I am shirtless muddy boy
no socks for wearing
toenails ive got in grown muddy
pantless boy me
dirt is hardened my eyes lids muddy
turn hose off yes to ear wax
muddy fence asbestos crinkled
pre pubescent dirty boy, girl less muddy.
undrinkable brown liquid mud
slap my hand down
splash my face muddy
winters stew gluey car muddy
cant eat said mummy
dirty bacci daddy
me same daddy... facial muddy
slap my front head down
muddy all again with snail
dirty play time

sniff muddy nostril soggy mud cloggy?

... 

slipslide buddy
spit bubbles glossy
pop pop pop pop glossy
party time for me Muddy/

Clarence's Monologue

'Appendage' - Thinner the Elderly, Oiled the Outlet.

Dusty skin on two cranes. 
Beneath the five o'clock fruit bowl sky,
Of mangoes and apples, purples and blue
Grape coloured shapes and ballet shoes
My two cranes, like extracts of pylons 
Like two lanky siblings in a kingdom of sandpits
And portable sisters - yet they are my folks
My elderly parents all north and remote, 

Who suck it up and build me my hot pocket home
Whilst doing their backs in, they are dis lur hackti 
They are worker bees, they are naying like war horses 
They carry on they sludge on they soldier on
They are dis lur hackti, they are dislocating their twiggy boned bodies 
They are not criers they are snappers 
They stand they don't sit, they spit on the rest.
Caitlin looks just like her first birthday cake

They endure the weaklings champagne tears
No they are not quokkas, they are ballerinas,
Now snap that back, try it! Snap that titanium spine!
Snap that ballerina, snap that ballerina!

Spin, spin, twist, swirl, spin.

Snap that impressive Russian, snap that little musk stick 
Snap that effeminate thespian, snap that young dancer 
Snap that figurine, snap that 8 year olds toy
Snap that perfected wedding cake icon 

Snap that overwhelmingly featherweight performer 
Snap that lover of long dead Tchaikovsky, 
Snap that skintight spray painted century old VCR possession.
Snap that ballerina, snap that ballerina!

Chase that smug shadow, you it's their. Give on in, my ringlet thingy.
Wrench your neck. Wrench your neck, forewarn us of the snappery.
Out of the preachers with leeches on each of our musical spinning boxes
Where pink little crystallised lasses indizzinate you and me crane in its cradle.

Snap that dizzy crystal bitch

Two Cranes - DEMO

He was cruel to his dog in front of me. 
 That mutt was five, we were ten. His sister was pretty. 
 His mother was divorced, and she slapped me once. 
 I did not tell my ma because she cried, and cried, and 
 Cried enough already. 

 Midway through my low-growth ages of 
 Braces and racists, my mother and papa 
 Mail me onward - I'm on board that boar, 
 Where I'm the lipsticked, meticulous and downright pitiless 
 Sinner amongst them all. 

 I'm in the kitchen corner, with the pesticide and stockings. 

 Stompin' and strollin' - 
 Parallel with asbestos, 
 With a stubbed out drag between my 
 Hearer and my head. 
 I nearly was a millionaire - but my 
 Fifteen questions were incorrect. 
 (Dismal) 
 With my four year old and hot plate, 
 And the comfort of my porch, 
 My corner is my kingdom - 
 And its aged as well as me. 

 Bad boy, unblessed! 
 Coz' I got 365 x 7. 
 How long do I live in the balaclava of woman?

Seven Moments

THISTLE - SNEAK PEEK

With influence ranging from the carnage of The Birthday Party, the subtlety of OM, the beauty of Sigur Ros, and the forms of Karlheinz Stockhausen, Zyklus aim to achieve a distinctly 'grey' sound, comprised of harsh dissonance, raw and minimal instrumentation, embedded melody, and often violent gestures, all in the context of rather spacious forms. Lyrically, thematic material can be bleakly evocative, incorporating opaque metaphor, and reference to the cheerless Mundane, with some level of black humour.

Zyklus (duo)