Had a sort of mini break after Sponges, concentrated on remastering old songs mainly. Anyway I still did a few bitz. October's songs.

The Mist [E.P]

Only small bits emerge from the mist.
Where's the mind been hit? years of insanity.
The best ones have only good intentions.
But they're not strong. Curse your humanity.
A loud sound from somewhere within you.
It's not allowed, a strain on the sinew.
A burden and you're a latecomer.
A silence crept right in among us.

The throne where they sit.
And your dealings with it.
A house is just bricks.
And a homes there to split.
A family can be both a blessing and curse.
In the mist castaway now, for better or worse.

A stormy horizon.
May offer some truth.
An escape from the silence,
A room with a roof.
A glint in the corner of any minds eye.
But no, somethings missing, it's all been a lie.

Oh we fall out, the cloudy abyss.
Trudging wet legs, down from the mist.
Hang your ceiling, spongy wet moss.
Girl I'm no fool,  no one's my boss.
No good longing, life passes by.
Some weeks turn to years, we all use our eyes.
A plain daunting, return to a home.
To seek more time, stuck out alone.

A seat where you sit,
and just stare into space.
A friend that's gone missing.
You must have a case.
The tacit acceptance of any old lie.
The mist can appear in the blink of an eye.

The dragon's they drew, on the edges of the maps.
Who refused to submit? Who refused what they lacked?
The laughs of the sailors who'd been there before.
A knife in The Temple, you know what's in store.

Down we go.
Down we go.
On we go.
On the road.

Down we go.
Down we go.
On we go.
Down the road.

Only some bits, emerge from the mist.
As your mind flits, back into sanity.
The worst things, happen to people.
Forget your middle class apathy.
See you, I know what you're thinking.
Not clever, what's with the drinking?
A mean look, in your minds eye.
The years roll, life passed you by.

The throne where they sit.
And your dealings with it.
A house is just bricks,
And a homes there to split.
A family can be both a blessing and curse.
In the mist, castaway now, for better or worse.

The small bits, that emerge from the mist.
The mind takes its hits, proof or profanity.
The best one, only good intentions.
But not strong, curse my humanity.
A quiet voice from somewhere within you.
Say's no more. not what I'm into.
No burden, forge into winter.
The mist rolls. The mist that you enter.


The Mist

Boomshanka.
Bazooka.
Balalaika.
Babushka.
Yeah.

Ravi Shankar.
Oil tanker.
Covid booster.
Tik Tokker.
Yeah.

I walk around this town, and I think no.

Rich man.
Fake tan.
Shadow ban.
Hangman.
Just yeah.

Dismisser.
Home improver.
School gate.
Kitchen chooser.
Yeah.

I walk around this town, and I...
Walk around this place, and I go...
Wander round this town I just go... no.

Oh, you Kate Bush.
Hindu Kush.
No rush.
Soft mush.
Oh, yeah.

Graduator.
Mediator.
Coupon saver.
Salivater.
Yeah.

I wander around this town and I think, not.

Oh, you pound shop.
Line trotter.
Wild eyed.
Harry Potter 
Yeah.

Lee Sharp.
Mott the Hoople.
Gary Cooper.
Storm trooper.
Yeah.

I walk around this town, and I...
Walk around this place, and I go...
Walk around this town, and I got.... nowt.

David Bowie.
All knowing.
Uncensored.
Tits showing.
Yeah.

Cocaine.
Brain drain.
Insane.
Michael Caine.
Oh, yeah.

Leftover.
Passover.
Hot stuff.
You're dog rough.
Oh, yeah.

Plastic blender.
Gift sender.
Gender bender.
Rabid dog.
Oh, yeah.

Michael Jackson.
Heart Attack.
Neil Buchanan.
Art attack.
Just... yeah.

Boomshanka.
Belly Dancer.
Balalaika.
Babushka.
Yeah.


This Town

This house is just rooms which you filled up with smoke.
(I stand alone).
This house is just room after room full of ghosts.
(Awoken, froze).
An endless parading, masquerading, repost.
(All faded gold)
All empty, delaying, echoing, despairing.
Denying, all-knowing, reborn.

Give me some time.
Give me some kind of love.
Just give me some space with my dreams.
A portent or something arrives from above.
Just give me a moment to breathe.

This house is subconscious, aware of without.
(Into the unknown).
This house has a plan for the brain it's left out.
(Better off gone).
An empty, decaying, unswaying, expanding.
Demanding, backhanding, alive.
Any answers you get are just met with stone silence.
I'm supposed to,
Drag this stone.
Alive.

Give me some time.
Give me something to love.
Just give me some space in my dreams.
A collage or something arrives from below.
Just give me this moment I need.

I'm alone.
Stately home.
Alive.

Give me some time.
Give me all your love.
Just give me the moment I need.
A warning or something, rise up from beneath.
I'll be alright if I just breathe.



Haustraum

As forty one summers flew by. 
Damn your age and the blink of your eye.
As all presumed miscreance followed by recompense.
Now. 
You're half done.

The pretender who should have been king.
The same man who could not do a thing for himself.
Or others, not following? 
Hard pills to swallow in life.
What a world.

Look... it's boredom or love on the rocks.
There's no way to avoid aftershocks.
It's either earth shattering, else it's a tiny bit... dull.
Choose your girl.

The fantasy life of your mind, 
Can only replace certain parts of the world.
We all have to live in it, hard to find give in it.
Relax.
Have a whirl.

Now you... hold your hands out to me.
Like we've still got the time.
I remember sixteen.
Seems like yesterday, right?

Was there much money where you grew up?
Were there many reasons to aim up?
Was there bread in the bread bin and laughter and music and songs?
Sing alongs?

Were your twenties a wonderful time? 
Or did you spend it trying to make sense of the world.
A drunken, embittering, withering, dallying fool.
What a world.

Now you... hold your hands out to me.
Now we're all on the slide.
Do you remember sixteen?
Bet you had quite the time.

What has become?
Face the rising sun.

What has become?

Much more to come.
Face the rising sun.

Now you... hold your hands out to me.
Like your right at my side.
I remember sixteen.
It was yesterday, right.

Down we go.
Down deeper we go.

Forty-One

We are the music makers. We are the dreamers of dreams.

Spotify. What a world.
https://open.spotify.com/artist/0XS1P2tk3avKzQUZx6j45Z?si=h7Zz_lgKSm2WZZyjEblxXg

You can also add me on Instagram if you like. I hardly post anything... 
www.instagram.com/spukschreibmaschine



The Mist [E.P]

SpukSchreibMaschine