Click on the album on the left to access its lyrics.
Below are some lyrics to some of the new songs on the album "Casual Killing".
Casual Killing
A little piece
Of hell on earth,
A place to give
The widest berth.
You want out?
What's it worth?
On Fridays, we lose the ties, not the gloves.
We make a casual killing.
The saddest richest men youll meet:
Crumpled drafts of misery.
The big deals
Cut your teeth.
On Fridays all of us mount the bar
To get us drunk and in a car.
No one could feel good about this.
A plague on both of your houses.
Tighten your associations articles of
a loose change.
The project code-named Golden-eye
Fell apart. We cant say why.
If we told, you would die.
Tunnel vision
Hohohohohohohohoho.
You think youve dug yourself?
Youve got to be kidding.
The skin is hardly scratched
So keep on digging.
You dont know who you are
But you know what I must be:
A little law lord (haw-haw)
Well heres the reality:
Failed musician with no ambition
Just some derision for tunnel vision.
Keep shaking your head -
Maybe itll fall off.
What a weight on your shoulders!
Go on, get it all off.
Bring up how you were brought up
And how you brought up your kids
And the punishments you thought up:
Strict designs to restrict.
No provision for other visions
Hidden derision for our decisions
Try to keep your face on while I fess up
Well never make up. Ill never dress up.
Ill never be what you want.
Ill never fit the clothes
Ill always fall just short.
Thats how the job-search goes.
Hohohohohohohoho
baby steps
Lets take baby steps.
Lets not unleash the world on you just yet.
Innocence never felt so blue:
A clean heart, a blank page
you.
You take the babys breath
Right out of me the world on you projects.
Innocence never felt so blue.
A clean slate, a blank page
you.
(The Lord is my shepherd I have everything I need Even if I go through the deepness darkness)
I thought I heard the phone ring,
Gently rattling in its cradle.
It could have been anything
Could have come from a turntable
Let's take baby steps
Right out of me
The world on you projects.
Poor, mean man
Hes so mean he cant give to himself.
Fantasies of his personal worth
I want to laugh out loud
(But I'm crying)
The sickness is infectious.
The first of the next
Stocks and stacks and cracks up
On the internet.
The poor, poor man,
Talking like his dad.
He thinks his bloods gone bad
The poor, poor man
These days, he lives a story
That he wrote himself.
Its a family story
Lived by no one else.
Eggshells,
We are on eggshells.
We dont worry
In case he gets angry.
What you have become doesnt become you.
No one understands what youve become.
The damage youve done will have undone you
By the time we understand what you have done.
You poor, poor man,
Talking like youre mad.
You think your bloods gone bad
You poor, poor man.
Voodoo
Sometimes its like voodoo.
Mostly its just slog.
One time it was melody
Taped to a captains log.
Twice I did it his way,
Once I flew by night.
Its time to throw-away
To get it right.
Heres where I put myself down
Hope it runs when it hits the ground.
A straight line goes round and round
In the room of hollow sound.
Feels like the groove is slamming
Ten times harder then their doors.
Dont you know? Theyre just as stupid
As you give them credit for.
Each day the ceiling gets closer to the floor.
And I throw away my energy on an un-winnable war.
Heres where I let myself down
Get into the ground.
This game goes round and round.
Its a room of hollow sound.
Here, want some new intellectual property?
Where do I sign?
Lets play monopoly.
Lets follow the dotted line to poverty.
Oh, I know this game and I cant play it properly.
I had chipped away at the writeres block
It was time to suck some SONY cock
But the ego hadnt landed - his door was locked.
So I took a piss in the parking lot.
Heres why could bring you down
With me to the underground
But youll never come around.
To the room of hollow sound.
Sexlife
This whole beds a wet-spot. I cant sit down.
Babe, who was the dufus in the dressing gown?
And as for the three-breasted woman -
I thought she would never run out of milk!
Strange! I dont recall this
As a water bed.
Sexlife.
So baby, whose hands did it for you?
Who had you go down?
Whose mouth could never bore you?
Im going to have to press you for an answer
Sexlife.
You know Id put a stop to this, but my hands are tied.
I dont think Im up for this sleazy ride.
Two is still good company.
But three is not a crowd.
And out new favourite number:
Get off your feet, babe,
Four on the floor!
Oh god!
Sexlife!
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