sun and seem content? Drive away. I'm a stranger to you, and you to me. But, hidden here, befriended here, I may just grow. Please forget I ever was your useless child. Here I belong, a place to blend and disappear. Stop the car.
4.
YOUR AERIAL'S BENT, MATE I know you're just trying to be a man, a kindly man, but you're getting all the signals wrong. Cos your aerial, your aerial is bent, mate. Bent, mate. Your aerial is twisted and it's warped. Your aerial, Your aerial's bent, mate. Bent, mate. Your aerial is twisted and it's damaged, damaged, damaged, damaged, oh... I know you see yourself as an easy-going chap and it surprises you that others don't. It's cos your aerial is bent, mate. Bent, mate. Your aerial is twisted and it's thoroughly warped. Your aerial, Your aerial's bent, mate. Bent, mate. Your aerial is twisted and it's damaged, damaged, damaged, damaged oh... Oh, so laughably bent. Oh, so irrevocably bent. Oh, so ridiculously bent. Oh, so tragically bent, bent, bent, bent. And no pliers and no hammer and no nothing will ever straighten it out without breaking it right off, off, off, off. White noise White noise White noise White noise...
5.
LOVELY PEOPLE She lost her babby, which took her mind. Back to school on Monday, so far behind. Over there, the 'phsycho', it's just a panic attack. So, give him a cuddle. He don't deserve a smack. Lovely people. Love, love, lovely people, oh la la la la la… … Love. That one laughing, with the stars round her head. There's a million bottles underneath her bed. He's jumping Friday, if the weather's wrong. All his mates will say they thought he was strong. Lovely people. Love, love, lovely lovely people, oh, la la la la la… … Love.
6.
JUST THIS LAKE I'm perfectly upside down, on the other bank in the distance. See the trees on their heads and the slices of moon on the surface? But, it's the fireflies that catch your eye and you chase them back to the city. No, there's not much here, just this fathomless lake between us. It's the moon I feel sorry for, bearing the weight of our sorrows. She soaks up our tears and she hears as we scream and she watches. So saturated and overwhelmed, she's sinking, brimming with sad songs. No, there's not much here, just this fathomless lake between us. But, I love you... I love you... I love you...
7.
MATADOR REPENTS Suddenly appalled and sickened he sinks to his knees and cries - 'Where am I god?' The sand and blood, the roaring crowd, this field of honour, unfamiliar now to him. Out of the blue he sees a soul, right there, in the eyes of it! A thing he never saw before, in the glorious, exhausted misery. And it asks 'Why... Why?' A thousand battleships of blood, he piloted and scuppered in the shameful filth. Their grace and power, like his, admired; a cultured sacrifice. Or so he told himself. Now who feels brave and dignified, taunting when its spirit's cracked? So lowered by the Picador and maddened by the Banderilleros. What was it worth? 'Oh you should have seen my suit of lights in baby blue and gold. Oh, you should have seen my arse in it, you should have seen my bulge. Oh, the posters, and the TV... and the interviews... and the two-a-penny girls, bewitched. Hey Toros! Come gore me now and finish this. Both of us were born to it. I ask you for forgiveness. Let them haul me out by horses. Yes, and god can have my ears.'
8.
Pilgrim 02:11
PILGRIM Hey there, Pilgrim, won't you lift your head? See where you ended up, on your own and full of dread. Hey there, Pilgrim, is this where you want to be? Did you find any answers? Can you breathe, are you free? I know you believed in something, I know you believed in something. Oh Pilgrim, ain'tcha got no tongue, boy? Hey there, Pilgrim, are you happy now? Did you find some place where you feel fulfilled somehow? Hey there, Pilgrim, I wish I'd never said about all you dreamers, bound to get kicked in the head. My god, boy, you make me proud, my god, boy, you make me proud. Oh, pilgrim, ain'tcha coming home, son?
9.
This One 02:50
THIS ONE This one, got the stink of truth about her, got the sound of an educator, all brains and books and so-called facts and shit. Strip this one off. Tread this one down. Hang this one high. Bury this one, never to be found. This one, degenerate thoughts of freedom, got the air of a trouble-maker, all dreams and views and self-respect and shit. Strip this one off. Tread this one down. Hang this one high. Bury this one, never to be found. This one, there's rumours he knows his history, got the words of a story-teller, all ideas and questions and opinions and shit. Strip this one off. Tread this one down. Hang this one high. Bury this one, never to be found. This one, what the hell is that meant to be? I mean, it don't look nothing like me. All equality, inclusion and dignity and shit. Strip this one off. Tread this one down. Hang this one high. Bury this one, never to be found.
10.
Over There 04:30
OVER THERE Will they love us over there? Will they listen over there, be respectful over there, encourage and believe us over there? Are they funny over there? Be they happy over there, drugged up and sexy over there, somehow richer and more lucky over there? We're not resentful, just curious, over here. We're not fearful, just on our guard over here. Are they cruel over there? We bet they're godless over there, weird and disgusting over there, so vicious and suspicious over there. They are hateful over there. We find them guilty over there. They will betray us over there. They will mock us and destroy us over there. So, we listened and we heard insulting words, over there. Deceitful liars, one and all, over there. Listen: 'Are they hiding over there? Are they crying over there, suicidal over there? If they need us we will love them over there ...and invite them over here.
11.
She Observes 02:16
SHE OBSERVES She observes pathos and beauty from behind the sofa. It's all a horror to her, horror to her. She observes touching and laughter through her jagged fingers. It's all just madness to her, madness to her. She observes just how they do it, in a dirty reflection. It's such a craving for her, craving for her.
12.
I NEVER DANCE I found a photograph, such a ghostly blur, and there's the evidence - we must have danced. But no, something's wrong. How do you remember us? I wonder if you remember us, and, if you do, it surely wasn't dancing. You know I never dance. I'd forgotten your face, ditto my young face, but, not those funny clothes - the feel of mine, the smell of yours. There we were, spinning till we're sick. There we are, frozen, like a fact. But, the truth is, I never dance with no-one. You know I never dance. I burned a photograph and blew away the ash. You know, it's trickery - how pictures paint such rotten lies. I don't believe you made me dance in a place that doesn't exist. I deny it. That never was me dancing. You know I never, ever dance.
13.
THE CHOIRBOY AND THE CROW I fancy that medallion, glinting like feck on the bloody red ribbon, hung round his neck; the Chorister's prizes, of which he's so proud. He squawks all the solos in his blue cassock shroud. Now, he caught me grinning and swallowed the bait, yes, mistakenly thinking I was his mate. But, we don't make good pets, boy, we pluck ourselves sick and I know enough words to insult you, you prick. You're neither egg nor carrion, nothing to eat, yet, the thing that I'm after is bitter and sweet. I've learned to use tools, lad, which I shall use, lad, To winkle your noodle and turn you quite mad, lad. Don't it feel like a family, all these gargoyles and saints? But, your mummy and your daddy they sure as hell ain't. So, here's to the glory of blood, pain and ghosts, now that Jesus is within you, and other strange boasts. I bet you can't catch me! Come on, headstone to headstone. Come and see what I found here - some poor bugger's jawbone. Down on your knees, put your eye to this crack. Now, do you see what I see? God, ain't it black. I shall have that medallion, glinting like feck on the bloody red ribbon, hung round his neck. I went in up his nose and I flew round his mind. I shat on his tongue and left a feather behind.

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Blood red vinyl in a gatefold sleeve with lyrics available from www.vacilando68.org
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credits

released September 6, 2019

Chris Broderick - Vocal, percussion.
Chris Allen - Electric guitar, backing vocal, 12 string acoustic guitar, keyboards.
Rob Shepherd - Acoustic guitar, keyboards, percussion, backing vocal.
John Forrester - Electric bass, double bass.
Jon Gibbs - Drums.

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The Singing Loins England, UK

Chris Broderick started the Singing Loins with Chris Allen in 1990. Billy Childish became an immediate fan and released their first two 'trash/folk' vinyl LP's on Hangman Records. Damaged Goods Records then went on to release a further ten LP's, with Rob Shepherd joining in 06, and John Forrester in 09, until they split in 2013. ... more

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