1. |
The Valkyrie
01:33
|
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2. |
Saint Valentine
04:09
|
|||
Saint Valentine went riding
Ride, Valentine, til the dawn
Saint Valentine
Ride on
|
||||
3. |
Three
01:54
|
|||
Three souls
Imbued as one
|
||||
4. |
X4Y
04:54
|
|||
I'll give my life up to you when my heart splits in two
And my hands in your hair, and my soul in your prayers
No
Sexless genderless sweet, with your slipperless feet
With your bread in the heat, and your face up to meet
No more
You gave your soul up for me, running fetterless free
Moving fair through the fields, with the hair that you wield
No more
I'll give my life up to you when my heart splits in two
And my hands in your hair, and my soul in your prayers
No
|
||||
5. |
No Slowcore in 2020
02:44
|
|||
Does anyone still make slowcore in 2020.
Does anyone still feel sad.
Does anyone even do anything,
except heavenly singing mad.
Did you hear about that guy sun kill moon,
turned out to be a harvey weinstein.
Everybody's saying this and that, but not me.
Me, I wasn't even surprised.
Did you hear about that Microphone,
dropped a whole audiobook.
Did I really need to hear all that stuff
About being sad and rich in Oregon.
There's no more time for such sad things,
It's time to do something else.
Just wait til you all unwashed masses
Hear the tunes on my B-side.
|
||||
6. |
The Anti-Whore
04:51
|
|||
Eucharistic music made from the flesh
Manifesto music made from the ash
I move with the music on the seventh day
I grove with the harlots on serpent's way
I jive with the virgins, I kneel and pray
And none you cowards hear what I say
And you call me whore
No more alt rock indie, I'm hard again
Straight ass-slapping like I should've been
The same white chocolate MC from back then
I'm the sex-having virgin in the lion's den
Still you call me whore
Eschewing the meat-space for the cyber sex
I'm a chaster spirit than 100 gecs
I'm a king motherfucker call me oedipus rex
Forget bout the zeitgeist because I'm what comes next
Rocker or rapper I'm the hardest of all
I got the muses on pager, never going to fall
Gouki gang sneakers, girl I'm back on the ball
The sword-eating lioness just gave me a call
I feel like I'm moving too fast past the best
Feel like a catholic who's just failed the test
Feel like old Goethe in Faustian dress
Feeling up a golden-skin silicone breast
I'm the anti-whore
|
||||
7. |
Touché Cuntfucker
03:30
|
|||
Touche cuntfucker, touche cuntfucker
Touche cuntfucker, touche cuntfucker
Well cuntfucker, you cunt fucker
Touche cuntfucker, touche cuntfucker
You know cuntfucker, no good cuntfucker
Touche cuntfucker, touche
And I'll forgive your sins
And I'll forget your lies
And I'll repent with you
Wash the blood from your eyes
Touche cuntfucker, you cuntfucker
Touche cuntfucker, see cuntfucker
You're a cuntfucker, you're a cuntfucker
I'm no cuntfucker, I'm an assfucker
And so cuntfucker, you shitcunt fucker
Touche cuntfucker, touche
Burn in hell cuntfucker, burn in hell cuntfucker
Burn cuntfucker, burn cuntfucker
Burn, burn
|
||||
8. |
||||
The instruments of degeneracy
Are falling down like tools from God
The sanctitudes of harlotry
Are rubbing on an obelisk
The dogkiller, he wakes at dawn
And roams through the fields with ashen tears
The poetries of disharmony
Are clanging out as timely signs
And I know, and I know, and I know, and I know
No, no, no, no
The simpleton who holds the knife
Against our loins as covenant
Degenerates with every tick
Of metronomic liebestod
The slags no more against the road
Return to coop with yolky clucks
The dogkiller, he rests at night
To hold himself another day
Castration dealers and anaesthetes
Have wiped the table clean of dew
And sterilizing with deluge
To wipe the earth out free of sin
The instruments of prophesy
Are clashing out a sombre tin
And dogkillers lurk beyond
Prepared to hold against the cause
And I know, and I know, and I know, and I know
No, no, no, no
|
||||
9. |
||||
The instruments of degeneracy
Are falling down like tears from God
The sanctitudes of harlotry
Are raising up an obelisk
The dogkiller, he rises up
And burns to the ground with ashen tears
The poetries of harmony
Are singing out a mutely tune
I know, & I know, & I know, & I know
No, no, no, no
|
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