1. |
Payphone Poetry
02:53
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PAYPHONE POETRY
Oh YEah, we could call it a heartbeat
But I wouldn't wanna dance to it
Oh Heck, we'll call it a cat fight
Nobody stop them there's a chance they'll kiss
(this is Payphone poetry)
Laughing at me, oh ha ha ha ha
It's always
A familiar mix of your scent and smoke
now your cigarette butts are the breadcrumbs in my memory
So go hang up and run because the rowdies are out
but I'm changing my number
I'm never gonna ring you again
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2. |
Hour of the Wolf
02:00
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HOUR OF THE WOLF
I'm stressed
I've got a lot on my mind
I got bills to pay and cats to feed
I got a voice in my head, oh the shit that it says
You suck, don't try, get fucked and by the way
everyone you love dies some day
Oh did I mention I'm stressed
then I let something inside
and it feeds on the fear that it makes in my head
laughs as it counts down the minutes till bed
HOOOOT hooot
That's the sound of the Owls in my space
liminal spot, ticket to nod, drop in the hay
but the hour of the wolf is close at hand
another night, another stand
Intrusive thoughts
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3. |
Egregore
04:16
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EGREGORE
The lock breaks and you're in
an uninvited guest in my house
but you've been here before
you know every rusty door and every creaky floor
and so you creep up the staris
back hunched, barefoot steps till you reach the top and think
one last chance to turn around and leave the way that you came
but you did't come this far just to quit and play it safe
(we've got our whole lives ahead of us)
just breath and reax and take it slow
At the foot of the bed you stare and whisper
hello sleepy head
a sickening smile parts your lips
revealing jagged crooked teeth
so if you're back inmy life, let's get a few things straight
before we jump back into this mess
(yesss)
I'm in control
and there'll be no more shit like last time
(agreeed)
No butcher backs, no fingers crossed
I wanna know that youre hearing me clear
(i'll be different from last time)
I hope
i hope
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4. |
Black Heart
03:42
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BLACK HEART
Just lay your head down
On my thigh I'll sing for you
You're chest is heaving
I can feel you breathing it soothes me too
I'll douse the fire out
You'll close your eyes I'll sing for you
A lullaby
As best as my black heart can do
Just lay your head down
On my heart I'll sing for you
Your fear is growing
As the water's flowing it soothes me too
I'll shut the light out
You'll close your eyes I'll sing for you
A lullaby
As best as my black heart can do
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5. |
Clive & the Trickster
03:15
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CLIVE AND THE TRICKSTER
There's a problem
With your words
Maybe not here
and maybe not there
now listen
I never said I knew juuuuussst where
but I can guaran-fucking-tee
They are buidling mass
they are taking form
and it's hidious
and viod
and without a doubt
out of control
and it's just a matter of time
before it come looking for its home
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6. |
Limited Hangout
03:06
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LIMITED HANGOUT
you made a fool out of me
you sneaky snakes in the grass
(hissssssssssss)
making plans behind our backs
your talk is cheap
just like the booze that lingers on your breath
Bags of cans and clouds of flies
kitty litter mould and lies
it takes a lot of work to look that cheap
just the same old sad refrain
and still everytime I hear your name
it makes me wanna..
What's that old chestnut again?
make like a tree and fuck off
What I mean to say is
you don't mean shit to the trees
I shouldda seen the sings
pack a bag it's eviction time
(bye bye)
cause you've been livin' rent free inside of my mind
for toooooo long
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7. |
Maybe (a lament)
01:33
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MAYBE (a lament)
maybe I'm just as much to blame
for all the times I let it slide
and didn't call you on your shit
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8. |
the Morel Special
04:31
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THE MOREL SPECIAL
McTavish stopped in Fraserwood, he was running out of gas.
If it wasn't for that lunatic he would have made it last.
But when that fucker who was tailing him had the balls to pass,
he swerved to cut 'em off and in the mirror saw 'em crash.
He pulled into the station where it looked like someone lived.
But only the blackened windows were staring back at him.
He saw a poster for a Sesame Street figurine -
you used to get one every time you stopped for gasoline.
The only place in Fraserwood that looked like it was open
was the Morel Restaurant & Bar, with its 2 for 1 promotion.
McTavish walked across the street, starved and anti-social.
Inside, he took the only seat unoccupied by locals.
They all looked like potatoes, each of them a bumpy mess.
One woman either had three eyes, or one hell of an abscess.
"What's the 2 for 1?" he asked the waiter when she came.
"Another Morel Special, is it? I'll make it once again.
It's the wild mushroom version of the tastiest champaign,
and as I told you last time, pairs well with Chardonnay."
"Look, Lady," said McTavish, "I'm not who you think I am.
You can cook me anything you want, as if I give a damn."
The pump across the street," he said, "Who owns the J & J's?"
She shook her head, said "No one has since 1998.
One Morel Special coming up." "Hey! But the sign said 2 for 1."
"Promotion's over," she replied, "It's that or nothing, hun."
The restaurant was packed with suits and aging civil servants
whose skins were red and molding and flaked as if they'd burned it.
This shitty little town smells like a hunk of rotting cabbage.
I should have played it safe and got the chicken and cheese sandwich.
And then someone behind him barked "Do you fuck pigs, McTavish?!
I bet you do, you dress 'em too in pink nylon and spandex."
The waiter yelled, "Hey, cut it out! I've had it with you, Travis.
Don't bother paying customers, and watch your fucking language."
She brought the Morel Special, threw the plate down on his table,
a thick and meaty mushroom on a fresh everything bagel.
It tasted like a sponge but with a strangely beefy flavour,
like a bloated marinated tongue, familiar, like a neighbour.
When the walls began to move McTavish knew something was wrong.
His hands erupted in what looked like yellow parmesan.
He felt something balloon out of his forehead like an arm,
a mushroom like the one he ate wriggled like a worm.
He looked over at Travis who had turned into a pig,
and who was putting on pink spandex and 7/8 length leggings.
"You poisoned me, you bastards!" McTavish stumbled to his feet.
"For you," the waiter's voice harassed him, "the Morel Special's free."
He ran out of the restaurant, his mind was getting hazy.
Is it just me or has everyone in Fraserwood gone crazy?
He found his Ford Sonoma running, and there upon the dash
was an Oscar the Grouch figurine and a quarter tank of gas.
His face began to morph, he felt his eyes bulge out on stalks.
His throat was foaming mucus, and he coughed and coughed and coughed.
He sped away from Fraserwood, that decomposing town,
terrified all he could do was make a gurgling sound.
He saw a truck ahead of him. He flashed and honked his horn.
But the asshole tried to run him off the road at every turn.
He saw the licence plate was GYR 726,
and before he crashed he realized the licence plate was his.
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9. |
Are You Out There?
05:29
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ARE YOU OUT THERE?
Hello, are you watching
are you lurking in the shadows behind me
into the dark I scream HELLO
are you listening
I hope you like what you see
cause it took all my strength to leave
People out there creepin round my backyard
Strangers out there sniffin round my street
creepy notes on garbage cardboard
like a ghost wrote me a postcard
sittin scared to go outsideand see
you got me runnin'
Theres a little grey spot inside of my head
where your words still fill me with abject dread
like a stone tape stuck in an endless loop
they go around and round and round
into the dark I scream HELLO
are you listening
I hope yo like what you see
cause it took all my strength to leave
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10. |
Mobile Vulgus
03:22
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MOBILE VULGUS
Your fucking sign is such a blight on the landscape
it hurts my head
it breaks my heart
ego on full dispay
unteathered empty and Grey
We're mad as hell and were not gonna take it anymore
we've got your number
and were showing up at your front door
It's time to settle the score
(wahhhhh)
all I hear is White noise
your privilage is showing
we get to be while poc die in our fucking streets
no justice no peace
they've got the money
but we are the filthy unwashed masses
those dirty fucks dont even pay their goddamn taxes
we'll take our piece with rocks and sticks
clubs and rusty hatchets
WHEN THE MOB COMES KNOCKING
WHAT SIDE OF THE DOOR WILL YOU BE ON
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Midnight Review Presents Anola, Manitoba
Fiercely DIY...
Unapologetically Lo-Fi...
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#MatthewPowersArt
#MidnightReviewPresents
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