|
1. |
|
|
|
|
Slowly commiting murder
A sick white rose floats in my vision
A green dyed fire glows on my hand
And what I'll do I'll never remember,
We're prisoners of reenactments
I couln't leave it if I tried,
We're prisoners of reenactments
It's not me it's the ink that lies
Standing at your front door
I hold a fat kids jaw and I'm wobbling
I'm a seer rising and I beat skinny dogs
At the feet of walls,
They said "Come throw the inkpot at the overly serious horse"
I get confused with what came first
My debacle or the drugs
And my Mamma she pleads with the world
|
|
2. |
|
|
|
|
Im going to phone your dirty daughter
We're going to cut off eachothers life blood,
And in the temple of vicious things
We'll be there just talking about spaceships,
I want to auction your filthy daughter
All she does is bark when i squeeze her,
The bowl I drink from has dirty water
She laughs at me with a dead dog's bone,
She says ' Oh little boy Im bigger than you are
With my arms around you, your not going far',
Home, she's tearing up the home
Home, she's tearing up the home,
I want to kneel underneath your daughter
She's going to spit on me at parties
My most stentorian plea for mercy
Will only echo inside this cubbyhole,
Oh little boy Im bigger than you are.
|
|
3. |
|
|
|
|
Look at that man jay walk with his staff
Like rickety androids soaked in ale
Our coach halts and I opt to hop off
I'll follow that Pied Piper and his unsteady friends,
We'll all blend behind blocks and launch our rocks
We'll all blend behind blocks and launch our rocks
I like that,
We all doff our hats when the Queen is driven past
We blanket our weapons and masquerade our gin
And when they have gone we can turn our smiles
Back to furious features no one can beat us,
Because Old man Shinner's going to rebuke all you sinners
Because Old man Shinner's going to rebuke all you sinners
Oh sweet sugar,
Going to drain the rain from the clouds
Going to touch the sun in an uneasy way
We're odd animals we're odd animals,
Needle through fog to teach me lessons
Pull apart the wind with a rounded needle
We're odd animals we're odd animals,
Toxic strems and marshmallow tree's surround us now
For heaven's sake dont tell no one you've seen us here
All choking gems under Devil's bridge
We're lucky your a kotowing laggard old girl
We're lucky your a kotowing laggard old girl,
But the real enemy is an eye opener
A fork in the finger, an upper cut punch
So the rumpus in our psyche will live on and on
Oh sweet sugar,
She lost three stone in two months
And now has the confidence to masterbate in public.
|
|
4. |
|
|
|
|
A breach of barbarity will dilute me
into a weightless mineral
pressured to the coif
and I' am aloof in this
Dribble on down
over Madoc's cage
give him a taste of your choking vacancy
pica pica eat yourself
The forlorn man makes love once a year
with commisioned women and massacre
murdered animals ok I'll stop
You thought I'd be the slaughter man
but nothing has happened so far
You said my life would be either good
or I'd be a murderer
so you have given me two options
Now listen to me
I'am on that what rolls
riding down with that which blows
see you in the yellow house
Dirty deeds and irrelevant needs
haven't you heard of the sparkling wash?
oh basta basta no more now
I envisage this day when I may greet you
from a belfry in ancient summers
Oh holy fool, gold mine's blow the mind
|
|
5. |
|
|
|
|
What they didn't tell you today
Is your trouble tomorrow
A constant repetition of things
I've already heard
And I lost all sympathy for that boy
Many moons ago
Like a piranha Like a piranha
fettered to my collar
I'm not going to have a better day
Until it's gone for good
And I dont need any chair for status
Just my gilded thrown,
Bring back the plague bring back the cure
Bring back the bodies bring back the rosy reef
Bring back the ice bring back the pincer
Come back you rabble come back and dance
Bring back my smile bring back the turf of Olympus Mons
You know I would for you,
After this reconnaissance I will need something to do
I know the enemy inside out but what's good for you?
I can take you somewhere where you didn't even plan to go
Your testing me I'm testing you
We're nothing but our patience
Glad to see you operate with precaution
My turn is only soon,
My gift for you is running away from me
My gift is not all that great
Constant repetition Constant repetition Constant repetition
|
|
6. |
|
|
|
|
Father how do I be a man?
Be opossed to your Mother
My dear son,
Father Christmas tortured mother
And Easter blew Fathers head
Again and again,
Girl how do I love again?
My boy you'll have to pretend
Again and again,
Summer makes you do Cha-cha and Rumba
Winter sees you do Slowfox in a hurry
Hurry,
I cant leave home unless your there
A guarding sylph over me,
Policeman how do I see the wind?
You never were born to see
Its colours,
June is blushful like that cherub
But she is immutable all year
Like the colours,
Birds are flying vertically
Trying to comprehend
Their direction,
|
|
7. |
|
|
|
|
Gone John's a dwarf inside a 6 foot body
Stood on a podium that's fixed to the pelvis
He operates the legs with sticks
That slot through the holes in his feet,
Gone John's an eerie bedside greeting
He's there when all his victims wake up
He's injected them with female hormones
He's injected them with female hormones whilst...
Writing a letter to the Queen
About a boogie and her pills,
Gone John Gone John
Gone John boogie is disguised as a giant
Gone John boogie is a long legged cunt
Whose a rocky fellow and a jaywalker?
Gone John
Who injects hormones into jailbirds?
Gone John
Who gives me money to say all this?
Gone John,
Gone John killed all the prisoners
Gone John was wrong
|
|
8. |
|
|
|
|
A diary of a brawny girl
Found with a pair of orange clogs
Down by the barren cove
Where three sisters poke the tired teals,
A place to be a beachcomber,
Flickering lights from the shore at night
All the bad eggs sharpen tall harpoons
Flagarant drunk sees will-o'-the-wisp
A failing torch is his crowning view,
A place you'll never ever return to,
Your curled up in a heap downstairs
Where people wish for genocide
Lift them out like ornaments
Drive for miles to the countryside
Abandon them with the rest of us,
Muddy eyes and your gone
Pack a lot of things
Fettered to the heavyweight of apathy
My body aches like a bruised pugilist
I'm anchored to a shipwreck of guilt
Extend your arms out to me and I will extend my arms out to you
|
|
9. |
|
|
|
|
Barod,
Jesus was a man with a spurious dose
It's written on the back of a rollercoster
Bitten by a pony bitten by bitch
No one would believe it ends like this,
My baby will slide from the handle to the blade
Bleed and look back at the friends she made
Rules are rules on the last day of earth
Lucky for us we're apathetic people
Lost breeze coming back coming back strong
Jesus was a woman with a knife not a gun,
If you see someone with a teddy over the age of twenty
Surely it's ok to kick them, kick them,
Nose on the floor I'm having such fun
The earth is a face and I'm licking it's tongue
Try and you'll fall it's an endless error
Try a bit more try a little bit more go on
Back bones are bruised from the bouncing castle
Laminated dogs dug their paws too deep
Everything is hissing the air is in a knot
All the kingsmen are waiting at the wall
Did you crash a car into Stonehenge girl?
Only if you did all I told you then you would
Crash a car into Stonehenge,
If I came on too strong then count yourself unlucky
Dreams are made of this,
By a bitch by a bitch
|
|
10. |
|
|
|
|
Things that lovers do will hurt you
Things that lovers say will stay forever in you
I did this too, I'm still knocked over you
Over you, Over you, Over you, Over you
|
|
11. |
|
|
|
|
Flutey sounds, shadows of the moon
And her, well, she merely weeps
Groundless, sinking into mire
And drowning, as the sky get higher
And higher, until what's off board
Is only seen again, in a precious picture,
There's a fire and it's burnt an edfice of memory
Oh a whooping cough kept waking the fire friendly shyster
Yes lord I know you, you spoke to me from a lectern
A people's choir, you don't live at the horizon,
And it's true there is a window of opportunity
To snatch a child, oh please do if your out there
I cant see me looking further,
My baby has eyes that change when she kill
My baby got an iris like a crimson son
And everyone without a sword will run
My baby has the eyes of the crimson sun
|
|
12. |
|
|
|
|
Oh the world is a motherfucking performer
Five of your finest ale's for that maiden
Tell me who gave the magic to the carpet
All of this will be veiled with a web
Oh the world is a motherfucking performer
Count me out of that visit to the igloo
I need a strange girl for my hidden praxis
All of this would be something I desire
Ah yes the world is a drowning senile
Without a blue suede shoe from your Elvis
I'm sorry that your operation was cankered
All of this is qualified jargon
Yes its night your head is rolling
A devil's wife is waiting at the gate
Ah yes the world is a tragic performer
I've got two's on the regatta's trophy
Someone broke broke broke my lights
They were caucasian and heavily armed
Ah yes it's black and also white
No one's out there except a devil's wife
Midnight city we all rampage
Stealing everything
Until we get to the gates
Devil's wife at the gate
|
|
13. |
|
|
|
|
(Instrumental)
|
|
14. |
|
|
|
|
Find yourself in pallid rooms
Shackled to warm heaters,
The drain pipes outside drip all night
Be willing, be ready and simper
Half your mind is there
Half is lost somewhere
Dont you let those hours rush your thoughts,
Just be willing, be ready and simper,
Oh sweet girl dream
Imagine a stream
We cause a splash
Next to a hill
At twilight,
When you swoon from the first sight of humans
You wake to find they had their way
You should of been ready and willing,
Oh the screams are too much
Just hold on to the rail
And be ready and willing for me
|
|
15. |
|
|
|
|
She sells vampires at discos
and theres nothing in world I can do,
Douglas struck the captain
a mutant calf in a frenzy,
Idum Terra Mudreta
Trid Toac Trid Toac Trid,
Idum Terra Mudreta
Trid Toac Trid Toac Trid,
Notice our apathy
nothing here to decode,
Notice our scent
We have not yet killed,
Macintosh veils your hair-lip
Waist tied by a shoe string.
The hat is carrier bag
You hold a honey buzzards wing,
Im warned that your precarious
And forbidden from Africa,
Idum Terra Mudreta
Trid Toac Trid Toac Trid,
My Mistress is Machiavellian
She has tasted the blood of many millions
Coming down like a flu
Come and help me sort out numbers, letters, the Ingrams and a virus
|
|
16. |
|
|
|
|
17. |
|
|
|
|
Nightspirit
You wonder in the house alone,
Everyone dont love you anymore
And if living mattered for you
Then you would want to be
Nothing more than what you are,
Nightspirit dont change
Be the shadow on the move
And greet me like you used to,
At the growing pale spot
|
Son Capson started sending me strange and urgent home recordings during 2008. His songs are all about attack. The piano gets attacked; your preconceptions assaulted; the English language besieged; his larynx napalmed. The end result is like screaming down the side of the Matterhorn in a go kart loosely assembled by drunk armadillos, with Tom Waits and a knackered piano as passengers' - Adam Walton, BBC Radio Wales
'He's a kind of one-man anti-folk troubadour from Aberystwyth' - Huw Stephens, BBC Radio 1
'Son Capson are something else - something else and I'm not sure what. Individual to an extreme, which is always better than boring, but not sure its my cup of tea - it's a sea shanty-gypsy folk - cripes!' - Bethan Elfyn, BBC Radio 1
'Mad attack dog eccentric folk punk. Song about crashing car into Stonehenge. You’ve got to be in the mood' - Neil McCormick, Daily Telegraph
'Like a marching band of gurning elves bulldozing the entire contents of an Aberystwyth drugstore down their gobs, Son Capson throw-up a relentless mix of early Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci, the contents of Tom Waits’ garage and Magical Trevor’s indelible pop sorcery' - SWN Festival
Son Capson‘s music is a vicious, yet necessary assault on normality, and a blisteringly crazed vindication of intuition and opposition of convention.-
anewbandaday.com 
