

_COOLING TOWERS_

She said: 'cover me with leaves and sweep me to the gutter
Just your civic duty, there's no need to shudder.'
In the flowerless plant of power we while away the hours
Beneath acrid, smoking fag ends
Under cooling towers.

Could you stay if I wanted?
Could you hold a real job                 x2
     down?

One more year of exhibition
And then the lights ,   the lights go out.
Yeah I know the market's tough. But while they're buying, girl, you'd better stick around.
But you sprawled on tarmac mattress, counting speeding drivers.
You said you think you're Cleopatra
Well I was thinking more...Lady Godiva?


Could you stay if I wanted?
Could you hold a real job                 
     down?

Could you stay if I wanted?
Could you hold a real job                 
       down?







IVORYSERFS - Cooling Towers


|POPPIES & VINES|

Your TV screen’s a gallery of addicts
So, we hold an intervention to change your viewing habits.
Yeah, the screen is anti-reflective,
But as a mirror it’s still fairly effective.

Poppies and vines,
How many fixes does it take to convince yourself you’re fine?
Poppies and vines.

Life imitates art, imitates life.
You carve sculptures with a carving knife.
You stain glass windows with cheap red wine.
They grew the vineyards with pesticide.
Oh, honey you have opium eyes.
Is that a thorn or a needle stuck in your side?
They hope you throw up the fallacy
And choke on your reality.

Poppies and vines!
How many fixes does it take to convince yourself you’re fine?
Poppies and vines!

Undermined your mind.



IVORYSERFS - Poppies & Vines

IVORYSERFS are a band consisting two teenagers and two fully grown people from Nottingham, UK.



Here are some lyrics that match with this music.

\TETHERED/

When you caught me
I was cold-blooded and immobile
And if I'd moved, I'd move like a reptile
Who hasn't wanted warmth in a while
Resurrected by roundabout tales of later
Breathe like an ambulance, this bed is a stretched
Your fingertips tiny defibrillators

Shake...shiver...tremble and tremor
You're the post where my mind is tethered
But this is just
Slice of forever
You and I we'll cut it together

Here comes the courier
Paying no mind to natural laws
You mix messages more than I mix metaphors
And this one says 'what are you waiting for?'
One day soon, will you fix the hieroglyphs for me?
No rosetta stone. I'm on my own
In idiocy

Shake...shiver...tremble and tremor
You're the post where my mind is tethered
But this is just
Slice of forever
You and I we'll cut it together
(UNCLEAR)







IVORYSERFS - Tethered

/LOCKJAW\

We’re the architects with no eyes
A blanket of bruised minds...
Yeah. We’re the ministers with no ties.
The hacks, they love to sigh...

Media deviants come for me
Never gonna purchase a grasp on honesty
Lockjaw.
Carry the torch of yesterday
Carrion circling their prey
Lockjaw.

We’re the emperors with new clothes…
Our subjects, raise a toast/
We're the talk show hosts with no throats
The hacks, they love a show.

Media deviants, come for me!
Never gonna purchase a grasp on honesty
Lockjaw.
Carry the torch of yesterday
Carry on circling their prey
Lockjaw.

IVORYSERFS - Lockjaw

SCORCHED EARTH - lyrics

his guilt-licked insomnia...
his green & purple nausea...
his well-documented temper...
his Yes Men beside him,
the hallowed door slams behind him,
a dynasty denied him.

he dreams in black & white,
he thinks in furious straight lines...

indiscretions lathered in the paper,
worse than a leper in Westminster,
hollow, grey-flecked Pariah...
he knew his love was transactional,
his baby cooked the books for a transnational,
but now she’s boiled him alive...

‘oh lord, what was it worth?’
cries the simpering voice of institutionalised nothingness
‘this is it. this is scorched earth.’
heads of state will roll,
last gasp of the gas mask status quo

fragile ego is hurtling...
spin doctors are circling...
engraved lighter comes out, and click.
small fire eats the dirty files...
big fire eats the dirty piles...
if he burns - it all burns, it all burns...

used to dream in black and white,
used to think in furious straight lines.
now he dreams in greyscale greyscale -
now he thinks in wilting patrician arks

the simpering voice of institutionalised nothingness cries:
‘this is it. this is scorched earth.’
heads of state will roll,
last gasp of the gas mask status quo...
dynamo

IVORYSERFS - Scorched Earth

EMAIL: ivoryserfs@gmail.com

ANDREW TUCKER - V/G
TOM SELLARS - G
LEWIS BELLE - BG
TOM WORMALL - D


IVORYSERFS

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