It's All Over

by mr sterile Assembly

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    skirted 12

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about

skirted 12

credits

released December 5, 2015

Chrissie Butler : Bass, vocals
mr sterile: drums, vocal

Recorded, mixed, mastered by Mike Gibson at Munki Studios, Wellington

The package was paid for by the massive support from a community of interested folk who partook in a crowdfunding project with us.

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Home of skirted Records, stable of DSLB, mr sterile Assembly and assorted side projects

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Track Name: Ettie rout
One handsome skill in shorthand, the other instigation
Scribing lines, in miner’s halls, worker’s word to print edition
Sharp head high, sly subvert, the many expectation
Toe to toe, text and tongue, to suffragette and politician

Long northern nights, station lines, from the train into the cold
From the trench, to soft arms, giving cover, ease the load
That war of sex, of loose love, or homely mothers preaching No!
A foot each way, on thin ice, and the other on hot coals

Talk the things that won't be told
Do the things that need be done

Between the Christian and the deep blue sea
Between the syphilis and the censored memory
Between the sergeant and starch purity
Between the empire and the ‘wickedness’ of Ettie
Between the front line and Parisian embrace
Between the new age and biblical disgrace
Between the coalmine and expected woman's place
Between the future and the past was Ettie‘s space

On Massey’s word, curse your name, you were hid from view
Breaking rules, saving lives, return the boys as good as new
The endless task, sieve the sea, watch the water running through
Sad bitter end, by your hand, swallow quinine darkest blue
Track Name: Lucky Tart
Lift your last gold hope into the mouth
Forever open throat, the endless feed
Wish upon a lucky star, the desperate prayer
No care as the thrill substitutes real need
Drop the golden hope down in the well
Hold in excitement, holding open jaws
Better than sex caress metallic lips
Hesitate and hope against hope for more
Hypoxic dreams of better things, break the grain
Predictions flood, all bright and light and splendid
Kiss the lucky tart, to Maker/Banker send
Sing praise to the future-metal-tender
Long moment, hold your breath
Maintain a user friendly short term memory loss
Commit only to this single punt
Coin by coin live the incremental cost

Hunt the last golden hope at rainbow’s end
In a backroom bar that stinks of piss
Reflect the shine of lights in hopeful eyes
The dollars fall through air from sweaty fists
Lustreless haunts attract gambler’s hope
Golden lust among the poor in greatest score
Fantasy spent now wallets void of rent
Feed a fleeting sense of maybe maybe more
Spend intense pretense, this'll make ends meet
The hardest, hardest work, hunt for luck-in-store
Eternal holding hope, place the bait on hook
You get what you get! What are you good for?
Gravity grabs the daily need with heavy heart
Somewhere someone situates an addict’s fix
Plant a dream machine to strip the junkies clean
Bribe community with sweet financial gifts
Track Name: Know No Superman
The bleeding grieving endless, the bloody struggle ageless
The future’s looking sageless, no Superman on the rise
The righteous bias poppy scythe, Philofficer sharpen lines
Death-eye prophet moneytise, no Wonder Woman saves the day
#Hashtag record, type to say, fame in meme, or any way
Trolling, lolling, feeling brave, no muscleman to flex, react
Precise divide distract attack, lying 'honest', good cunt pack
Upset regret, stab in back, no giant beast wreaks the world

Taking stock, unblock clot, seek a sound opinion
Take this rope, lift from throat, skip to other option
Like a rock, one that floats, rising like a question
Lighten mind, hearts in kind, freely with the flotsam
There's a road, straight and bowed, infinite direction
On a globe, no other home, despite some proclamation
Living lends lives alive, try another notion
Life aligns, time to flick this disillusion

A scoffing mocking spittle hurl, a guilty fucking holy hell
Suffer silent, do not tell, no magic wish revives the show
A flagrant scornful undertow, witless whimper high brow low
Concrete violent toughlove blow, there's no monster teeth in the dark
Fearful smirking smiling shark, rabid soundbite worse than bark
Survival style slide on mask, no masterminds cracks the plan
No second choice where to stand, do what you do, where you can
Mistakes are made, try again, no UFO to save us
Track Name: Othering Heights
Three years since the last break, not a single day off since
Paradise is busy by the bay
In orbit of the corner store, seven days a week
Seven through to seven every day

Upper flat, inner city, such a long, long way from home
Double cleaner’s wages pay the rent
In a tiny condensed world, make do in a single room
Quiet touch only, beside the daughter’s bed

Living third world in a first world city

Employer brands the loyalty, keeps the manners nice
The old bloke at the front desk, bites down the bitterness
Stress value first impression, try to smile with missing teeth
Fight for slight promotion and pass the urine test

Living third world in a first world

A state house by the motorway, a tiny condensed space
How many can camp down, into a single double bed
Fever likes the company, attracted by rheumatic heart
Win the prize of penicillin, or a surgeon on your chest

Loud hear them
Lucky them
Who were there
And who got out
Don’t hear them
Other them
Who are there
Who can’t get out
Track Name: Persona Ficta
From somewhere from the Universe, to right here at our neck
To impregnate every moment with a life-defying threat
Inner, out, or market space, adaption rife without regret
Operates as moderation, behind benign a mean affect
There’s aliens here among us, who assume the plumage human
Parasite inside a life-size host like a thing from science fiction
No loving breast or warm embrace but an art to farm devotion
Deathgrips: Comfort and Psychology, instigate domination

Presenting evidence of their presence, every branded household dream
Deep embed in lonely home, spread neurosis, spread dis-ease
We roll over, a little closer, suckled on these instant gifts
To fill a hole, redacted world, we're not sure Now what we mean
Stand dead right close beside them, there's no life to recognise
Just light and walls and bored encores of a song of better lives
See this ‘Is Not’ Is on paper, Persona Ficta realised
The vapor hands of No-Spaceman, will when in need materialise

The panic's live as chatter riots, sublime control and battle lines
Attachment clamps a little tighter, warm persuasion for the mind
Eating future, selling children, gentrify ahead of time
Stealing Earth in vast formation, hive-like purpose and design
Learning swift from indiscretion, act supreme, attacking low
Why hesitate if others suffer, just as long as no one knows
Pangalactic, psychopathic, claiming shape with legal prose
HUMANHOOD like any other? Unhuman race. Not Quid Pro Quo!
Track Name: It's All Over
Live breathing meme, on ’n’ off the screen, rapid mixing streams, sick of how it’s been.
Eloping hope connect, handhold, Twitter, text, begin’s begun, what next?
Reboot and fix up mess. Assemble, age and word, threat met,
undeterred.
Hook up, shrinking world, find a new song and a chord.
Think fast, pushing through, both old and always new.
Light on lies half-true, now occupy and throw a shoe

Shops are leaking feet, grand folk find the street.
Those who can can meet, passion, pass on please.
Anonymous,
in view, first were some, then grew. What can you add? It’s you.
Above these clouds it’s blue.
Call out, rowdy crowd, witness, shout out loud. No chaos of the herd, different’s not a dirty word.
Synchronised, aligned, disparate, entwined. Challenge wilful blind, critics with a waking mind

A spark and flames will grow, fluid finds the flow. The more we do we know, how we tell and show.
Cross all time and date, cross zone and state. Realise, relate, rewrite not emulate.
Matters now to stand, common goal and plan. Maker, message, hand, megaphone and spray can.
Surge on rising thought, first level, fully formed. More same than different born, this road’s a road well worn

This is not my game
Game’s not me
Me’s not game
Not in my name
Not in mine
Track Name: Useless Shoplifter
Checkmate useless shoplifter
Done for flogging food
Part poor choice, part poverty
Part nothing left to lose
Hand on back, Oi unload coat
Here's embarrassment to gain
Now the game of justice
Now the catholic guilt and blame

Some offered sympathy
Some offered me a feed
When outside feeling alien
A good choice is hard to see
The whip of shames our culture
It’s hard to ask for help
Some see the things that influence
Some say simply 'blame yourself'

Hunger hung as reason
Among a blank list of options
Sometimes it seems impossible
To know that you have got them
This common life your own your own
No place you trust to turn
Then the lessons of desperation
Are the tricks that you will learn
One chance at young and spiny
I put myself in front of risk
Basic needs then intervened
Cos life is more than punk or piss
When hardship lands on hungry ground
It's more than poverty of coin
A poverty of trust and choice
To grasp that hopeful line.
Track Name: Stinkmata
Smell something dying? I think it maybe me
Sit inside this warm decay with some company christened WE
Exercise some judgement, enact this happy family
I've got the smell of winning and the taste stuck between my teeth

Smell something dying? It's these opinions and my views
That settled at the baseline, dress charisma up as proof
Take tithes from the guilty, impress with bling to bring the youth
Manicure the most conviction on the screen with holy news

Smell something dying? I think it could be faith
Preside inside this mind-high wall protected with a set of pearly gates
Accept no less than devotion, an act of trust like cool kool aid
Sellvation comes at wicked times, begs the question "who has paid"?

Smell something dying? I think it is my destiny
Preordained by ancient times this scent, envelopes me
Simply rule, spare no rod, no time for common pleasantries
When the scent of kingdom coming cum, this destination isn't free

Who knows, maybe, you cannot tell
Or locate the source, of such a smell
Perhaps, maybe, no source at all
But the stinking flesh of your chest wall
That smell, maybe, it’s the afterlife
That hopeful place beyond last night
Forever dream, reside maybe,
With the resurect and cold zombies.
Track Name: M'Sheen Machine
Wet lips, hello eyes, silk curve, desire lives
Bright skin, shaded tone, looks nothing, like your own
Taught thin, longer legs, work tease, think sex
Neck stretch, glamour shine, pinch parts, fading lines

So real, budding lie, common flaws, in disguise
Higher brow, model=truth, shopped to life, picture proof
Come pose, blinding light, feast feed, hungry sight
Glam fame, pretty new, the projection, Virtually You

You do not look like you
Who do you look like

What carrion for photographer
And other needy beasts
A meal prepared from your meat
We hunger at the feast
Flaccid love for saccharine vain
Invisible sons and daughters
Admire lies in vain star light
Your lips can't hold water

Wet lips, hello eyes, silk curve, desire lives
Bright skin, shaded tone, looks nothing, like your own
Taught skin, longer legs, work tease, think sex
Neck stretch, glamour shine, pinch parts, Virtually Mine
Track Name: 100% Hillary
Last on
First off
Last on
First off

Shallow minds of plastic victory
Everyone here is called Hillary
Hide the teeth behind civility
Bias binds eddies of what you ought to be

Tighten times with petty worry
Pick on ‘Them’, pick off poppies
Two short planks, got one over me
Grow straight and dense
Woods hid by the trees

Grandiose ‘against the odds’
Falling Bighead gleeful thud
Grind to gravestone, martyr’s mode
Social suicide to rock the boat

All else fails, compete to win
Compensation - the right to binge
Hard knocks in lots, never whinge
Fuck the wimp and the victim

100%
110
150%
Mean
Track Name: UFOtago
Stop the car, here we go off Presidential drive
Hang a left and overland by foot
Inflate ordinary to something unexpected
Rumour writes a new histories course
Hear a whisper, hunt with broken compass
Magnet pulls away to a secret, secret caught
Speculate on some massive past destruction
Heave and cleave with Gore and force
800 years, perhaps, the truth will out
Smack! Seven silver craft arrive and nose dive
Transmute mundane to glorious speculation
An event that hints of something more
Look there, the skies on fire to eyes in China
Jan says the shock, it rocked the Pisan tower
Tapanui flu blew from foreign space invader
And tilt the axis at the core

Perhaps it’s not some young drunk kiwi ET
But a thing more vast and dark and fearful
Lovecraft sentences sense a deeper truth
It’s danger to a mind if not careful
Common scum mumble among the shadows
Mongrels grumble on the wharves about a trip
A vicious hideous in the hinter of the inland
Of drums and flames upon the hills
In from Port, South East of Paradise
Hunt hidden gold, disrupt by savage view
This remnant pain of some past domain
The scars of the old god Cthulhu
Claws like teeth, set to cast asunder
A wet and salty kiss to wrap around your throat
An age beyond an age beyond our comprehension
The dreadful West Otago long ago