Brasstronaut: sounds from the sandbox


Brasstronaut





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Brasstronaut




Old World Lies

The old world lies
Better not to be mislead
The old world has eyes
Peeping out of the back of its head

Magellan and Columbus signed our death warrants
Dealing with the back of merchant ships
Cugar cane and spices made the worst of us
Chains a’rattled all across the sea

The old world lies
Better not to be mislead
The old world has spies
Creeping out the back of its shed



Brasstronaut




Insects

Let them our
Their broken heads weighing us down
Let them out they’ve seen the mess we made
They’re crawling back home

Dry your wings in the wind
Fly away
Try your wings in the wind
Can’t wly away

Sick of it

Lights below
The dark drifts won’t leave you alone
Slow it down, the path in front of me
I’m crawling back home

Washing sins in the street
Can’t walk away
City’s crumbling down
Crumble away

Sick of it
Sick of your shit
Sick of it
Sick of your shit
Sick of it

Trying hard to escape
From the sandbox
Even when your wings have been plucked off
Been plucked off
By routine
Scratching at the sidewalk cracks downtown
Slow it down
Slow it down
When the day has closed its eyes on you
Again



Brasstronaut




Requiem For A Scene

Sunlight won’t lie to your pale face in spring when it comes
Warm winds will dullen the edge of our razor blade tongues
Make me a child put me back on the sand of that beach
Sailboats and seaweed we’ll sunburn our skin in the sea

But you spend all your time acting cool for the kids in the scene
And you spend all your money looking cool for the kids in the scene

Cuz these days
It’s nothing but Vice magazines
And cocaine
And tapered jeans…

Escape from the clubs and the Montreal magazine trends
Sharpen your Pitchforks and burn down the internet
Biol all your cellphones in cauldrons of hang-over sweat
Stick up the dj outside of his Virgin store set

Cuz these days
It’s nothing but Vice magazines
And cocaine
And dj’s
And tapered jeans…

Make me a child put me back on the sand of that beach
Sailboats and seaweed we’ll sunburn our skin in the sea

But you spend all your time acting cool for the kids in the scene
And you spend all your money looking cool for the kids in the scene

Cuz these days
It’s nothing but Vice magazines
And cocaine
And dj’s
And polka dots
And tapered jeaaansssss!


Brasstronaut




Brasstronaut



12.01.2009
 


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