21st Century Gore
Lyrics
And I...
the more time you take
the more time you have
the more life you live
the less life you need
and I took her hand
and I lost control
and I took a role
and I touch the wall
and I leave with naught
and I loved the word
so I killed the word
and I took another chance
and I believe that one day
we heathens will make our fucking way
but I took an evil way
and I just like this evil way
and I and I and I feel this every day
every day every day every day every day
and more and more and more and more...
A Tingling of the Nerves
(instrumental)
You Ride a Red Horse
i took the blood from a hammer
i took the hammer from the snow
i took the snow from the winter
i let a memory go
i saw my breath on the window
i watched my shadow on the fog
i felt the rhythm of a motor
as I glided along
you do not you do not have to
you do not you do not have to wait that long
you do not you do not have to
you do not you do not have to wait that long
his body tensed like a fist of glass
his eyes burst like releasing gas
his bones surfaced like a broken screw
his stomach parted like a shattered tooth
i saw the eyes in my headlights
i felt the impact in my hands
i saw the splatter on the windshield
i heard a crack and a laugh
i took the horns from a weevil
i took a bowl for the dead
i put a man in a hollow
hammered teeth from a head
you do not you do not have to
you do not you do not have to wait that long
you do not you do not have to
you do not you do not have to wait that long
you cast your blood like a net to the sea
you sowed your meat like a metal weed
you sweep your skin into a pair of wings
ascend descend into the state of things
and a Man’s gonna ride a horse
he’s gonna bring his son
he’s gonna shoot a gun here here here
a Man's gonna bring his son
he's gonna shoot a gun
he's gonna ride his horse here here here
a Man's gonna ride his gun
he's gonna bring his horse
he's gone shoot a son here here here
a Man's a gonna ride his son
he's gonna bring a gun
he's gonna shoot a horse here here here...
i sent a message and the message was you
i sent a message and the message was you
i sent a message and the message was you
you didn’t listen when I promised to you
a threat to someone who has nothing to lose
is less a threat than a dangling noose
i threw the anger in my stomach
at the fear in my head
but now I hear the Man coming
and my motor’s dead
Tear it Apart
missed all the deeds
that were between the art
message received but
they'll tear us apart
the name that you wrote
and the string that you hold
the string may be cut
and your word is not gold
a ring's not a memory
it doesn't turn back
and when we all leave oh
we'll never come back
The Mulch
ears pulled back to show small eyes
in a fat face kind to lasting grins
dry them in the mud dry them in the mud....
oh, does anything just disappear?
they do the disappearing pig trick
Feed them to the pigs feed them to the pigs...
Don't Shit Where You Live
you wedged the key you lock the door
always looking and wanting more
you set up the pieces in the tableaux
you played the light you watched the show
and all because you fucking had to know
because you’re singing on the streets
you’re bored with this
it’s all been done
it’s all a mistake
it’s all messed up
because you’re singing when you leave:
‘Don’t shit where you live
Don’t shit where you love . . .’
because you’re singing on the streets
it’s all been done it’s all been done
and you’re running on the streets
singing on the streets:
‘Don’t shit where you live
Don’t shit where you love
Don’t shit where you bleed
Don’t shit where you kneel’
until you’re singing on the streets
and running on the streets…
you leave the couch you burn the door
your perfumed god is hunting thought
you lay her down you bare your teeth
you mark her name you leave it in
you’re only just a word away from harm
because you’re singing on the streets
it’s all been done
it’s all a mistake
it’s all spilled out
because you’re running on the streets
singing on the streets singing on the streets
‘Don’t shit where you live
Don’t shit where you love
Don’t shit where you bleed
Don’t shit where you kneel’ ….
you know the tune was from a relative place to where you’re going to
you’ve lived and you’ve loved but the world’s not enough for where you’re going to
this is what you make of a relative state and when you look beyond there’s just an empty space
it’s worse in a way when you look to their face and when you look beyond there’s just an empty state....
you knew the score you knew the score . . .
you knew the score you knew the tune
you were entertaining but now its June
your tax is due your pay is late
you bleed a hand you turn the plate
the rot is deep the skull will show
if only teeth to let you know
that education left you dry
with neither hand on either side
knowing more than to keep you safe
not change your name or trace your make
you catch the news you wait for doom
but all that’s left is a swollen womb
the child is come it has no fate
its feeble hand will soon learn hate
you’ll see it come you’ll know its mood
you’ll know enough to spot such brood
well in your day this all will grow
and all that’s good will leave the show
you’d love to see the world mature
but adolescents mocked the cure
don’t shit where you live
don’t shit where you love
don’t shit where you bleed
don’t shit where you kneel
don’t shit on yourself
don’t shit where you eat
don’t shit where you hate
don’t shit where you love
don’t shit on yourself
(because you're running on the streets it’s all been done it’s all been done it’s all so new it’s all so old it’s all under the world it’s all under the sun… )
you lived and you loved but the world's not enough
and when you look beyond its just an empty cough
you lived in that case in a relative state but when you look beyond there’s just an empty space an empty space an empty space....
Blindfold (Reprise)
send the message through me
this is message central
no need to pay for favours
everything's under control
she's the master matrix
she's a madrigal
she has fear and favour
waiting for sun and Sol
send a message through me
this is under control
push away the silence
on your way home
The Constant Work of Analysis
this constant work of analysis is not the first
to clean up your home
if everyone on the street was a psychologist
there would not be enough psychologists
there would not be enough empathy
there would not be enough clinical minds
to cure us of what ails us
not enough forensics
to trace its fingerprints on the road
she saw your best mistake
it’s not a secret statement from someone who knows (Sammy has a gas mask)
may you sing upon the street
we all survived
(Johnny has sliced off his fingerprints)
it’s hard to say
we’re all messed up
(Donny could just be one more shadow on the street-)
let’s all get up
(-ready to slice your throat and roll you into the gutter-)
hear us singing where we can singing on the streets...
Blindfold
send your message through me
this is message central
no need to fear your failure
everything's under control
write upon this paper
none of what you saw
seems you have a fever
and you cannot be that sure
face face face up to the long wait wait
face up to the long wait wait
face up to
keys are shaking as you walk towards your car
speed out from the station lead the way away from harm
face face face up to the long wait wait
face up to the long wait wait
wake up to the long wait wait
wake up to
keys are shaking as you walk towards your car
speed out from the station lead the way away from harm
Not Something I Give Away
shapes on the wall and what d’you see?
takes no imagination to see
the cost of a question in the night
or to shudder like a moth at its first light
why would a zombie tie you down?
you’re getting in the line-of-sight of town
but that is not something I give away
that is not something
that is not something I give away
that is not something
the hearse is moulded to the night
daddy’s got a god of invisible light
and every time they say that death is now
it doesn’t mean a ghost is in the house
but that is not something I give away
that is not something
that is not something I give away
that is not something
sitting down for another dumb consumer
burning it down for another dumb consumer
fucking it up for another dumb consumer
bringing it round for another dumb consumer
standing up for another dumb consumer
pissing it all on another dumb consumer
spreading your arms to another dumb consumer
chain them to the wall and let them in
money got honey pot
can’t stop can’t stop
getting on hot getting on hot
getting on hot to where you been
can you have a reason when they wrote a bad scene
but don’t stop don’t stop
can’t stop the engine for another last stop
and don’t stop don’t stop
for a lover of reason it’s a very long shot
but that is not something I give away
that is not something
that is not something I give away
that is not something
sitting down for another dumb consumer
standing up for another dumb consumer
pissing it all on another dumb consumer
spreading your arms to another dumb consumer
Just a Little Joke
it was just just a little joke
this was just just a little joke
this was just a little little little joke was this
if I had kept my fucking mouth shut
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
this was seen in the middle
and this was seen in the middle
and this was seen in the middle of this was seen
oh I see
if I kept my fucking mouth shut...
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
i should have kept my fucking mouth shut
and I see
do do do....
yes shut shut shut shut shut shut shut shut
Fear is a God
fear is a god fear is a god
did you tell me did you make it
was the statement overstated?
fear is a god
fear is a god fear is a god fear is a god
was your fate what you made it?
was the stupid simulated?
was a face so mutilated?
fear is a god fear is a god
and since when you placed it
have you got the fever dated?
is the cure on its way
or have you got another hand to play?
fear to bring on fear to bring on
is your grace all that you feted?
was your love all washed and braided?
are the thoughts at last translated?
wasn't what you stipulated?
fear is a god
you solved you solved the problem of the Eastern bloch and you solved you solved the problem of the Eastern bloch ...
Radar
in the cradle babes are watching
in the cradle they watching
in the cradle they stay watching
oh the babes they just say one thing
in the cradle fable watching
where a little radar's growing
in the cradle radar watching
but the radar sees us knowing
and you're rising up
how you're turning out
how you force us to fail
and you're rising up
how you're turning out
how you force us to fail
in the cradle fable watching
and your mind is buried on one thing
and this crazy bullshit's something
to which it seems you're slowly building
and the radar all day watching
and they say it'll be this one thing
but they're scared you'll find a pleasure there
that the message one day won't be theirs
and you're rising up
and you're turning out
and you force us to fail
and you're rising up
and you're turning out
and you force us to fail
and the babes are good for nothing
as they face us all day long
failing failing you're failing you're failing
and with your eyes on the fable watching
while the radar's saying something
and you're rising up
and you're turning out
and you force us to fail
and you're rising up
and you're turning out
and you force us to fail
and the radar radar watching
and the radar radar watching
and the radar radar watching
and the radar waits for the mulch
Daughter of Dark Places
(instrumental)
Album Notes
The bulk of this album was a burst of songwriting in Perth around 2006, with some exceptions. I am fairly certain the Mulch is the oldest song, based on a melody that may even be pre-2000, while Ride a Red Horse is the youngest, written around 2012. Other than that I have no precise memory of when or in what order the individual songs were written, just that some came from a short period of interest using a bass and piano instead of acoustic as a tool for writing, while others overlapped with a large collection of fragments, some of which were turned into songs and put on earlier albums, e.g. The Horde, Favourite Runt, and You Little Bastard.
I was not particularly invested in the lyrical content of these songs - they were improvised as semi-coherent free-association while I was composing the music and some phrases altered to match the initial wordsounds and intended affective gestalt.
The title of this album is not intended to reference anything unique about the century, merely the latest emotional season cycled across my albums. I associate this with T.S. Eliot's notion of mythic ritual being supplanted by routine in modern life, in this case a kind of empty and meaningless turning into a periodic state of anger defined by the prospect of change as well as the fact that the cumulative stupidity of our species, and the wilful stupidity of some specimens, make all efforts towards change pointless. More explicitly, the track list is distinguished by songs that express some aspect of the voidspace around "sub-subs", my prevailing term for individual humans who have disqualified themselves as moral subjects, and whose greatest real value lies in the relief afforded by their annihilation.
Glen Spoors, June 2006/December 2021
