Cover of a good song. I haven't released anything in forever. Shout out to Australian oddball rock band, Good Morning. Check them out.

Oppsie (Good Morning Cover)

Dreams Never End by New Order from their 1981 record Movement.

Dreams Never End (New Order Cover)

"Couple namechangers in a southern cemetery."
Common predilection, neither name did fit in at all.
"He said he'd come off straight as an arrow."
Cursed your company and terrorized the children! At the terminal, outside the common fair.
Focus your attention, on somebody, elsewhere.
"Misconception."
Soon as you get the message, couldn't come in through any clearer: OH! HOLD ON! LET ME RECONSIDER! 
"Come again?"
"Fourteen stripes on opposite sides, down their thighs. Said they died holding hands."
(Later on the autopsy table: October fourteenth within two minutes of each... of each other. A complicated mess we were in... When we were questioned all we got to say was this: "didn't seem like anything really out of the ordinary, for them, at all".)
"I can't say much, probably best to burn the truth, along with their bodies, soon as we dig them up, and toss them on that burning pyre under the moon."
(Desdemona, goodbye moon) 
"Both witnesses, coming up soon."
Why don't you take your lessons from the moon?
Why can't you take your lessons from the moon?
Why can't you take your lessons from the moon?
Why don't you take your lessons from the moon?

Graverobber (Moon in Libra)

I write my songs in language no one understands cuz I just can't put words through the pen, like some can.
Oh, here he comes again, with that; nothing you're used to, self-aware flair.
Always walks on grass, and never asphalt.

Try not to be so anticipatory,
and I'll try not to be so associative.
Maybe you could just slow down, a minute or two?
and let the rest of the world catch up to you?
cuz I'm feeling, two timelines.
All knowing glance, stifled smile,
rolling eyes betrays what's hidden inside.

Kid's the type I just can't decide like...
do I punch him or jump his bones?
maybe get him stoned?
he don't even want you.
Even if you ask to come thru...
dude, he will crucify you...

He also sings in language in no one understands,
cuz it seems to me, he's had it up to his knees, with anyone ever hashing out the meaning.

He also sings in language no one understands, cuz it seems so bland to be understood.

Language That...

the conversion of st paul
drums provided by chris, find his music here:
https://soundcloud.com/spikesunshine
image by caravaggio 

ran into trouble on the road to damascus, 
stuck spears in their thoughts, hidden comments.
till the acid hit.
combination, right down to the exit plans.
you really thought that? girl is a tarpit.
she sits in their thrones and they cut off his head.
calling the astral, the angel you saw,
carrying a sign, and a knife in their backs.
under the sun, beneath the convalescence.
beneath his arms, an impressive weight to carry.
calling satan, i hate to narrate it,
but underneath the sun we couldn't trace it inside.
ran into trouble on the way home from damascus,
stuck spears in their throats and they got what it takes!
under his sign, till its force shone right through them!
under the sun, felt so guilty inside.
sad and drunk, on the road to damascus went,
and jumping off a terminal decline.
all the way home, and off the road to damascus...
underneath the sun, on the road to damascus,
stuck the spears in their throats, and then they cut off the head.
underneath the sun, i felt so guilty inside,
over there.
oh the sun, on the road to damascus wept, and it bled, at the red of our backs.
oh the son on the road to damascus wept.
oh well.
gotta wonder if we were all to feel bad about it.
can we be seen in public?
anyway, anywhere. it wept and it bled,
and it can dig its head out of dirt.
had a soul, and had faith in its part,
and it burned up in flames, and then it went away.
can be seen in its shame, behind its shadow,
cast it on the ground in time, but then it went away.
i'll be seen on the road up to damascus,
and they cut off his head!
and then they cut off his head!
oh the scene on the road to damascus went.

Road to Damascus

caught a phone booth, call it photographic
and overlapped with the lesson ended
oh shit, now it's caught between em
could have fought it but the ancients offer the old french method of revenge
petardier said, it went to his head again.
oh shit, now I'm stuck beneath it.
a toppled wall down on my head.
I caught a sent of, call it telepathic 
and overlapping with the end I said to them:
"this could be as good as last week. your confession wouldn't be so needed."
a conquest, set em both back at the foot of the wall,
but the timing wasn't perfect,
and the bomb rigged to the highest blew its fuse too soon
and broke its fall on our hero down there, armor and all.
old friend, crawling beneath it.
oh shit, really should've saw that coming.
was the old french method of revenge
petardier said, oh it wasn't all us then!
I'll arrange myself under the wreckage then.
was the old french method of revenge,
petardier said, it went to his head again. 
oh shit, you really should've seen it. 
fucking double-edged sword shit.

Petardier

the consequence is less than what you wanted.
from it there a lesson is presented:
it's generous to run away.
i fucking need to mutilate today.
she was our national depression.
friend, you know, the less convalescent.
national defense.
one in less than what you see but then she said it.
there it went again,
i'll run away.
attention! from the sound of it, he planned it!
wrenching for your pornographic man.
cleanse your bodies of the generous disempowering national agenda.
glad now that i've left it all behind.
pray a while.
a photo or your favorite song.
you are a light. a word, inspiring.
...and too, oh no, he left and then he said: quarter-graphic secret insurrection.
national forget it while you argue.
christ, it isn't all a master plan but all of my friends have realized it and caught us in the fucking act.
consequently i've become the center of a commonly retread tragic tale.
I nabbed it for our local tragedian.
trample on the lesson that's presented.
it's generous to run away.
i fucking need to mutilate!
 
national forget it while you argue.
christ it isn't all a master plan, but let's just all forget it while you argue.
consequently less than what you wanted.
national forget it while you argue.
a need to mutilate.
consequently less than what you wanted.
national forget it while you argue.
consequently less than what you wanted.
a need to mutilate.
let's just all forget it while you argue.
consequently less than what's presented.
let's just all forget it while you argue.
consequently less than what you wanted.
let's just all forget it while you argue.
i need to mutilate.

Local Tragedian

I'm a teen kabbalist an overly analytic
off and on without us knowing a thing

I don't wanna be here anymore
I don't really think I ever wanted to
I'm reaching out to no one

Teen Kabbalist

REAL 100TH FLOOR IS DEAD.
https://real100thfloor.bandcamp.com/album/one-too-many

Real 100th Floor

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