1. |
Overture
01:28
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2. |
Rattlesnake
02:31
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Clear the bugs from their eyes.
Consume all my children,
and if I can’t have their love,
at least leave me admiration.
The sun hits me hard
like your confident face.
There’s a story, here, brewin’
that you might not like,
and it ends with a lack
of your god’s good grace.
Now I may have bit too hard,
or a bit haphazardly,
but all I truly want is to rest easy.
So skin me alive
and throw away my insides.
I’m a head in a jar.
I am camphor and turpentine.
And have you heard about this ‘cure-all remedy,’
that’s one part rattlesnake
and one part charlatan dream?
Now I may have bit too hard,
or a bit haphazardly,
but all I truly want is to rest easy.
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3. |
Vampires
01:52
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She sinks her teeth into my neck,
though she’s the one who’s terrified,
I must admit.
Stay sharp, spite holy writ.
I sing my song of vampires.
You dance by candlelight,
but I won’t bite unless you ask me to
reanimate your body through…
A taste of satyriasis,
a taste of blood.
What’s the point in livin’ life,
if you ain’t livin’ life with someone you love,
who gets under your skin,
and never lets you feel human again?
She sinks her teeth down to the bone.
I miss that taste.
I can’t let go.
Lord knows that I’ll never let go.
I’m a bat out of hell,
but I ain’t far from home.
A taste of satyriasis,
a taste of blood.
What’s the point in livin’ life,
if you ain’t livin’ life with someone you love,
who gets under your skin,
and never lets you feel human again?
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4. |
Widowhood
02:42
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Teach your cigarette a lesson on the sink.
I’m hung down from the fencepost,
like your puppy on his leash.
Unfiltered,
lightheaded.
I can smell the smoke
to where we’re headed.
No wonder you’d felt so awful,
never ever go back to the waters of Omaha.
Little birdie blinded for a bit,
like I’d been drunk four nights out of five in the last week.
Clip empty,
unleaded.
No bargain scotch,
no luck in heaven…
Or hell,
I know I ain’t the first.
I’d be damned if I’m the last.
I’ve got this pigeon’s heart.
You’ve got an eye for emptied glass.
Some might call it ‘widowhood,’
and some might call the cops.
Oh, I’d trade all these spit-stained cigarettes
for your forget-me-nots.
Unfiltered,
lightheaded.
I’m breathin’ unfiltered,
lightheaded.
Guess I’ll see you down in hell.
That’ll be swell.
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5. |
Ovis Aries
02:38
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What lacks in life,
you make up in landmarks.
Keep your wits about you
as you long to make amends,
but I’d do it all again.
Cry out for the cosmos.
See yourself in every creature,
and every creature in yourself,
and you know no sorrow
for Ovis Aries.
Six horns short of a symphony
and I let it get the best of me.
Athamas’ daughters drowning,
cloven hoof against his head,
and I’d do it all again.
Cry out for the cosmos,
and if it shines it must be golden
like a fleece of sun and stars,
and it knows no sorrow
for Ovis Aries.
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6. |
Opossum
02:42
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My little ones crawl up my back.
Stark white teeth,
pink gums,
I ain’t no alley cat,
but I’ll still eat your trash,
climb highway exits,
eat beer cans for breakfast.
Every can I visit, I’ve got to admit that I might not make it back.
I ain’t playin’ around.
The true black is coming.
There’s no use in running
from a sixteen wheeler headed southeast out of town.
And I knew it from the start,
in my little junkie heart,
that I’m better off dead
that a scoundrel in bed around noon.
Pour one out for opossum,
who lay out there, rotten.
Hope they scrape ‘er up pretty soon.
Scrape ‘er up real’ soon.
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Just Nick Berkeley, California
"Semi-revolutionary + Bedpunk" LP Reissue now available for preorder via Lavasocks Records!
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