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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Goodbye, HELLo, My Daughter the Spider, Slip: A Bogan-opera-not in 3 parts, Run Peter Run, Never Mind the Threat, Here's the Distraction, Speaking in Dungs, Ba-Umf, and 22 more.
1. |
Run Peter Run
05:16
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What are you running from?
What are you running for?
Away from something
Or swiftly towards
Sound in different worlds
Starts or Ends with a gun
A problem child?
Or nurtured to run?
Speed scored medals
Standing delivers fame
A message in a moment
Black brighter than flame
A right act costs more
Conscience like a crime
Divisions laid open
Where is your line?
Run run Peter run
Run Peter run run
Run run Peter run
Run Peter run run
‘68 Olympic Game
Starters gun Outer lane
Silver race Winning fame
Dias rise Changing fate
‘68, Olympic Game, Starters gun
Outer lane, Silver race, Winning fame, Dias rise, Changing fate
Left and Right, Covered black, Centre stage, Won reward, Second step Promise kept, Rising fist
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2. |
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The future looms under the gaze of
shadow men.
Who lock away, and hold invisible,
without trial.
The self-serving holds close its motivation,
a silent collaborate eye.
Into a house of glass, and severed from the past,
the select exiled.
What time it takes to turn this fertile earth into
modern mud.
What the crops grow for each, it's bitter/sweet,
such clear division lines.
Trading lives to stock the northern lands,
this is an echoed past.
In a loaded arsenal, a colonial rubber rule,
to be entwined.
It's a crime when the face of opposition states you
can't protect your love.
And when your progress goes against ruling thought,
it's there to take apart.
Sympathy becomes an academic exercise,
to appease oneself.
You can see the length of string, from the puppets to the king,
there lie the cords to cut.
Reclaiming gaze, look to symbolic North,
see it holds no spell.
As learning spread infectious flames jump,
from house to house
And swelling words, in 'flood tides' as intent
sets to organise.
With nothing many stand, to fight with whats at hand,
even if only just our mouths.
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3. |
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It's not the biggest racket since the bible
but mate, it's still a bloody good joke.
A claim-to-fame on another's name
from a family of reds and mirrors and smoke.
This den of trades down the end of main street,
this jack-of, a joker, this wild card.
With two keen eyes and a pencil stub
one-up'd the D's and high arts regard.
There's nothing concealed beneath this hat,
just a toupee to warm a wicked grin.
And a story delivered front tot end,
with all the 'authentic' colour in between.
Like trading paintings for fine white teeth,
to add a sparkle to a teller's smile.
Just add a name to a schoolboy's picture
then age with piss for complete artistic style.
Carl with a K
Karl with a C
The names the greatest prank
and Carl's as good as Goldie.
It was Rita who first blew the whistle
to the hands of demons across the road.
From boldness - BANG! - to quickly busted,
by dusty evidence, load on load.
From under the brush to under the gavel,
these fakes and frauds, the pretty forgeries.
From split opinion to minimal conviction,
the names the greats prank. And Carl's as good as Goldie.
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Home of skirted Records, stable of DSLB, vegetable.machine.animal, mr sterile Assembly and assorted side projects
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