1. |
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The Ballad Of K69996 Roma
Oh igneous father
Here I lie
Embroidered in fire
Ten lives high
Smoke hangs in question marks
Torn from Petrolio
Pages like ravens
Scented with gasoline
Wrung from your form
And its cravings and its rages
White leather singeing and
Searing; glass breaking;
All blackened is my gearing
November 2nd, 1975
The last time anyone ever saw you alive.
A prayer to my mother
Here I waste
Shrouded in fire
Sore and debased
Study now closely
The acts of Pelosi -
Confession commissioned.
A twice paid-for youth,
Bought for two different truths
One fusion, one fission
At my worst I’m a hearse
A stoic silver curse
An enabler wading in sleep.
Via Sant Igino Papa
Here I sleep
Enamelled in history,
Ten lives deep.
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2. |
We Darken Horses
03:46
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We Darken Horses
A necessity
A candle woven in water
A base rate
A discharge
A gentleman’s agreement
A bird of paradise
A foxtrot
A study in carnage
A broken nightmare jammed on repeat
A furtive signal
In the shadow of a stabbing
Asserting virtue
A message from our sponsor
I before U except after he
A premature ejaculation at Orly terminal 5
Sortie
Ausgang
At night you smile like a desert
Rubber bands in your mouth
Playing your platitudes like a jews harp
We darken horses
In our time which is free
A furtive virtue
Never hurt you
Behind the bike sheds
Of Orly
Terminal 5
Could we just slowly erode in this configuration?
A broken nightmare jammed on repeat
I before you.
I am a citizen of death.
And as I blank you in life
Caught between pages of a grimoire thick with design.
A place of infidelity and light
A blood sport, a necessity
A candle woven in water
A bird of paradise, a foxtrot
A study in carnage
We darken horses
In our time which is free
A furtive virtue
Never hurt you
Behind the bike sheds
Of Orly
Terminal 5
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3. |
You Eat With Your Eyes
03:13
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4. |
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5. |
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6. |
A Congregation Of One
03:16
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7. |
Asymmetric: A Forgery
03:11
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Asymmetric: A Forgery
I will rest in your lap until the fires run dry
Until the rain collapses in a heap
Until the grasses flower with black bands
And the skies are succulent with snakes
And your arrows take the form of driftwood
Until your inner peace is assured.
You will wake and I’ll be dead.
When sugar ices my bones I will satellite
As an allergen, an ever-present afterthought.
Flour on your lapel, pollen on your breath,
A stain on your wedding ring,
A typo in your mortgage deeds,
Your pet virus substantiating forgery,
You will wake and I’ll be dead.
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8. |
The Florist
02:30
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The Florist
I walked aimlessly, my spirit darkened,
Fatigued inside and out.
I came across a flower shop.
My soul's disquiet stood out.
My malaise it was suspended
As I marveled in alarm
At the variegated elegance
Of Nature's present forms.
So I burned the shop down
With me in it
And in the form of ash
I became so indistinct
From the beauty that I had dashed.
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Nick Hudson Tbilisi, Georgia
Nick Hudson is a UK-born, Tbilisi-based composer/artist/image-maker/activist..
In April 2021
Nick released his first solo album in five years - Font Of Human Fractures - to glowing reviews from The Quietus and Libération.
"There isn’t really anyone making music like Nick Hudson” - The Quietus
“Genius” - BBC Introducing
“Scott Walker channeling Coil” - Mojo
www.theacademyofsun.com
... more
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