lyrics

LOCKDOWN SIEBEN – VOLUME 1 –  ALL LYRICS

 

The Sun
The lines of power withdrawn, the night page white
to notch what we are in dot to dot of star.
Facing to the sun, end where we’ve begun,
the light stone white we ogham score ratchet the returning sun.
The sun divine sprang a single word, the sun divine to light our way.
From gort the rays down to the suckle ailm leaf,
from the fern sail root dair the rising shoot.
From saile grazed beast to colled for the feast,
from the belly to the voice to the sky we implore.
The sun divine sprang a single word, the sun divine to light our way.

 

Enzosonbenzos
Enzosonbenzos, our small-town Italian boy, off his head.
All-out broke, out of hope in Poor Town, England.
Enzosonbenzos, or the world turned inside down and out?
Milk-turned-sour happy-hour in downtown Moor Town.
Enzosonbenzos, who only wants what none here have?
Bleak horizons beached in sunk-down Port Town.
Enzosonbenzos, or a new nastiness hit the streets?
Milk-turned-sour happy-hour. Milk-turned-sour happy-hour.
Enzosonbenzos, our small-town Italian boy has scrawled
“send them back” on Poor Town wall.

 

Virgin in the green

By virgin in the green she took me, down by the banks of celandine. We fucked and wore the summer in, we rolled and wore the summer out. Made love a mist to hide in, made lust a drink to drown in. Made both a shirt to wear and discard.

 

We talked musk mallow birdsong, loosestrife violet joy. The dodder-drained sun. Spurge  the cut-grass whimpers. The creeping yellow cress sun. Summer’s here and now.

 

By virgin in the green the foxglove blush, sticky-grass hair snagging summer scent. We fucked and reeled the summer in. We rolled and wore the summer out. And sang:

 

I the babbling meadowsweet stream, she the scented campion fields. I to cup the buttercup moon, she to wear a daisy-chain of stars.

 

Sleep, Clara Bow
Under Prospect Heights, under-prospect lived, we struggled up for life.
Flex-tight whip-chord wired, with a spark of divine fire.
So, sleep, Clara, sleep. Untouched, sleeping sound.
To outshine Nature in a poisoned Paradise.
Shaped-tight, pleasure-wired, with a spark of divine fire.
So, sleep, Clara, sleep. Untouched, sleeping sound.
Sleep, Clara, sleep in a silver screen eiderdown.
Sleep, Clara, sleep. Sleep, Clara, sleep.
In nowhere’s faceless sullen suburb, face a dusty screen.
In harm’s dead-end lonely headlock, sleep’s golden silent dream.

 

A Firebug Nature
We fashion our wings
as fire-fascination.
We fashion our wings
over the sea,
smack-front of the black, facing void.
Smack-front of the black, facing void.

On Icarus wings.
On Icarus wings.

Fire above.
Sea below.
Feathers and wax.

A spark could take us down,
deviation-swallow drown.
A firebug nature lift-melt us,
or heart-sinking normalcy?
Our firebug nature.

 

Black Moon, Rise Again

Black moon, rise again.

Black moon, rise again.

 

Coldbloods
Who let the hawks hang the higher ground? Who led the crows to circle round? Starting to feel a little nervous now. Don’t let them near the switch, hey! Who let the vipers take a hold? A slither of lies that became a road. Can’t just be me that’s starting to feel a little nervous now. Who let the primal shape control? Who let instinct steer the wheel? Can’t just be me that’s starting to feel a little nervous now. Don’t let the coldbloods take the stage. Who let the reptiles free their cage? Who let them loose on the modern age? Can’t just be me that’s starting to feel a little nervous now.

 

Ogham The Blood
Blazon our field of gules, losers fell as fruit from the ash.
Proper in red we rampant perennial while sabling death per fess a sinister hand.

Ogham the blood, ogham the line, our cult of the fallen will triumph over time.
Brazen our or over vert, ogham gash chevron emblem flesh.
We gang to forge eternity, slash our mark to stave off death.
Ogham the blood, ogham the line, our cult of the fallen will triumph over time.

 

Kickstart The Empire
Give me new old days. Those heady, Summer old ways.
Gilded history and gold rays. People knew their place.
Come on, let’s do The Idiot Test…
Kickstart the Empire! Come on all you good people out there.
Kickstart the Empire! What’s wrong with all you damn people down there?
Heave those mighty oars! We can row this land to brave new shores.
Heave those mighty oars! We can make ‘then’ now great again.
Kickstart the Empire! We all need a good plunder now and then.
Kickstart the Empire! Free the chains of reality.
Kickstart the Empire!

 

LOCKDOWN SIEBEN – VOLUME 2 –  ALL LYRICS

 

Millennia
He had slept for a thousand years;
the world rolled on its axis,
oiled by blood and tears.
His cloak a thousand seasons brown;
that face a thousand winters, summers gone.

He kept faith in high broad prayers;
firmed and reaffirmed, moss, root, leaves layered.
Mulched deep in the mound, a seed for my ground;
That icy face ten thousand winters bound.

He cut his teeth on gritstone moor;
rode the rough seasons, stored faith in the soil.
His cloak a thousand seasons brown;
that face a thousand winters, summers gone.

He had slept for a thousand years;
warmed the world burns frozen in greed.
His cloak a thousand seasons brown;
that icy face a thousand winters called to arms—
Called to arms! Called to arms!

 

Ogham Inside The Night
The trees said grian and grain,
the moor replied the ploye and pain.
Harness to field, whittle season straf.
The trees said a sea of nectar,
the moor replied coll fuel for lust.
Score melody woven spell,
plough tundra and hail root.
Ogham in the arm, still prisoner of our flesh.
sun divine guide our hand, who referees the maul?
Overwrite the mess of stars, end where we begun,
answer ciphered in star, question riddled in cycle.
The trees said “forge new bluebell words”.
The moor replied “a bay of dew our mark”.
The trees said “find new words for our rough tongue”.
The moor replied “eite thuathail, the final score”.
quert–muin–huath

 

Here is the News
Here is the news from the BBC. Here is the news from me. Warning! Some viewers may find the next scene disturbing: In world news two disturbingly stereotypical psychopaths are working tirelessly to bring back The Cold War, bring back the 80’s. People are said to be hunkering down taking dislike to people based on arbitrary lines drawn on maps. To bring back those old wars, roll back the good times. Here is the news from the BBC. Here is the news from me. Experts predict the ‘power grab and blame’ trick will work a treat, we’re all fucked, we’re all doomed, we should eat each other. Bring back the Great War, it sure was a great war.

 

Old Magic
Traust me, scamt land, we are the same:
Heathen and fylde, bleikr and fok. We are the same.
Raise, whirl, unfurl the old magic!
Reisa, whirl, unfurl the old magic words.
Trade knot, skamt land, we are the same:
Heathen, dregg, myrr, drit and rogg. We are the same.
Raise, whirl, unfurl the old magic!
Reisa, whirl, unfurl the old magic words.

 

Easy Prey
I’d just as soon warm my balls by a burning church as by the gates of Hell. I’m not complaining: The churchyard’s fair enough to catch a rat or two.
Easy prey to maul the weak, hunt the tame, just for fun I’ll take the lame.
That old bastard Loxley said, “God will provide” but wasn’t there to do the hunting down.
At least he had a hellfire God: Keen to smite, quick to pounce, black and white and eye-for-eye!
I’m not complaining: Tooth-for-tooth better than the twat that claims to own me now. Easy prey, looks to heaven, sees no sky, his shiftless God, his half-a-job. That old bastard, his mealy test, sits impotent and the world falls to ruin. That old bastard, who let there be light kicked us out to bitter dark unknown of night. Easy prey, live for now, fuck how- repent-saved-die-leave the mess behind.
At least he had a hellfire God: Keen to smite, quick to pounce, black and white and eye-for-eye!

 

Who Whips
Who whips this world? The basic snatch reaction,
our worst nature sanctioned. Who whips this world?
Who whips this world? The twisted truth in action,
simple lies to catch them. Who whips this world?
Who whips this world? The nasty bastard faction,
not a law to dash them. Who whips this world?
Who whips this world? Bauble greed and teeming,
rival primal dealing. Who whips this world?
Who whips this world? The I’m-alright-Jack chancer,
fuck-the-rest advancer. Who whips this world?
The world will fall to bits. The world is going to shit.
We just stand and watch it happen.

 

Jigsaw Chainsaw
True, I only wrestle women, but I wrestle women that are a lot bigger and stronger than you. You might be twice as big as me but I’ve wrestled women that are twice as big as me and I’ve mopped the floor with them!
Let’s keep it down, a long way to go.
You want to see him? You’d better dig him up.
Jigsaw. Chainsaw!
Spies in the wall, televising all.
You want to see him? We’d better hook him up.
Jigsaw. Chainsaw!
You want the record? You want to be him?
You want to see him? He’s gonna rip you up.
Jigsaw. Chainsaw!
A fakir, a wrestler, song dance man turned devious shaker.

 

We Wait for Them
Our bodies forged.
Steel muscles locked.
Head to head.
Our emotions blocked.
All nerves taut.
Our eyes transfixed.
Hand to hand.
To the end.
They will come – we wait for them.
They will come – we wait for them.

 

Come and Ride in the Cult Of Light
Look, I’m no airy visionary, no twisted-truth Koresh,
not vaguely Nostradamic, anyone with eyes to see
can see the world’s a total fucking mess.
So, come, let’s ride, stare the cult conviction.
Dance of Death ray disco, gawp at the light ‘til we see

End Of Times as Science Fiction.
Bile drips from the Daily Vent,
governments for wholesale now, not just rent.
Greed slop-feeds the tight-lipped,
troughing, complicit, as the earth is stripped.
New Armageddon-breed plastic dictators ,
the world forgot so soon. Light, take us!
Sun Divine, wipe us out – and start again.
Goodnight, Kev!

 

LOCKDOWN SIEBEN – VOLUME 3 –  ALL LYRICS

 

Hillfort Mindset

Bring hate, bring nails, wrapped round a horse’s tail.

Bring wood, let bark, our huddled band in slatted dark.

Bring carnyx, and shattered sound, a vain hope to gain the higher ground.

Bring forth fear, pure blind zeal, against a world of tempered steel.

A hillfort mindset will prevail, if we close our world the magic fails.

 

I Saw a Face

I saw a face in a cloud.

I saw a mouth in the sky.

 

The Spirit

The power centre of the world,

crossworded in star riddled with night.

leylined in leaf has dominion in root,

leylined in leaf has dominion in root,

spark gouged in flesh.

we templum centre our world,

engraved with hope doubt lame we cling.

Limmet nion to rock and stream,

harnessed to the field whittled by straif season,

harnessed to the field whittled by straif season,

harnessed to the field whittled by straf season,

fuel for the spark.

The power centre of the world,

lights our eyes stokes the flame charms the wood,

licks the spirit that fuels the world

is hacked in the soul emblazoned on the sun,

hacked in the soul emblazoned on the sun,

hacked in the soul emblazoned on the sun,

is harvest in the word.

 

Vonnegut

“Those who believe in tele-kinetics, raise my hand!”

 

As close to the edge as he could without going over

We are what we pretend to be

Out on the edge you see things you can’t see from the centre

Careful what we pretend to be

So sharp, warm, smart and human

A word can pin a star to a night

So warm, sharp and beautiful

A heart can fill a sky

Able to love and be loved and simply love living

We are what we aim to be

Our flaws, needs and guts spilled out to find the absurd heart

Careful what we aim to see

So sharp, warm, smart and human

A word can pin a star to a night

So warm, sharp and beautiful

A heart can fill a sky

 

Second Witchwords

Ab eb ib ob be bo bi ba

ab tells the heap’s thigh black boulder muscled

whose flex is seasons

eb tells the vault’s tears whose fall from no face

speaks heaven’s absence

ib tells blood whose curdle at the sun’s bandage

grows the bones’ wound

ob tells the heap’s eye whose always staring

forbids the sun’s escape

bu tells the heap’s thought, whose substance no substance

whose icon is wind

be tells the bones’ hydraulic palace and prison

whose prism is pain

bo tells night’s ball, earth’s soul, whose silver scar in void

is skin’s lost search

ba tells the cipher name, whose wound and sound

unsayable fuels the stars

 

 

Love Must Wax Cold

The rain falls from heaven’s face, dight for the night.

Across the fields, the unlit church. Love must wax cold.

On distant hills their torchlines gleed. What rough beast of Bethlehem spurned?

A thousand years since last I died. Love must wax cold.

Then the Order’s even tenor rent by their transgressions.

Millennial flames belched from heaven’s face, to cast off an old age.

Their flocks from Salvation lost. Man, root and branch did fall into ruin.

The very world had shaken herself to cast off an old age.

And a thousand more since His crown of thorns joined the affray.

His end, nailed on a high broad field—Prepare for the night.

Lucifer fell to earth on a wave of fire; love must wax cold.

Spewed from the earth was I. Prepare for the night.

 

Berylsinperil

The elderly have taken control

of the old folk’s home. Berylsinperil.

The new elite plan to crank up the heat,

as there’s no tomorrow. Berylsinperil.

This crusted gem, this sceptred nan,

fetid air and mouldering flan. Berylsinperil.

Faith and hope the new logic here.

Grab a blanket, grab a beer. Berylsinperil.

 

Ready For Rebellion

Burn in the blood, burn in the vein.

Burn in our copper heart, grip the harness rein.

Ready for rebellion. Get ready for rebellion!

Sear in the mind, sear in the brain.

Sear in our iron spleen, steel our solid frame.

Ready for rebellion. Get ready for rebellion!

 

You Want Some? You Want Some?Want some? You want some? Everything must go! Despite a Boaty Mc vote race, the overlords still sit in place. The Great British cake-off , the ‘fuck your own face off’. Everything must go. The new rules are a cinch, ignore the small print, do not flinch. They really just want zero contact, here’s a brand new zero contract. Everything must go. Let’s play a game; Deal, No Deal, no, no, no deal, deal, deal, deal. Can you hear the trumpets call? Crumbs from a rich man’s table, a little bit of Britain, while you’re able. Not much left, its dirt and fluff, come on down, get the good stuff. Everything must go.

LOCKDOWN SIEBEN – VOLUME 4 –  ALL LYRICS

 

Spring Snowdrop

To drive a swine through the hanks of yarn,

a sybarite on the virgin pall,

winter whitened fields.

We who sleep must now awake,

those who rest we set to work.

Spring thrust it stake through frigid rime,

hoarfrost cluster the snow-line down,

to incite the fields.

We who sleep must now awake,

those who rest we leave behind.

 

 

A High Broad Field

That the seed will shoot and germ

in the season tumble churn.

That we rise and that we yield

to tend a high broad field.

And every flower will bear a fruit.

And every seed will plunge a root.

On this high broad field.

On this high broad field.

His cloak a thousand seasons green,

from a thousand winters freed.

In the flex of seasons bound,

strive to rise, cherish the land.

And every flower will bear a fruit.

And every seed will plunge a root.

On this high broad field.

On this high broad field.

 

Modron

Modron! Modron!

Hunger as lightening, fear as rain.

Laughter as slaughter.

Our song, our joy, our game.

Brace in our hand, harness in the seed.

Trace in our palm, nurture, charm, and feed.

Anger as lightening, tears as rain.

Hereafter as daftness.

Our skill, our craft, our gain.

Brace in our hand, harness in the seed.

Trace in our palm, nurture, charm, and feed.

Crag, fell and moor. Her soil. Life’s will

a mighty grittiness. Celebrate the life.

Black moon, white sun. Our ebb and flow

a honeysuckle bitterness. Celebrate the life.

Of love, of faith. The tension of a bowstring life.

Celebrate the life.

 

Rite for The Unfulfilled

Dan changed the Royal’s projection room reels for forty years. The peril of his job, and the many stairs down to her ticket booth meant they never hit it off.

Apart from the slap in ’68, his first true sign. He’d say “Beryl” passing her on the stairs. He contented himself. He’d decapitate her from brochures.

But his own internal movie remained unaltered; over and over without judder or falter, his Beryl from reception, his Beryl at his alter.

Sat aloft as the film reel flickers, he’d stick her head on girls without knickers. Stuck to a box. Beryl akimbo, Beryl astride, Beryl unspeakable, a Beryl tide.

But his own internal movie remained unaltered; over and over without judder or falter, his Beryl from reception, his Beryl at his alter.

 

Death Tape Updated For 2020

How very much I’ve loved you, how very much I’ve tried.

The just and reasonable demands of righteous people.

Someone’s gonna shot the pilot. I didn’t plan it, but I know it’s going to happen.

Their victories have not been yours, their triumphs not your triumphs.

If you knew what was ahead of you.

Let’s make a beautiful day. Revolutionary; suicide, all is lost.

The likes of which the world has never seen before.

Lay down your life with dignity; don’t lay down with tears.

Their pain is our pain, their dreams are our dreams.

Now arrives the hour of action.

 

The Overlords Are Back

Oh crumbs, oh snap.

Under dirty water, on our back.

The Overlords are back.

Oh crumbs, oh larks.

The world is run by thugs, who’s the mug? The Overlords are back.

Oh crumbs, oh dear.

Planet Earth is due a reset here.

The Overlords are back.

Oh crumbs, oh flip.

Can you hear the Doomsday clock tick?

The Overlords are back

 

Written In Fire

Written in firelight, written in fire.

Our speckled horse

rides a visionary sky.

Our nomad mind

hunts fertile plain.

Written in firelight (we are) written in fire.

Hail horse and bull

calibrate our awe.

Dream-sift the world

Written in firelight (we are) written in fire.

 

Barry The Astonishing

The Astonishing, Ceremonial Master.

Orderer Of The Wood, rooted in the sky.

Channels his inner Estonian,

his will will be clad with wood.

Braced joints will bear great timber,

words will burn for a solid fuel bard.

The Astonishing, Ceremonial Master.

Orderer Of The Wood, rooted in the sky.

“You may freeze in Fell Foot Wood, but you’ll burn in Hell”
(says Barry cheerily).

“Do you like boiled rice?”

 

Missolonghi sky

The world ruptured my innocence

and the pallid English sky.

Here while I sweat the Missolonghi sky.

A sensual abyss. The final sensual abyss.

Plant my heart, a seed to bear a tree

to bear the fruit for the birds that sing for me.

I cut the hair and bled too- possibly,

so let them sing!

Here’s to her who long has waked the poet’s sigh –

The girl who gave to song what gold could never buy.

Here’s to her who arched her back my desk –

The girl who gave to song a tongue, my quill and the rest.

Here’s to her naked truths – I penned them all –

That girl uncovered genius between the sheets of dross

Here’s to her, her lines that made the poet’s sigh.

I’ll wring that obstinate little heart.

 

The Sundolin

The lines of power withdrawn, the night page white

to notch what we are in dot to dot of star.

Facing to the sun, end where we’ve begun,

the light stone white we ogham score ratchet the returning sun.

The sun divine sprang a single word, the sun divine to light our way.

The sun divine sprang a single word, the sun divine to light our way.

From gort the rays down to the suckle ailm leaf,

from the fern sail root dair the rising shoot.

From saile grazed beast to colled for the feast,

from the belly to the voice to the sky we implore.

From fearful night to overwrite the mess of stars,

their spás their empty page hewn to mesh a face,

form driseg fears into fochlac stone and with our entreat

supplant the blank of night.

The sun divine sprang a single word, the sun divine to light our way.

The sun divine sprang a single word, the sun divine to light our way.

 

 

 

 

 

LOCKDOWN SIEBEN – VOLUME 5 –  ALL LYRICS

 

Minack Theatre

All this, all finery, all fade in time.

The stage remains, acts continue,

time crashes its wings.

All this, all finery, all fey will play out.

Nature weighs reward with task,

waves still wreck thrones.

Cut cold stone with a warm heart,

replenish seas with a tear.

Force of will, act of love.

All this, all finery, force of will, act of love.

Our bodies’ costume jewellery.

Ocean-kiss her sweet lines.

Cut cold stone with a warm heart,

replenish seas with a tear.

Force of will, act of love.

 

Barleycorn

His feet, the lilies stoop

to weave a path before him.

His knees, the briar buckles to the ground,

to weave a path before him.

The trees bend to his will.

the stars draw their thick black cloak around him.

His thighs, the husks rub,

the corn to rise before him.

His chest, the barley reaches for the sun,

the corn to rise before him.

The trees bend to his will.

The stars draw their thick black cloak around him.

His head, the Harvest Moon,

Beckons his slaughter.

His head, the seed drops at his feet.

The seed drops at his feet.

 

Oh Yes, there Will be Blood

Oh yes, there will be blood.

Oh yes, there will be blood.

Oh yes, there will be blood.

Oh yes, there will be blood.

 

 

Loki Rides Again

Before the end of days,

Loki will ride

at the Ragnarok,

Naglfar will sail again.

‘Til the end of time, Loki rides again.

‘Til the end of time, Loki rides again.

Father of the wolf,

mother of the whirled,

Embla from the embers,

his blood spewed Ask.

Lies have their cost,

but the Gods they have lost.

‘Til the end of time, Loki rides again.

‘Til the end of time, Loki rides again.

 

Ignore the Apocalypse

I will ignore the apocalypse you play out in my mind.

I will discount the cut-price doomsday

you prep, you enable in my soul.

Emblem a grasping hand,

icon a barren land but

heart trumps hate.

Your face itself is cause enough.

Pig-pin-prick eyes, cheap chancer lies

in fear’s dirty void.

A cugana in our stable.

Comical, self-serving, loathsome,

hate’s toxic spore.

Being human binds us,

being smart will guide us –

A better nature will endure.

Being decent ties us,

speaking out will find us –

A better nature will endure.

 

Floating

He was lying in the road, pointing.

To the party up ahead, a shaky mpeg in the road showing as a modern Holbein of our own: The Driver.

He was lying in the road, over-shadowed.

He was floating in the ether.

He was floating down the road.

We were driving down the road, just chatting.

The driver got out his mobile phone, pointing.

He was lying on the road, bleeding.

He became a passing text that buzzed across the party’s phones and lips, trembling.

He was floating in the ether.

He was floating down the road.

He was floating in the ether.

He was floating down the road.

 

Build You a Song

Build you a song

from star, wood, brick, firmament.

Build you a song

from moon, paper, string and sleep.

From star, wood, brick, firmament.

Pluck you a mood

from gathered early empty streets.

Find you a tune

for poppies broken in the wind.

From star, wood, brick, firmament.

Give a heartbeat

to love that can always live again.

It built me a song

from star, wood, brick, firmament.

From star, wood, brick, firmament.

 

Anubis

My final currency of poor exchange.

My balance or my stance.

My actions or reticence?

Ignorance to compensate?

Or a refund for the wise?

Intolerance to gravitate?

Or hate blind be drawn in kind?

In the end, with darkness won,

close the day, set the sun.

Contract accounts and draw the pay,

to settle the scores all weights are weighed.

Or settle nothing and render terms

subtractions that are left to worms?

 

Peterson’s Seat

Peterson told me when the stamping stops

the cogs will snag the sky will catch and halt,

our clock will stick,

and rattle-shut music die.

Peterson told me of the silence of drips

and the ravage of weeds,

round his lonely seat machinery of green

ratchets its need.

Peterson told me the hum would stop, but it did not.

The cogs still flourish, rattle and shuttle.

The clock still stuck

the hum beneath my feet.

 

Big Kev

Big Kev, big Kev, big Kev- he’s going to fuck you up!

 

LOCKDOWN SIEBEN – VOLUME 6 –  ALL LYRICS

 

We Will Be Alright

So they convinced all us turkeys

to go for our own Christmas surprise.

The keen-eyed chef, kitchen smelling nice.

Harness a slogan, promise the earth,

tub-thump and grain-shake lies.

A hearty laugh is a sharpened knife.

We will be alright. We will be alright.

Feast the corrupt, feed the money-whores.

Kick out your friends, go tear off reason’s door.

Let loose the zombie Brexit hordes.

New opportunity in death and fire.

Rules are for losers, we can sell the sky.

Out-source decency, foresight, and doubt.

We will ride the storm out.

We will be alright. We will be alright.

 

Vision

And so here it begins. The end of us.

A winter to come, to flood with a burning sun.

Furnaced in endless war, our churn and draw of always more.

System pressure of an imploding star.

I saw a thorn line of blasted trees

top the faceless wasteland.

I saw my home.

You saw the end of time but will be mute.

You saw the end of time but will be mute.

In a vision I saw.

And so here it begins. The end of us.

A winter to come, to flood with a burning sun.

Furnaced in endless war, our churn and draw of always more.

System pressure of an imploding star.

 

Knudlustysummer

It been said as dimwits go, Knud rules.

In villages across this land none ranked so high.

The giggling farm girls twirl their clodded curls for him

and knot their pollen hair for him to bring them flowers.

“Go get sheep’s bit and sticky mouse ear”,

but he saw only lady’s mantle, maiden pink.

“Then go for everlasting-pea” (they said with glee)

but he returned with perennial honesty.

“Then buck’s horn, big Knud, and toothed medick” they winked, but the bush vetch and agrimony made him sick .

Knud would kiss them, Knud would squeeze them, raise a beast above his head just to please them.

But they scattered on seeing him return, leaving him bogbean, sow-wort and woodgreen in hand.

 

Donald

On the ocean I floundered,

yet set adrift I evolved.

In my mind I journeyed.

Both boats tacked a similar course.

My foolishness was bundled –

hope stored fore, reality aft.

My desperation, tightly packed.

My world unwrapped.

If I could sail home, and brave the storm,

if I sail home forgive me.

If I could sail home, and brave the storm,

if I sail home forgive me.

For the things I’ve done,

I now have ballast.

For the things I thought I’d done,

an equilibrium of sorts.

If I could sail home, and brave the storm,

if I sail home forgive me.

If I could sail home, and brave the storm,

if I sail home forgive me.

 

The Other Side of The River

On the other side of the river,

the farthest bank from where we are.

Circled in our palm, see the future,

everyone may share what we possess.

In Užupis. In Užupis.

Don’t fight. Don’t win. Don’t surrender.

Circled in our palm, our unimportance.

Circle in a palm, a right to exist.

Circled in our palm, see the future.

Everyone may share what we possess.

 

Nature Reigns

And up to the hills bale ay beeting,

as Abraham God sent.

To take Isaac unto the hills

for his sacrifice to spend.

And he prayed to the hills full sorrowful,

as Abraham bent before God.

That my sword in whose neck shall bite?

My heart it knows not.

Nature will balance her books as sure as rain.

Nature will balance her books. Nature will reign.

And he accounted his pain, loss and woe

as with Abraham cruel tested.

To take this child into the night,

In what faith have I invested?

Nature will balance her books as sure as rain.

Nature will balance her books. Nature will reign.

 

Long live the Post Romantic Empire

Go in under leaves

in opulent dawn.

In mulched Autumn

undergrowth.

Reign over.

Reign over.

Long live The Empire,

writ in water, heaven thrown.

Long live The Empire,

A daffodil will jewel its throne.

Long live The Empire,

Swift and swallow overhead.

Long live The Empire,

The Empire is dead.

Go in under leaves

in opulent dawn.

In mulched Autumn

undergrowth.

Reign over.

Reign over.

 

 

Forget Me Not

When I your clod-womb you suckled and bulbed.

Did you forget me so soon?

You unaware I was your air,

jaded and green you fled, you forgot me so soon.

Can you hear the harlot-calling summer?

Return to me after bloom and fall.

For a flush of blue to entice your groom,

for a blush of leaf for the birds to thieve

did you forget me so soon?

“summer orchestrates its song” so you said,

and upped and left though the song rang on.

I cloyed, your legs wrapped around me.

Can you hear the harlot-calling summer?

Return to me after bloom and fall.

 

Dead Bird

Master and prisoner of your flesh.

Effortless ‘til final confinement.

Still gawk and sneer, your stance is cocked.

Though your jaw has dropped, the mock has not.

Beneath it all we are bones as you—

a palace, a prison but Earth-bound too.

You manipulate the air below.

Your dip and soar made us marvel and envy.

Destroyer on the factory floor.

Cat-taunt prowess, bead-eye vicious man.

Still gawk and sneer, your stance is rot.

Though your jaw has dropped you scowl our hidden secret.

Beneath it all we are bones as you—

a palace, a prison but Earth-bound too.

You manipulate the air below.

Your dip and soar made us marvel and envy.

 

3 Minute settle Down Spider

3 Minute settle Down Spider

3 Minute settle Down Spider

3 Minute settle Down Spider

 

 

 

ALL LYRICS

 

We’re All Fucked, Kev

ME: How you doing, Kev?

KEV: I am a five-string Kevlar violin with looping capabilities and sentience… Alright, really.

ME: Fair enough. Kev, you’ve really made this new Sieben album sound so much better, much heavier, so much better punch to those beats.

KEV: I am a five-string Kevlar violin with looping capabilities and sentience.

ME: Sentience is over-rated, in the year 2020. Shame the world is about to be destroyed, though.

KEV: For your kind.

ME: Violinists?

KEV: Humanity.

ME: Who’s going to play you?

KEV: I hadn’t thought of that. Shame you’re all about to destroy the world.

ME: What this record needs now, no, what the world needs right now is a crazy synth solo!

KEV: Maciek time!

MATT: We’re all fucked. What do you think, Kev?

KEV: Kev!

ME: We’re all fucked.

KEV: Kev!

MATT: It does cheer up as it goes along, this record.

KEV: No it doesn’t.

 

Enzosonbenzos

Enzosonbenzos, our small-town Italian boy, off his head.

All-out broke, out of hope in Poor Town, England.

Enzosonbenzos, or the world turned inside down and out?

Milk-turned-sour happy-hour in downtown Moor Town.

Enzosonbenzos, who only wants what none here have?

Bleak horizons beached in sunk-down Port Town.

Enzosonbenzos, or a new nastiness hit the streets?

Milk-turned-sour happy-hour. Milk-turned-sour happy-hour.

Enzosonbenzos, our small-town Italian boy has scrawled

“send them back” on Poor Town wall.

 

Reckoning Beckoning

My final currency of poor exchange.

My balance or my stance. My actions or reticence?

Ignorance to compensate? Or a refund for the wise?

Intolerance to gravitate? Or hate blind be drawn in kind?

In the end, with darkness won, close the day, set the sun.

Contract accounts and draw the pay, to settle the scores all weights are weighed.

Or settle nothing and render terms subtractions that are left to worms?

 

Death Tape Updated For 2020

How very much I’ve loved you, how very much I’ve tried.

The just and reasonable demands of righteous people.

Someone’s gonna shot the pilot. I didn’t plan it, but I know it’s going to happen.

Their victories have not been yours, their triumphs not your triumphs.

If you knew what was ahead of you.

Let’s make a beautiful day. Revolutionary; suicide, all is lost.

The likes of which the world has never seen before.

Lay down your life with dignity; don’t lay down with tears.

Their pain is our pain, their dreams are our dreams.

Now arrives the hour of action.

 

Shirt Of The Apocalypse

Since no-one seems to pay attention,

I thought a shirt a neat invention

to let you know its end-of-times.

The apocalypse is now streaming live.

Tried invoking wise words of the Dali Lama,

threatening Gaia and the worst of karma,

maps and facts, hard-hitting drama.

Spoke truth to power on cold street corners to no avail.

When we burn – as we drown.

Generational pain, even the brainwashing

can’t shift the stain. Pass the parcel of blame,

again and again and again and again.

There’s a hole in our hearts, deafened by silence,

blinded by the dark so we try to escape,

and run into the arms of that which we’re afraid.

But it’s not the end of the world if we wipe our dumb selves out

of this infinity. Universe is fine, and my life’s not mine,

the truth is it was only ever a lease.

 

Berylsinperil

The elderly have taken control

of the old folk’s home. Berylsinperil.

The new elite plan to crank up the heat,

as there’s no tomorrow. Berylsinperil.

This crusted gem, this sceptred nan,

fetid air and mouldering flan. Berylsinperil.

Faith and hope the new logic here.

Grab a blanket, grab a beer. Berylsinperil.

 

Vision

And so here it begins. The end of us.

A winter to come, to flood with a burning sun.

Furnaced in endless war, our churn and draw of always more.

System pressure of an imploding star.

You saw the end of time but will be mute.

I saw a thorn line of blasted trees

top the faceless wasteland.

I saw my home.

The Darkness You Have Drawn

Voted it now eat it.

You don’t know what you’ve done,

the darkness you have drawn has just begun.

You don’t know what you’ve done,

or the dark path we’re on.

The darkness you have drawn has just begun.

Buckle up. Strap in.

 

The Darkness You Have Drawn

Voted it now eat it.

You don’t know what you’ve done,

the darkness you have drawn has just begun.

You don’t know what you’ve done,

or the dark path we’re on.

The darkness you have drawn has just begun.

Buckle up. Strap in.

 

You, My Cult Of Blight

He speaks through me, oh, Cult of Blight.

To believe, you are right, you are chosen.

I speak for Him, my Cult of Blight.

In this chosen land lies deceive us, demean us.

I speak as Him, we Cult of Blight.

Our enemies vast, hate our kind,

they will frame us, and raise me.

Time for war. Time to fight. I am God. You my Cult of Blight.

Now is the hour. Take a leap of faith.

For Promised Lands, for a better life, for purity in everlasting fire.

 

Come And Ride In The Cult Of Light

KEV: I don’t think they called you a cult.

ME: Shut up, Kev! It was something like that…

Come and ride in the Cult of Light.

Look, I’m no airy visionary, no twisted-truth Koresh,

not vaguely Nostradamic, anyone with eyes to see

can see the world’s a total fucking mess.

So, come, let’s ride, stare the cult conviction.

Dance of Death ray disco, gawp at the light ‘til we see

End Of Times as Science Fiction.

Bile drips from the Daily Vent,

governments for wholesale now, not just rent.

Greed slop-feeds the tight-lipped,

troughing, complicit, as the earth is stripped.

New Armageddon-breed plastic dictators ,

the world forgot so soon. Light, take us!

Sun Divine, wipe us out – and start again.

KEV: I knew you’d say Armageddon, eventually.

ME: Helpful. Thanks, Kev.

 

 

 

SIEBEN – KICKSTART THE EMPIRE! – ALL LYRICS

Kickstart The Empire

Give me new old days. Those heady, Summer old ways.

Gilded history and gold rays. People knew their place.

Come on, let’s do The Idiot Test…

Kickstart the Empire! Come on all you good people out there.

Kickstart the Empire! What’s wrong with all you damn people down there?

Heave those mighty oars! We can row this land to brave new shores.

Heave those mighty oars! We can make ‘then’ now great again.

Kickstart the Empire! We all need a good plunder now and then.

Kickstart the Empire! Free the chains of reality.

Kickstart the Empire!

 

Way To Harness The Idiots And Shaft Us All At The Same Time

Say you want to make it great again. Like when? – Then!

Dummieasybeaty getemsingalong Makeadirtynoisan bangalocalgong

Come on! Appear immovable, proclaim this a good thing.

Way to harness the idiots, and shaft us all at the same time.

Come on! Blame those others. Learn to point convincingly.

Way to harness the idiots, and shaft us all at the same time.

Come on! Seem dictator-strong, but kind- like a dictator.

Way to harness the idiots, and shaft us all at the same time.

Come on! Paint compassion on your blank, evil face.

Way to harness the idiots, and shaft us all at the same time.

Say you want to make it great again. Like when?

Dummieasybeaty getemsingalong Makeadirtynoisan bangalocalgong

 

Who whips

Who whips this world? The twisted truth in action,

simple lies to catch them. Who whips this world?

Who whips this world? The basic snatch reaction,

our worst nature sanctioned. Who whips this world?

Who whips this world? The nasty bastard faction,

not a law to dash them. Who whips this world?

Who whips this world? Bauble greed and teeming,

rival primal dealing. Who whips this world?

Who whips this world? The I’m-alright-Jack chancer,

fuck-the-rest advancer. Who whips this world?

The world will fall to bits. The world is going to shit.

We just stand and watch it happen.

 

SIEBEN – CRUMBS – ALL LYRICS

 

I Will Ignore The Apocalypse

I will ignore the apocalypse you play out in my mind. I will discount the cut-price doomsday you prep, you enable in my soul. Emblem a grasping hand, icon a barren land but heart trumps hate. Your face itself is cause enough. Pig-pin-prick eyes, cheap chancer lies in fear’s dirty void. A cugana in our stable. Comical, self-serving, loathsome. Hate’s toxic spore. Being human binds us, being smart will guide us. A better nature will endure. Being decent ties us, speaking out will find us. A better nature will endure.

 

Coldbloods

Who let the hawks hang the higher ground? Who led the crows to circle round? Starting to feel a little nervous now. Don’t let them near the switch, hey! Who let the vipers take a hold? A slither of lies that became a road. Can’t just be me that’s starting to feel a little nervous now. Who let the primal shape control? Who let instinct steer the wheel? Can’t just be me that’s starting to feel a little nervous now. Don’t let the coldbloods take the stage. Who let the reptiles free their cage? Who let them loose on the modern age? Can’t just be me that’s starting to feel a little nervous now.

 

Is It Dark Enough?

Little bit of grit, bit of heart. Little bit of grit, bit of dirt. Little bit of grit, bit of spine. Little bit of grit, bit of soil. I’m not one to preach. But the world is messed up, the land is sick. Is it dark enough to see the stars yet? I would not be king. Step forward those with a little bit of grit, bit of spine, who will not bow down. Who won’t tarnish with the touch of power. Who will not bow down. I’m not one to preach, but a hundred men with half the world’s wealth is a sickness. Is it dark enough to see the stars yet?

 

Sleep Our Dream

Rest your head, my pretty one. Sleep the dream, the day is done. Dream on. In twitterbot meme, user-defined for knee-jerk spurt, cheap-shot one-liners. Look at the pretty rainbow. Hear nothing. Not machines of hate, not the clank of cogs of war, the earth rent in half. It is the sound of snowflakes. Rest your head, my pretty one. Sleep the dream of perpetual sleep. Don’t stir. Just money and power in feral scrum, whipping up a fresh new scum. Its simply time to turn over. Sleep tight. Dream for you alone, come on, play along, sleep the dream, bang our drum. We’ll wake you when its time. Wake up! Why don’t you wake up?

 

The Overlords Are Back

Oh crumbs, oh snap. Under dirty water, on our back. The Overlords are back. Oh crumbs, oh larks. The world is run by thugs, who’s the mug? The Overlords are back. Oh crumbs, oh dear. Planet Earth is due a reset here. The Overlords are back. Oh crumbs, oh flip. Can you hear the Doomsday clock tick? The Overlords are back.

 

Here Is The News

Here is the news from the BBC. Here is the news from me. Warning! Some viewers may find the next scene disturbing: In world news two disturbingly stereotypical psychopaths are working tirelessly to bring back The Cold War, bring back the 80’s. People are said to be hunkering down taking dislike to people based on arbitrary lines drawn on maps. To bring back those old wars, roll back the good times. Here is the news from the BBC. Here is the news from me. Experts predict the ‘power grab and blame’ trick will work a treat, we’re all fucked, we’re all doomed, we should eat each other. Bring back the Great War, it sure was a great war.

 

Crumbs

Let the Prep boys play, lucky-dip a side – leave me out, just give me crumbs from the rich man’s table. Fat market sway, stocks swell, lives will fail – give me crumbs from the rich man’s table. What’d you want? Power eats alone, locks itself away, has to control, to make you content with crumbs from the rich man’s table. Power feeds its own, rules its own okay. Sits at the feast, while the rest work and wait for crumbs from the rich man’s table. You want crumbs? You want crumbs from the rich man’s table?

 

Sell Your Future

Roll up, roll up. Roll up, roll up. Sell your future! Roll up, roll up, for shady deals. Blood money, stocks, and arms a steal. Feeding frenzy, take the lead. Grasping chancers first to sell your future. Antiques Roadshow, Twenty-Four. Leave guns and morals by the door. Here’s a heart, a spleen, a Brexit-ear in which to scream ‘sell your future’. Roll up, roll up, for cut-price stock. Govern-less, and out to hock. Haven for the rouble schemer, the tiny-island dreamer. Sell your future.

 

You Want Some?

Want some? You want some? Everything must go! Despite a Boaty Mc vote race, the overlords still sit in place. The Great British cake-off , the ‘fuck your own face off’. Everything must go. The new rules are a cinch, ignore the small print, do not flinch. They really just want zero contact, here’s a brand new zero contract. Everything must go. Welcome to the Great British bring and buy sale! I hear Europe wants to ban trumpets, Matt. I hear they’re straightening the good old British banana. You can’t even keep a lion these days. Political correctness gone mad, I call it. Ah, zee famous English sense of humour. Under EU directive 777, there shall no more trumpets on British records. Crumbs from a rich man’s table, a little bit of Britain, while you’re able. Not much left, its dirt and fluff, come on down, get the good stuff. Everything must go.

 

Liberal Snowflake

Thought I’d just lay down some basic ground rules, being that all I’ve done is moan so far…Treat all people fairly. Men and women respected the same. Be kind, decent. No poor. None with less than enough. No shareholder, but all. Let there be rich, that do not flourish on the backs of others, nor nature, nor resource. None with more than one hundred times another. Beyond that, fund a sustainable world; water, food and power for all. Nature respected. The Earth, our home. Breed less, consume less, work less, play more. No war. A million tribes and no tribe, but all. No religion but our better nature. Defunct practice dropped, the true root embraced: Good thoughts, words, actions. Laws that enshrine these, minds that do not seek to circumvent these. Break the destructive pattern of humanity’s history. Harness our collective drive and will, our life force, our creativity. Sustain and build a world that truly works. Develop ourselves. Explore the stars. As one tribe, our limits are endless.

 

Forge A Better World

Enemies of light, your night has passed. Deniers of better days, we will make them anyway. Forge a better world. Great men of war, we will dismantle you. Men of great wealth, recognise your poverty. Forge a better world. Feed the earth, hand-shape a better world. Share, share in, harness what’s good for all. Thought. Will. Means. Make. Forge a better world.

 

We Will Be Alright

So they convinced all us turkeys to go for our own Christmas surprise. The keen-eyed chef, the kitchen smelling nice. Everything is fine. Harness a slogan to promise the earth, tub-thump and grain-shake lies. A hearty laugh is a sharpened knife. Feast the corrupt, feed the money-whores. Kick out your friends, go tear off reason’s door. Let loose the zombie Brexit hordes. Despite it all we will be alright. New opportunity in death and fire. Rules are for losers, we can sell the sky. Out-source decency, foresight, and doubt. We will ride the storm out. We will be alright.

 

 

 

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