1. |
Bone Heavy
04:27
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Where have I crashed?
Some strange land without language
My bones heavy, the sun savage on my skin
Waist deep, where Bass Strait fills the Powlett
The thought of you, my son combing me back
to the shore
I’ll bring you here to see the Plovers tumble
Fish for brim, indulge your whim and careless stumble
We’ll follow the bush tracks out behind the old shacks
A strange new explorer, shuffling in the sand...
I am on the edge and peering over at you
Rollin’ free on a long slow avalanche
My bones heavy, my heart stone heavy
Careful as I lumber as not to crack the earth
‘neath your feet...
I see the years rolling home to us
Carving a brail in the salt cut stone for us
Carry me free
Come now, carry me free
Back in from the cold
Bring me back in from the sea, my son
I am on the edge and peering over at you
Rollin’ free on a long slow avalanche
My bones heavy, my heart stone heavy
Careful as I lumber as not to crack the earth
‘neath your feet...
An impending comet
I’m terrified of you
Outlandish giant
Trojan horse
Warrior
Carry me free, come now, carry me free
Back in from the cold
Back in from the sea
Crashed down in some strange land
Body still, in the warmth of the sand
Sun savage upon my skin
My chest pulled tight as you comb me in to the shore
Living picture
Paranoid beach, Bass Strait... apathy
The sun, done
I bristle as the Antarctic whistles in
The circus
Below the vulture
Fins, they circle us, they circle us
How will I teach you that it matters?
When it never really mattered to me
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2. |
Fever
02:51
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Plough the fallow
Pour the colour from my eyes
Chum the bowls in this bitch’s kennel
Where we poisoned dogs lie
I’m holding hard on a hand grenade
As the rat king coughs his serenade
Got to keep it... stum
Fever
Base rate goods at a top end spend
Fever
I won’t slow up til’ I reach the end
Fever
I’m cookin’ real hard on the things I’ve done
Fever
It’s gettin’ real fucking prickly in here...
Stone cold killer
Crack the whip
With a heavy hand, c’mon
Crack the whip
Body bucks for a filling
Fever sings as I wake the sun
It burns well this oleander
I let the brushfires fill my lungs
Fever
Base rate goods at a top end spend
Fever
I won’t slow up til’ I reach the end
Fever
I’m cookin’ real hard on the things I’ve done
Fever
It’s gettin’ real fucking prickly in here...
I am a pig in shit
In the land of the living sun
And I just can’t cool the burn/fire
I just can’t get it done...
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3. |
Bullfloat Zen
04:08
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I’m living Bullfloat Zen
in this carnival magnificent
A celebration of mobility and brawn
I keep my head set, out here in the thick of it
Between the traffic jams and the pumpies sharing porn
I’m drinking straight from my cup, I’m making my own luck
I’m tight and taut like a pair of new jeans
Come and drink from my cup
in this carnival magnificent
We’ll glaze some tops in the sweet spring breeze
Living Bullfloat Zen
Come and walk it
I’ll keep the beers cold while you roll out on the Bullfloat
In the cab of the old Daihatsu, Bruno is cooking
chillies with his lighter
He has a grappa with his coffee and never
butters his bread
He’s pushin’ 70, and still riding on the Bullfloat
His spine has more lumps than a sugar jar in a lunch shed
I’m drinking straight from his cup
Making my own luck
Out glazing tops in the sweet spring breeze
And if you drink from our cup
You’ll pull a healthy dividend
Live the wonders of the Bullfloat breed
Heading out to Caroline Springs
We’ll be done by midmorning then soak up some sun
before the change comes in
Fill me up, with all the sweet things
Fill up my heart before the distance comes rollin’ in...
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4. |
Magic
04:58
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Let us start now
Camera, action in a stranger’s tomb
Keep your head now
Embrace the feeling of impending doom
Beat your heart out
Beat that heart like a big old drum
To the future
Don’t be burdened by the years all done
Keep it thrilling
Keep it thrilling, son
Live for thrilling
Thrilling is the best way to pass the time
Keep your head down
Slip slow into the race
Let us start now
Find your rhythm and keep the pace
Beat your heart out
Beat your heart like a big old drum
Here’s the future
A fond farewell to the years all done, hey...
Keep it thrilling
Keep it thrilling, son
Live for thrilling
Thrilling is the best way to pass the time
Live for leisure, pleasure, pool side, beach side, ring side
seats fit for kingdom
Holiday, matinee, entrée, deep wave, a deep dish, lift
live for kingdom
A sad hatter, swinging in a loose noose, born still
skin slumped on his backbone, my boy...
Surrender to it, live it, elevate, levitate, make space
take shape, take shape
Live for leisure, pleasure, poolside, beach side, ring side
seats fit for kingdom
Keep it thrilling!
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5. |
The Plainsman
07:53
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In the Goroke Golf club bar, the Plainsman set our
conversation to the pace of a sinking stone
Pending fatherhood
My love for your mother
The provision of a home
He spoke knowingly of my perceived failings and guilt
amidst the maelstrom of adulthood
In response, I spoke feebly
I pondered on the correct pronunciation of his name
I could not close my fist
and my teeth fell from my face, onto the bar
I told him of my travels to the sunset strip, and the
aching that the dry lake Menindie had left in my stomach
That no matter how far I go, I’m never far enough away
and nothing is how I imagined
Even him
The Plainsman
He startled me with the suggestion of a strange collaboration
A doctrine or manifesto on the history and meanings of
Russian boys names
I imagined you, as me, and I felt safe
You
Ever knowing
Ever loving
Ever my son
And I, forever indebted to your love
Heading out toward the Mundi Mundi
Through a parade of wild goats surely
studying to twist my chariot
A strange fascination with this long old land
This big old pile of bones
Did I dream your beating heart?
Did I dream to life your breath upon my face?
And all the years to here?
I’m never going to let you down...
I’d seen an old postcard of the Sunset Strip
The sun pressed down upon the chest of lake Menindie
I drove out to the centre where the wet should be
And drank beer upon its bones
Did I dream the earth to dust?
Did I dream its final breath upon my face?
Did I dream the years to here?
I’m never going to let you down…
Amidst the maelstrom
As man
As lamb
The Plainsman was gone
It was then that you appeared, older than I
Assured and assuring
Refined
And brave
You spoke of a vulture
And the fastidious cleanliness in which she kept her nest
The warmth of her wings
How you gorged on the carrion that you were to enjoy all
to yourself, though always longed for a brother or sister
And now the Plainsman again
Amidst the maelstrom
Ever knowing
Ever loving
Ever my son
And I, forever indebted
For your love...
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6. |
Pressure
02:55
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I don’t want to be defeatist
but I just can’t get it done
I’m working all the time
I’m a shattered individual
I don’t want to be defeatist
but I just can’t get it done
There is no taming time
I’m a savage individual
Searching every night
Searching for a truth
Digging through this pressure
Sinking in the soup
I don’t want to be defeatist
I don’t want to be defeated
Every day repeat it
My energy deleted
I don’t want to be deleted
but this fire I’ve got to feed it
This fire, burning furnace
I need rest but can not reach it
Oblivion
Ambivalence
Morning affirmations
Traffic, work, bills
Someone change the fucking station
C’mon, change the fucking station
I got pressure... Pressure!
I need to get it sorted
I just can’t get it done
I’m a redlined meter
Brain in eggbeater
I say I’ll get it sorted but
I just can’t get it done
These are crazy crazy times
and I need to find a way to
Explore myself
Involve myself
In myself
Improve myself
Remove myself
Suit myself
Down is steep
I don’t want to be defeatist
I don’t want to be defeated
I don’t want to be deleted
Every day repeated
I don’t want to be defeatist
I will not be deleted
I don’t want to be defeated
My energy deleted
I’ve been drinking every night
Searching for a truth
Swimming in this pressure
Sinking in the soup
Baby, this pressure is a waste of time
I got pressure...
And pressure is a waste of time!
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7. |
Kalashnikov
02:57
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Rolled gold patrons of the rich
with mortgages and fetishes
Educated just enough
to keep our own accounts
Simmering social soup
flim flam and one-upmanship
Clubs and cliques and barbecues
false affluence and rot
Wow... Cambodge is incredible
you can do what you like with them
For a couple of bucks
you can fire a Kalashnikov
Catholics in politics
Racist, sexist
swinging dicks
Vile old pile of misanthropes
steer our little ship
Sports bet ads
aimed at low IQ’s
Deep slow drawls, fill the pews
In the churches of commercial tripe
we celebrate diminished wisdom
Wow… Cambodge is incredible
you can do what you like with them
For a couple of bucks
you can fire a Kalashnikov
Mining magnates clap their lips
about best practice for welfare recipients
Whist drinking an average salary
in a weekend on their yacht
Another death in custody
Another year of interest free
Another heart that won’t restart
in the lane you park your Beamer
Wow… Cambodge is incredible
you can do what you like with them
For a couple of bucks
you can fire a Kalashnikov
Young girls best not concern themselves
with climate change, earth and the end of it
Meet a boy, settle down
he’ll just as likely kill you first
One a week as we speak
women killed by men in this country...
Anyway, how good’s the UFC?!
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8. |
Hammer
04:36
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I’m a regular Richard
In a spiritual winter
You’re never going to reach me
Spiritual winter
I’m a low responder
I’ll have another burger
You’re never gonna reach me
I’ll have another burger
I’ll do the mash potato
The peppermint twist
The mash potato
It swings like this...
You’re never gonna reach me
A regular Richard
A low responder
You’re never gonna reach me
In a spiritual winter
I’m a low responder
You’re never gonna reach me
Come down hammer
Come down hammer hit the
sweet spot between the eyes
Come down hammer, come down hammer…
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9. |
Love
05:26
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Warmth wanders through my bones
as the sun bends through the windows of our home
Splashed on the pages, my crude interpretations of love
Let me read a verse or two for you Andy
Let me hear you musings in between
We fools fascinated, by the strange machinations of love
Love
Let the words thunder from your lips
Sink slow into her grip
Indulge and diverge, purify and purge
your heart
So, let me hear a song from you Andy
Let me hear your musings in between
We fool’s fascinated
and beguiled, in the palsy of love
Love yourself
Forget yourself
Rest yourself
Let yourself
Forget yourself
Love yourself...
And please...
Keep it together...
Love will be the revelator
Love will be the regulator, the incinerator
Love will be the institution, the affirmation
and the resolution
Love...
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10. |
Hillman Hunter
05:31
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The Hillman Hunter
in salt brushed Bermuda blue
Jewel of the Rootes Arrow
parked in a sandstone garage on
the corner of Glyde and George
We are rolling her out and jump starting
her down the George street hill
Lightly riding the handbrake on our descent
before releasing her into a free swaying roll
onto the Canning highway
I am giddied by her heavy leaded breath
and sticky on her seats
We ferry picnics up to Blackie’s
and park her up at Cockburn sound...
From the passenger side, I have you clichéd
in a colourful bonnet and oversized sunglasses
Neither of which I recall you ever wearing
You are smiling playfully, and I am careful
not to clip at your wings
In the late afternoon, the Freo doctor licks at the old
braised chassis and rocks us into a gentle slumber
Each time we take her out, I am slightly older
Not so yourself
32, though the Hillman was long gone before
you reached that age
My memories are at times over exposed and bleached
with the light pastel smear of the Hillman crawling through
Ferrying picnics up to Blackie’s
or parked outside the old railway hotel
Less and less do I venture into the mire of your final hours
I have the final photo of you at the beach
From that I have mapped your day
It is luminous and full
There will come a day that I’ll forget
Your memory has not left me yet
Time has not found me yet
That may change…
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Blake Scott Melbourne, Australia
Niscitam is the debut solo album from Blake Scott. Better known as a member of beloved Melbourne three-piece The Peep Tempel.
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