1. |
Black Boys on Mopeds
02:30
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2. |
Soul Cell
03:41
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More is being said than there is to tell
I panned in the windows to ma soul cell
They got footage of the truth I burnt it maself
An nothin is a story I won't tell...
Is this real? This blanket of right
Privacy's flashin her tits for a tenner a night
Bathed in Israeli surveilliance for a street light
It's a lie! That's the problem with it being fact
Do all people have potential to act like that?
If you base your statements on judges and acts
Hang your head on the pavement
Brace for contact
More is being said than there is to tell
I panned in the windows to ma soul cell
They got footage of the truth I burnt it maself
An nothin is a story I won't tell...
Politricks, circuses
Nothing's real doesn't matter
Give your freedom to the screens
Bank transfer mad hatters
Aye cool it's fine no worries that's the game
Need a Twistette's soundtrack to every mind frame
Nobody talks and everybody walks
But secrets are a currency
Magic beans spill a lot
Sleeves rolled and trousers down
Crack whip you run this town
But you will all fall far from grace
Forget ma name
Forget ma face
More is being said than there is to tell
I panned in the windows to ma soul cell
They got footage of the truth I burnt it maself
An nothin is a story I won't tell
Well Johnny's basement is burnt out
And the attic's on fire
The carpets mostly soakin
Upon that funeral mire
The people are gathered
In all their taxi numbers
Had to go home early
Coz some cunt smashed the floorboards
The vulture's are fed up
I hate this fuckin city
Could have wrote it better
Ends in armed pigs and false glamour
You get what yer telt
So make sure you tell it well
Don't end in mirrored armies
Trapped inside your soul cell
What do you live for?
And what are you looking at?
What do you see with your own two eyes?
What do you fight for?
What do you bleed for?
And what do you compromise?
We are free
This is free
Behind enemie lines
We are free
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3. |
Somethin Man
02:18
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Between spaces, identies and places
He's a somethin man
A scapegoat for skeptic hearts is not better than a broken hand.
I caught his eye on the fly at a backstage jukebox.
He told me power corrupts, life aborts
And all you have lefts is a bunch of warts
You learn and change so much it's insane,
But I've not changed
Weed on a beach in the rain by the river
It's a green-eyed game
I taught maself all I know on the back of a matchbox
So let me speak as a friend though the centuries hang
The belly of the whale is no place for a somethin man
The ass is the face of the soul of sex
You're the least somethin man that I've ever met
Love is a word that is used too much
Much too soon for a broken man to touch
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4. |
Ode to Sakine
02:20
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Three bodies and circles again
A woman who fought for the home she was denied.
Faith by elimination when the flags are flown.
Words of peace fall at the silence of a gun.
Taken from her freedom to a laboratory of lies
Memories constructed by other's red lines
A woman who fought for the home she was denied.
Three bodies and circles again
A woman who held her sisters in arms
Held in No.5 forced to feel her enemy's wrath
On her ceiling painted pictures of erroneous maps
Can you imagine watchin 34 friends die and rising again?
Taking arms and choosing words to explain justice to them?
A woman who fought for the home she was denied.
A woman who held her sisters in arms.
Three bodies and circles again.
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5. |
Beeswing
03:46
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Abi Normal Glasgow, UK
Abi Normal... is not normal. Genre spanning acoustic folk angry fanny music punk and rebel tunes, she writes and performs music and likes a good story.
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