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The Pathway

by THE SPECTRAL PRiDE

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1.
Uncle Bunkum 03:39
There's something in the greenhouse straining at the roots Snapping at the windows, harmless flies and passers-by Old Uncle Bunkum in his yellow boots Rolling up the barbed-wire, piling papers on the fire Nobody knows what my uncle knows Nobody knows what my uncle grows Word is he's now on to something new Nobody knows but arooba rooba rooba There's something in the homestead turning on the lights Snapping at the windows, formulating strategies Old Uncle Bunkum grafting through the night Giving out the orders to his new herbaceous borders Nobody knows what my uncle knows Nobody knows what my uncle grows Word is he's now on to something new Nobody knows but arooba rooba rooba There's something by the roadside stamping on the flowers Snapping at the windows - out to get the carburettor Old Uncle Bunkum, yellow daisy-roots Collar up, looking round, moving to another town Nobody knows what my uncle knows Nobody knows what my uncle grows Word is he's now on to something new Nobody knows but arooba rooba rooba
2.
Greet the new sophistication Machines and random copulation Jaded orchestrations shout The age of sex and paranoia Work the old manipulation Stainless steel and stimulation Mindless masturbation seeds The age of sex and paranoia Glassy-eyed and cryptic factions Golden boys stripped for action Stylized reactions meet The age of sex and paranoia Occult symbiotic functions Extreme art or extreme unction Choreographed destruction in The age of sex and paranoia Wedding dress or dress rehersal Forward rolls or roll reversal Roll the next commercial for The age of sex and paranoia Futuristic fins and stylings Dead corpuscles, iron filings Reject carnage clogs The age of sex and paranoia Piles of scraping scrapyard has-beens Full clotheslines of hopeful blue jeans Empty eyes unseeing in The age of sex and paranoia Powdered rust and spent emissions Final thrust, first editions Tender your submissions to The age of sex and paranoia
3.
Countdown 05:03
Countdown to supernova, no time to explain Steal what you can, share what you steal Nemesis by numbers, hum the old song Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide What is happening to my hair? What is this burning on my skin? My colour scheme is turning grey Flaky pastry peels away Rattle them bones Countdown to supernova, no time to waste Gob full of liquor, head full of pills Roulette with automatics, sing the old song Everyone's a winner, baby, that's for sure What is happening to my hair? What is this burning in my skin? My spray-on tan is turning grey Flaky pastry peels away Rattle them bones Countdown to supernova, one thing to do Do you love me? I love you too Last chance for romance, howl the old song When I get that peeling I want sexual healing What is happening to my hair? What is this burning through my skin? My DNA is crumbling grey Flaky pastry peels away Rattle them bones
4.
Hey Big Bollocks, lookey here The boa constrictor's got no beer Clap hands Someone's dropped a bomb somewhere Exterminating the atmosphere In Taiwan All for the chance to fade away Cougar Boo is feeling blue Brained her dad with a snooker cue Clap hands All the girls have gone down town Tiger Sue is sliding down In Lap Land All for the chance to fade away Ungawa bongo! Monkey Boy has just been paid Better call the fire brigade Clap hands Punched a needle in a vein Cracked his head on a windowpane Crap bands All for the chance to fade away Ungawa bongo!
5.
Zyklon-B 05:16
Wakey-wakey - time for a shower No crunchy Kellogs - the crystal's here Stripey pyjamas are out of fashion Bag-boney nuddy - now get in line We're on the road to milk and honey With bars of soaps and baldy heads Tushy-pegless we face the future Tattooed arm in tattooed arm Who put the lie? Screechy-scratchy - manna from heaven Sprinkles like sugar through the grate Deep inspiration - we breathe the future Our heads are lampshades, but where's the light Who put the lie? But this is not a dream With strawberries and cream A shindig in the shade With schnapps and lemonade Our bellies are on fire Our nerves are copper-wire Our only wherewithal A jackboot in the balls They came and wrecked out homes Put numbers on our arms Then shipped us here in droves Set fire to our clothes They said we were profane And had to be contained The logic of the schwein A non-production line So nighty-night, my little treasures This master race is a disgrace Reduce the world to lines and numbers You take the texture from the grain Who put the lie In Zyklon-B?
6.
Hysterical tongues - rapid and despicable Hysterical tongues - loud and undesirable Another hate affair - hurtful and having to play A game of screw or scare - myself I have nothing to say Hysterical tongues - nagging without dignity Hysterical tongues - festering community No thoughts in my mouth - a rank impossibility Intention dissolves - an alien ability They say: Son, be prepared for the failures you face Violence, despair and disgrace They say: Son, be prepared for the final plunge Niggle niggle niggling hysterical tongues Hysterical tongues - cold sensibilities Hysterical tongues - desperate hostilities These words in my mind - no longer have meaning at all Isolate time - wild gesture, iniquitous call They say: Son, be prepared for the failures you face Violence, despair and disgrace They say: Son, be prepared for the final plunge Niggle niggle niggling hysterical tongues Hysterical tongues!
7.
8.
Don't touch the bass - might just explode Ninth wave's arriving tonight Handful of wasps buzzing with anger Could do with an Armalite Diligent zombies, meathooks and crombies The boys are out dealing the clout Smack on the noggin, load up the wagon This is what living's about Stand by for action, something will happen Keep looking out, keep looking out Stand by for action, nothing will happen That is what living is surely about Don't stand about, stick to the groove Don't stand about or you'll be removed Don't stand about, stick to the groove Don't stand about, this isn't the Louvre Here they come now kicking the door down So put that camera away These boys mean business, no How you doing? Such drivel won't delay the affray They look so mean, they look so vicious Look at the way they are dressed And they speak you know they're so serious Hold it, son, you're under arrest! Stand by for action, something will happen Keep looking out, keep looking out Stand by for action, nothing will happen That is what living is surely about Don't stand about, stick to the groove Don't stand about or you'll be removed Don't stand about, stick to the groove Don't stand about, this isn't the Louvre
9.
Handbags! 03:37
It happens everywhere we go People falling from the sky When we ask them where they're from They say: Forgiveness Just give me money Is all you say No going funny Unless you pay It happens everywhere we go People rolling on the ground When we ask them who they are They say: Tomorrow The slumber rumba Is all you do All thumbs and fingers Wrapped up in blue It happens everywhere we go People staring at the sun When we ask them what they want They never answer Tumbling over Is all you are Folded like paper In Shangri-La

about

New versions of tracks from previous projects.

credits

released February 20, 2010

1 & 2 written by Jonny Deadpan, ©2010 Deep Coma.
3 & 9 written by THE SPECTRAL PRiDE and Jonny Deadpan, ©2010 Bollockbrain Productions and Deep Coma.
4-8 written by THE SPECTRAL PRiDE, ©2010 Bollockbrain Productions.
All tracks arranged and played by THE SPECTRAL PRiDE.
Recorded, engineered and mixed by The Knobster at the Bollockbrain Bunker.
Produced by Mr Reindeer.
Artwork: Frank Blunt.

A Genuine Bollockbrain Product

Complete artwork, including booklet, is included with the album download.

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THE SPECTRAL PRiDE Hornsea

A recording venture launched in the spring of 2004 to enable four friends to meet and indulge in a common favourite pastime: the laying down of sounds while making one another laugh.

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