1. |
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2. |
On Getting What You Want
03:10
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Georgia Georgia with your eyes as black as hell,
Staring at you was like staring down the bottom of the well,
We would talk but not that much,
And when we talked we wouldn't touch,
Until you took the pill and blossomed in a hot electric rush.
If you meet in a loud place you'll deafen yourself,
If you meet in a dark place you'll blind yourself,
If you step into that spotlight you'll ruin yourself.
'Cause I just wanna know you,
But do you want a little more?
If I can't sleep in your covers,
I'll sleep on your floor.
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3. |
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4. |
Crown of Suburbia
03:38
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There's a murder of crows in designer clothes,
Behind the knee-high rushes, in the blood red bushes,
There's a man with a phone telling me to call home,
'Cause I'm always throwing up and complaining of hot flushes,
So my head is hung and my parents are rung,
And there's a hot alcoholic heat on my still infant tongue,
The leaves are falling in crimson waves,
Against a blue back drop with a sound track of pain,
And I'm sat on the floor where it's crisp and it's damp,
And I'm staring at a faulty pumpkin orange street lamp,
Now the kids trick-or-treat with the costumes they've made,
And I whisper a wish to be of them again.
I'm holding on for you,
I'm holding on for truth,
I'm holding on for all that will be soon.
But instead it's gravel under trainers in a locomotive motion,
There's a boy under talons in the black feathered ocean,
There's a bedroom filled with distorted guitars,
And figures of Batman and The Biker Mice from Mars.
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5. |
The Deathtrap Is You
05:43
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In KFC I never see that the popcorn chicken won't fix it,
A love decease, talk in Japanese and I swear to god I'll hear it,
My skin crawls with all these particles,
I wanna fuck you, not read your articles.
You think it's all a deathtrap,
But the deathtrap is you,
Waste your hours whinging,
When all this time you knew.
Oh Ulysses, it hurts.
Oh Ulysses, I'm going through growth spurts.
To my gums, to my lungs,
my nails, my seams,
my glands, my bands,
To my crippled little dreams.
There's something inside of me,
Something magnificent,
Ungodly, demonic,
Loathsome and heaven-sent,
And I refuse to be drunk,
At the wheel of my soul,
I'm a Nazcar racer,
Not a still-born foal.
This way to the holocaust theme park,
This way to the private disco,
This way to the shattering shark tank,
This way to the yellowing snow,
This way to the emperor's whore house,
The pre-teens always on parade,
This way to the door never opened,
This way to forever afraid.
You think it's all a deathtrap,
But the deathtrap is you,
Buck up Rogers, you're flying, don't be blue.
This way to the Raygun Road,
This way to the sun and the shade,
This way to the door that was opened,
This way to never ever afraid.
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sleepwalk Newcastle Upon Tyne, UK
Sleepwalk is Jack Fallows and whoever else they can convince to sing, play, record or perform with them.
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