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Buy and Keep ($5)
Recorded 2024. Mixed and Mastered 2025.
All words and music written by Andy Doran. Special thanks to Warren Van Wky on drums.
Something Always Gets You in the End
Decorate this abandoned ship with brass bands and a stiff upper lip. For when the sadists, they come aboard, we’ll revel in one more chance to be ignored. Another airport, a carousel. Will all the baggage follow us to hell? The skeletons are making some noise. Will they be still or will they be redeployed? Oh let us not pretend. Something always gets you in the end. Oh why do you never phone me? Well because in the next world we might not be friends. Oh why, why did you disown me? Well because something really bad always gets you in the end. Under the table I spilled my guts and my trusty friend interrupts the waiter. “Oh can’t you see I’m serving somebody? Go down the road there’s a cheap defibrilator”.
Anchored to the West
Had a little bit of kilig and wonder. Made a mess of my yearning taboos. Had a little bit too much idolizing. You’ve got me running on vapors and dew. Your ship sails easterly and your love may manifest. But my arms are stretched a hundred miles. Anchored to the west. Had a little bit of wild worry lately. Played a little too many guessing games. But all the imps and demons that surround me will disappear when you’re mumblingmy name. Your ship sails easterly and your love may manifest. But my arms are stretched a hundred miles. Anchored to the west. I found a love for a mind of fragmention. I found the wonder in the wabi sabi way. I found the wonder right inside your wisdom. And now I need to wonder it away.
Sweet FA
Got my delivery of ripped up rationed ideology today. It’s really reads like a doctor’s note saying I’m too sick to pay. You tell a lie like a modern day lobbied up regulator pawn. I don’t know why but I think it’s just an issue with your mitochondrion. Ah you give me sweet FA. You jokers. Ah you give me sweet FA. You’re so mediocre. Slowly erasing all the humanist base and all that common sense. The poker face of the human race should be a capital offence. Looking away from an ugly violation that is right before your eyes. You cherry pick another verse to pull another excuse out from the sky.
Self Made Lunar Module
You said you bought your ticket to the moon. I thought you never used public transport. Our small talk grows. With every single line, I come this close. You said that you could smuggle me in too. I said I’ve built my own lunar module. Our small talk grows. With every passing day, I come this close. Our small talk grows. With every single line, I come this close. Show me your sign and I promise I’ll show you mine. There’s no time, like the last day of our lives. Lift off slowly and climb. Why should we stop at the sky when that view awaits from my lunar module? My self made lunar module. But now you say you’ve got to leave my space. The module just blew up in my face. Our small talk shrinks. And just as well my pen’s all out of ink. You never showed me your sign and I never did show you mine. Out of time, like the last day of our lives. I fall slowly to earth but you know for what it’s worth, I’m building another self made lunar module. Orbiting rescheduled. Looking at the world view from my imaginary module. I’ll be looking at the world view from my self made lunar module.
Just a Bit of Broken Glass
You don’t want to be here, reading back your reverence. Knowing she was writing strategies of severence. Handed her the scope to look inside your lucid heart. You didn’t think she’d use it to shoot your crystalline apart. Handed out so much transparency. You saw mirrors of introspection therapy. So you give up and you’ll give her all she asks. You think you’ll nail all your colours to your mast. You write your unconditional surrender. But it’s ok, it’s just a bit of broken glass. You don’t want to reflect on what you should have said instead. Knowing she would burst those bubbles from the fountainhead. Handed out so much transparency. You saw mirrors of introspection therapy. You see a biblical scene, you see a broken machine, you see a smashed up display, a meltdown in the house of wax. But it’s ok, it’s just a bit of broken glass.
Kinder Words
Cursing the sun at the daybreak. Cursing the sky at the snowflake. And I’m walking into the desert, fair game. I find the wrongs in the righteous. I made the venom in the virus. And I’m walking into the ocean, fair game. I fall into the water and there’s something unforseen. The shimmering reflection isn’t me. The river of forebears flows from the underworld to wash me away from the soul saboteurs. It’s taking me somewhere to find the kinder words. I know that I’ll find them. I know they’re out there. Somewhere. She walks a road for only her. The road I walk is lonelier. And it’s leading me to the landslide, fair game. I found a river in the woodland. Sternly delivers my reprimand through the voices of my forbears in pain. I fall into the water and there’s something unforseen
The shimmering reflection isn’t me. It’s my father, my mother, a long lost brother and all those once alive. It’s the drunk that couldn’t revive. It’s that god damned dog from 1865.
The Lure of L’Immortelle
Call it fascination on an empty train. The ghosts that I’m chasing have disappeared again. When I light the candles at midnight, you melt in the flame. When I sit alone in the dark then you’re back in the frame. You’re driving me right wound the bend. I’m just a passenger in your car. Will our final journey’s end show me who you are? If you want me to disappear, I’d like to say that I’d drive out of here. But I’m falling for your faith and I’m underneath your spell. And it seems that I just can’t escape the lure of L’Immortelle. Is it everlasting? or like the nordic nights, undying veils of darkness, looking for the light?
Licensed to Live Again
No more legal status as we search the court for the evidence of masquerades. No more strong allegiance in a culture war we made. Paperless and godless, I’m no citizen, but I’ve a license to live again. No more need to pander to the national debt. No more need to find the tax to pay for the lazy liars to just piss it all away. No expectations of us from today. No noise pollution from the failures of late. Just you and me at the end of the world. You, me and our friends with a license to live again. No more obligations to participate in a world that I don’t recognise. A sham glorification of a world that I’ve grown to despise.
Rustic Mutineers
Our little lord of majestic things, reads out a rule to command the thinking of all the rustic mutineers, assembled here. To urgently disperse themselves and quietly depart this space now, back to their humble residence. No hesitance. History will repeat itself. Here comes an even greater rising. History will repeat itself again. God save your king. God save your dough. God save your religion if that’s all that you know. Upon the pains contained below, this document made eons ago, to pacify the angry mob and their grubby gobs. Resurrects the riot act with all the skill of an armless juggler. For all the mutant rustic ears assembled here.
Ocean Blue
Send my love to the sea because I don’t see the ship that was carrying you back to me. No no I don’t see the smoke signalling my hope and reverie. Every sunset gifting me a painting of my patience. Painting you so close to me. A mask of desperation because you’re so far from me. Another look into the blue, far beyond the ocean. I’m still waiting for you. Another ship is overdue and I reach for the potion. I’m still waiting for you. I wonder what you’re thinking, and I wonder what you see, and I wonder if the water is well above your knees. In an angry howling sea, you mean so much to me. Another look into the bluem far beyond the ocean. I’m still waiting for you. Another ship is overdue and I reach for the potion. I’m still waiting for you. Another sun comes into view, warming up the ocean. I’m still waiting for you. A thousand eyes look the other way, another ship fades out of view, and I’m still waiting for you.