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We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

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by Tuscany

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1.
Father Chaos 08:51
Salmonpink the skies As I wake and hold my breath – Lying next to you, Your heaving sleepy chest. I’ve sensed the drift of souls Despite all that we made – Zero into one – Though two together fade. We’ll give each other our hands. On Dollymount we’ll find Old forgotten feelings And maybe mollify – We turned our hearts to stone – My flesh now feels like bark – Moments from a dream Of trains in the dark. But what was once is now again Here comes the sun here comes the yes Off to the butcher’s feeling wee Are nothing more than little guests... I want but wouldn’t like An order to this place. I’ll work up from the roots Up to your valleyed face, I’ll sleep down by your feet, I’ll cook your every meal, I’ll lick your every wound, Though this one might not heal. Our sun is feeling sad – His favourite songs are lies. Something’s rotten here – We’re losing paradise. Oh how I will miss you And sucking at your breast – Sheets too neat and clean But chaos in my head. Oh sing to me of all the things That change their form and shape to bless Us with this life as it all swings Inevitably to a YES
2.
By Jove 03:51
Taking a good thorough swig of his nutty ale, Nigel Farage looks out over the British Empire – He’s just finished overseeing the committee room being decked out to look like a Greek temple – As far as he can tell, life is pretty good; he has a view like no one else in the country. He closes his eyes and sees himself as John Bull Jovey, raping a nymph; now she’s a cow: Europa. He wants to see us all turn into braying animals before he fully gets down to fucking us. By Jove we’re fucked it’s a movement alright By Jove we’re fucked By Jove. PCs going mad across the country stomping on filthy leftie scumbags and their fake issues, Only people who are right on Question Time, a purple and yellow Union Flag for every family, A free metamorphosis into a honking beast of burden as the very last thing the NHS ever does, And an end to erectile dysfunction; all of these plus bigotry in our manifesto only £5. We won’t disappoint unlike literally every other figurehead in history from Jupiter on down. By Jove we’re fucked then we turn to dust By Jove we’re fucked By Jove.
3.
Echo 08:30
The gods speak the language of flowers – So no one can hear. His starved body was never found, Just a daffodil blooming all year. He spoke the language of flowers – So no one could hear The petals flattened against the page, The secrets silent but clear. How strange what echoes. Oh dream how sweet too sweet too bitter sweet How sweet too sweet too bitter sweet Come in the speaking silence of this dream Come in the speaking silence oh this Life in the flower the flower the power Dream how sweet too sweet too bitter sweet How sweet too sweet too bitter sweet A flower underwater languid languid Come in my dreams that I may live My life again though cold in death She drowned in a pool ringed with flowers – And no one could hear – Serene in such a gentle stream Another beautiful death. How strange what echoes.
4.
Supermantra 08:17
Who would be a hero?
5.
Disgraced 01:30
...conlecti flores tunicis cecidere remissis tantaque simplicitas puerilibus adfuit annis haec quoque virgineum movit iactura dolorem...
6.
No flies in your ointment; All stuck in your web. Time to call those threads that you weave Arachnid politics. Let me give an example That happened to me, The sample supreme of Spideology: Eight eyes looking down while Eight legs kick at me: Four big party leaders –– ‘Arachnid politics’. Spindly fingers In all the pies In all our ears So we think your words are wise: Life’s great Tapestry Cobwebbed By your sophistry. Who am I to speak up? To offer my voice? One poor little fly Does not have a choice. I know my place. I’m just the prey – I don’t need to do things, I’ll be OK, We can’t change the country, Let’s change the subject: No attempt must be made To see the web connect.
7.
My Dear 04:28
Now the night draws in I think of turning young: Backwards flowing rivers Uprooting ancient trees from the source. This was an ordinary day: Trying to summon the dead, Incantations and potions, Everything boiling over in my head. You’ve done so much for me, my dear, By just existing as you are, But my heart’s ablaze with new ideas. My dear, I’ve taken it too far. I’d worked my magic on you Back when we started fires, Thought I’d nothing to lose Trying to conjure up an eternal youth. You’ve done so much for me, my dear, By just existing as you are, But my heart’s ablaze with new ideas. My dear, I’ve taken it too far.
8.
A rude awakening – I think he knows the rites. A usurper to the throne. He knows I’m not alright –– And I thought that I was making a lot of sense When I talked about just flying past all those nets And I was just about to drop my ornate pretense But I am trapped in my own maze, in my own deep regrets: She wished that I would feel, That I would feel before her death (My inventions are my traps –– I only worship what’s in my head, And I built a golden idol to Art and Science And my new philosophy could’ve started riots And though my heart had disappeared I was sparking minds Now I wish that in the end I had never even tried).
9.
Resin oozes from the bark; So my pining tears break loose. Lava bursts up through the cracks; So my flaming heart's abused. Run til I die, Til I stop the pain, The pain of being Refused. Somebody else will have you now –– Somebody else bought their bliss. My impulse tells me just the truth: There's no purer love than this. Root to this spot, Cry in my sleep, And spring an eternal River. It would feel so wrong to have you, But thoughts connect when you're around And you're always in my eyeline. Makes me think the investment's sound. I only have thoughts Of you in my arms; We know that lacks are no Presents.
10.
Orpheus 06:14
Co-ome, co-ome thou lost one come And listen to my song And flow your tears of molten bronze To words of gold: In lakes of fire I found my love In blazing lava boiling up –– Held out my hand to little use, All heaeaeavy with jealous juice. Song to the siren Down to the wire and Played her like a lyre, O love's sweet song: I went in the ground beneath my house And found my mind in a cage down there; I ran outside all sick with fear And turned to stone as I hit the air. Co-ome thou lost one All fears go in the underworld
11.
Cupcake fascists on the run – Better keep calm and carry on Sculpting pink lambs from plasticine Baking pies with a picture of the queen. Oh England! Mediocre and pristine, Taking tiny dogs For walks on her mountains green. Now let’s all watch this reality show Friday nights on Channel 4: Fat immigrants on benefits Sipping bin juice through silly straws. We lead comfortable lives, That’s easy enough to see, But it all makes me sad. Now what does that say about me? Normality’s no formality – We want quiet lives; no conflict – But diagnosed with firstworld vanity We cure it with a click. Suffocation aesthetics, The art of the terminally repressed, CathKidstonstyle tumours On Britannia’s beleaguered breast: There’s no sincerity In a cute meerkat’s whimpering face – Yeah, we get it You like pastel colours and things in their place. I wish I could have that simple joy From a picture of a yawning dog That I’m not so easily annoyed A grouchy slouching frog
12.
[wordless]
13.
The Odyssey 04:07
I could talk about myself again But even I don't think I make sense. Makes me think I should step outside, If I really can. My big mouth and my silly ideas, A body of text soon to disappear –– Makes you wonder if it's worth it at all To even say a thing, Makes you wonder how it feels to die well. Can I get in to heaven after all?
14.
Patria Drone 04:06
At night the fires are burning in the eyes of the buildings And the moths are out looking for a good time. They said in a bygone age, "We'll build A place of learning on the water there." "And it will rejuvenate the city centre Which is fat with American tourists," they said. But the moths started eating at the fabric of polite society Here and there, hither and thither, Cheesy chips in a limegreen puddle In front of the shops with all their angles In a line with the clubs and their bubs at their back. Now they're wobbling down Coney Street With a bottle of vodka juggled between them in their brains. The shadow man's at the bank. He's in the door. And he saw the fall of Rome. But who would have had the heart to tell the Trojan traveller What his little baby would unravel? What words should have built his city?
15.
Yes 1. Hoy son los manos la memoria. El alma no se acuerda, está dolida de tanto recordar. Pero en las manos queda el recuerdo de lo que han tenido. 2. morte carent verbae; semperque, priore relicta sede, novis domibus vivunt, habitamque receptae. 3. Every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make.

about

15 songs. Comes with an odd explanatory PDF file.

credits

released October 14, 2015

All songs Tuscany.
Samples: Track 2 - if i am by My Bloody Valentine, Track 15 - Flower by Deerhoof.

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Tuscany Liverpool, UK

From Liverpool. Weapons of choice are keyboard, guitar, vocals, programmed drums.

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