180gm heavy vinyl (black), including lyric sheet with an extra printed download code.
Includes unlimited streaming of Vincent Vocoder Voice
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 4 days
The train came in sideways. The plane fell down. Jerk awake from the wreckage in the hotel lounge. Pat out the fires and call the waiter for a cancerous cheque. A little sweet malignancy to sour my breath. I’ve started laying off my minerals one by one. My particles are packing up their confessions because we’re far too long dying, far too long spent in doomed negotiations with the firmament. Is this it? Are we just . . . ? There’s no shivers in livers. No groans in bones. No shock wave windows beautifying our homes. There’s no gunshots, no enemies, bomb shelter ends. I’ll sit flicking through my iPhone 'til I choke on my friends. I’ll welcome every single freckle: I’ll bless you to bloom. Help yourself to my lymphocytes and memories too. I hope no maker’s waiting glancing at the clock in his seat cos I’m sick of queueing up and kicking my feet. Sucking in fibre blowing out shit. So suffer little children – see if I care. Suck a Samaritans' receiver if you don’t think it’s fair. There was a God in a moral but the chrysalis split. The towns filled up with nothing – now we’re drowning in it. The flapping mouths like meatuses promising seed to reincarnate me to whoever I please. If I only look snappy and thumb out the notes. I’d rather place bets with my sweetheart over who will turn first to a ghost. Are we just sucking in fibre blowing out shit? Is that all there is? Is that it? Is that it?