Bastards
Bowing to the rot
Uprisings Off
For every soul in hell
Plant sugar in the crops
Time to roll the simians in clay
Homeless
Bitter queen of cops
Fire into the ground
Stand everything you've got
Up to the seven fingered hand
That picks the nose of pollen bombs in shame
Now unemployed
Not picking those boxes anymore
Cop bills on phones
Not working for discs forever
In New Norfolk
Now I'm standing under tubes on fire
Out in the cold
I see a dead star's rising
And Marx says it's part, of my heart
The beat, the blood it pumps
Through the dark
But I know
I don't feel safe here anymore
But I'll stay
Because safety's such a bore
Out on my own
No place to call my home
And I'll roam
Forever
If anyone says
Just stay home
Don't roam for years
For work, for none
And now here's
I saw, worse things, to come
So don't sleep employed
To file report
Marlow says it's safety, through jobs
Some small social connection called love
But I know
I don't feel safe here anymore
But I'll stay
Because safety's such a bore
Out on my own
No place to call my home
And I'll roam
Forever
But I know
I don't feel safe here anymore
But I'll stay
Because safety's such a bore
Out on my own
No place to call my home
But I'll roam
Forever
Forever
Tom Lyngcoln defines inspired angst to us, and little comes close to replicating the visceral energy that churns through his music. This is it in it's purest form, I guess. Kandalini
Like the Smashing Pumpkins had a mutant child with a unicorn. This is modern grunge, and a fucking ridiculously awesome, totally unique voice that'll give you goosebumps and a tingle down your spine. Kandalini