1. |
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2. |
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'In our dreams we have seen another world'
But can we imagine the end of this one?
Can we trace our similarities,
or are we so different?
If we woke up in a Modern Utopia, would we believe it?
What could we add to it? Add ourselves!
Where are we headed?
How can we gather up ideas and look to horizons?
It always changing makes it real.
That spectre, still haunting, still stalking, apparition let us be.
'In our dreams we have seen another world'
it's not unfamiliar, it's been a thousand years
always derided by the devil that we know
but we have to speak louder now
because the meek won't inherit a thing
'Looking Backwards' and 'The Shape of Things to Come'
made it seem easier, made it arrive with the changing tide
'News From Nowhere', but we haven't read the map
still we keep looking
that spectre, come closer, draw nearer than you've ever been before
["enlisted in the cause of sin, why shouldn't good be evil? Music, alas, too long has been, pressed to obey the devil"]
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3. |
uʍop ǝpısdՈ
05:12
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The Chrome Arc left shining like it always did sparked luminous ribbons. And shimmer symbol, remind the side, that tonight, just below, something hung and swayed.
* * *
Turn the oceans upside down, let it trickle silently. You are speaking to me, but the words I don’t understand. The glass will be shattered out delicately and float into the air. Every word is a droplet now, but we don’t care.
Whisper, soft footsteps, and polish the stones. Slowly wear it down, steadily. Crooked silhouettes emerge from carved-out caves again.
* * *
Had it all been a sign, a signal? Had it all been a test, an endurance? Had it all been for nothing, for no one? Had it all been in vain? Had they been left in the darkness? Had they abandoned the remedy? Had they dug their own tombs from the rocks? Were they buried alive?
No! he’d been back there, the passage. Crawled down and seen it again. They could burn books by the thousands now ‘Through The Prism Played The Light’. They could endure for a lifetime ‘Through The Prism Played The Light’
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4. |
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5. |
May
05:39
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Hope springs eternal in the sugar cane, and on the rose plantation. Wind whips the water round the reservoir, and the incantation of ‘how we’ve always been is how it’s going to stay, and yet we’re left in the margin’. But when the Salvation Army, armed and radicalised, melt their brass for bullets.
* * *
May will turn its head to the fields. May will turn its head to the fields and groan. Again.
* * *
Summer isn’t coming in anymore, it never really was. Barleycorn has clods ploughed upon his head, but he’ll never grow again.
* * *
Look to a memory of what never was for a soft foundation. And if the sun never sets, then you never sleep, then you’re next to nothing. ‘How we’re always been is how it’s going to stay’, with our arms left folded. The threat to storm a barricade that doesn’t exist leaves The Sun half frozen.
* * *
May will turn its head to the fields. May will turn its head to the fields and groan ‘there has to be more we can do’.
* * *
Summer isn’t coming in anymore, it never really was. Barleycorn has clods ploughed upon his head, but he’ll never grow now. ‘There came three men out from the west’ but their victory was already tried before. The maypole has been splintered and its frayed, the ribbon’s torn again.
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6. |
Things Change
03:29
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In only and hour
this too will be over
and that wrings the power
from everything
in equal measure
everything that everyone does
is a waste of time
by someone's measure
soothed by each and every phone call
drift towards horizon lines, a skill that takes a lifetime
in your tight-knit coat you're bullet-proof
tides that melt the tallest mountains I would climb
all is sand, all is gold
with a cut/ I am set/ one and three
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The Palps Newcastle Upon Tyne, UK
[Good, wholesome, ethical music for fans of intellectual lo-fi prog
rock.]
The Palps' music has been described as "quietly monumental" and "cinematic", and at other times redolent of Sabbath and Sonic Youth.
... more
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