1. |
A Patch Of Ground
04:04
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A Patch of Ground
Thousands of hectares put down to tobacco
Thousands more to sugar cane too
Work the soil & miss the harvest
Exports rising good profits in view.
Modelled on Big Brother Land of the free
Devil's Peak held up by selfish hierarchy
Under her bed there're pairs of shoes,
A president & Electric Blue.
A patch of Ground is all that's needed
To compensate for being short changed
Back at home trouble braids unheeded.
Pilgrims at scared sites, hypocrites deranged.
Paperboard houses like decks of cards
Discreetly out of view from 5 star backyards
They can't stop the rabble from crowding the streets
& hounding all the tourists that they meet.
The military complain All of the way
Said the crux of the thing was inability to pay
The systems fine, just needs a little tuning
Bandaids over gangrene Cadaver like grooming.
One way ticket on the marriage express
Passports to fame and fortune no less
Age and size and creed no barrier
To a brand new life her dreams will carry her.
Fate decided the colour of change
Time and place spontaneously arranged
It was hard to tell if behind the scenes
Strings were being pulled for the American Dream
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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2. |
Gimli's Lament
03:37
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Gimli’s Lament
A trysting cup lies forever untouched
Near a thread of gold in crystal
Pure as a star in the early dawn
Pure as the love of troubadours’ songs.
Say goodbye, say goodbye For now you must fly You must fly from ‘Lorien
East is burdened with future sorrows
West is where my true hurt lies
Where the bittersweet memory burns.
Say goodbye to 'Lorien
Say goodbye to 'Lorien
From our lady, you must fly
Don’t say where, nor say why
My axe will sing for you and yours
Cleaving a path from mountain to wood
For a golden thread in crystal In the west, where my true hurt lies.
The world has turned from 'Lorien
No home for elves in a world of men Goodbye, goodbye - from Imraldris we fly
So say goodbye to 'Lorien – to Lorien
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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3. |
Wah Wow (But Is It Art?)
03:57
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Wah Wow (But is it Art?)
Life becomes a portrait
Feel no passion, feel no pain
Sell the image of a victim
Staring blankly from a frame
Steal the souls of nameless children
From terraced back-street slums
Let the vultures land near babies
Steal the moment, then just run
Just what is it that the pictures try to say?
Will they make a difference
At the ending of the day?
You can cover gallery walls
With your visual skill
As you suck your subjects dry –
Will you ever get your fill?
So, catalogue new anguish
Change your subjects every year
There’s no romance in someone’s hunger
No romance in catching fear
That’s etched on haunted faces
Or waifs with wide-starved eyes
To bolster reputations
And carry off the prize
Just what is it that the pictures try to say?
Will they make a difference
at the ending of the day? Y
ou can cover gallery walls
With your visual skill
As you suck your subjects dry –
Will you ever get your fill?
Life becomes a portrait
Feel no passion, feel no pain
Steal the souls of nameless children
From a terraced slumlord’s lane
Catalogue new anguish
Change your subjects every year
There’s no romance in someone’s hunger
Win those prizes catching fear
Let the vultures land near babies
Steal the moment, then just run
Feel no passion, feel no pain
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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4. |
Revolution Blues
03:21
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Revolution Blues
Now living in the crossfire
Is sometimes short on joy,
When there's trouble in the jungle
& they're giving guns to boys,
The planes just dropping packages
near mountain village huts,
& men sent out to look come home pine box short cuts.
The sovereignty of the kingdom's
never sacrosanct at best,
It's hardly worth a mention
when the region's in a mess.
When your next door neighbour's fighting,
Try to keep your own nose clean,
& clamp down on the peasants,
Need spare parts for the machine.
& it ain't getting no better
& the prince don't like the news,
That his subjects in the mountains,
Have got the revolution blues. Ah ha.
The lowland & the mountain men,
Just don't see eye to eye,
Great medium for cadres,
Just strike a match & watch sparks fly,
Let's swim across the river,
Find a place that's safe to hide,
l'ancien regime & look for helpful ties,
You see a girl who has no feet,
A child who's lost both arms,
& someone's mother copped it sweet
playing cards,
Find your local friendly Hilton,
& relax behind barbed wire,
You won't find any work 'round here,
There's no need to retire.
& It ain't getting no better
& the prince don't like the news,
That his subjects in the mountains,
Have got the revolution blues.
It's wandering down stranger streets,
& trying to make sense,
Of funny looking foreign signs
& national defence.
The mall is full of restaurants,
& workers walk the streets,
A land of opportunities
where peoples never meet.
Your children now eat sandwiches,
& change their style of dress,
Though all the shops look just like home,
Your world is in a mess.
Well the triads took the hostels,
Put protection on the stalls,
& now the common market,
is throwing up new walls.
Well it ain't getting no better
& the prince don't like the news,
That his subjects in the mountains,
Have got the revolution blues.
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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5. |
Solong Shuffle
06:05
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So Long Shuffle
Where's the ambassador,
look up into the sky.
He's gone from the roof,
and everybody knows why.
Big Huey takes him and
plucks him from death,
Name not on list?
Well, pal, save your breath.
Just like the old days,
bombs into the Timor Sea,
Public money slides of carriers,
Greetings Land of the Free.
People making Peace signs,
a new wave to ride on,
Hope they can hear me now
back where they come from
It's too bad,
there's a new administration,
Too bad,
someone else controls your nation.
It's too bad,
your trust was all in vain,
You know they didn't even give you a
lift out on the plane.
Napalm lovers plight their troth
and tumble in the fields,
Sow their seeds in the midday sun
and leave before they yield.
Napalm lovers kiss without lips
in someone else's war.
Bourgeois airlift to their ships
waiting for the thaw.
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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6. |
Full Circle
04:47
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Full Circle
The razor’s edge is getting even finer
You always try to walk the middle line
Swapping baubles for a country.
The gaudy trinkets lose their shine
Smooth the pillow, spread the blanket
Move the trouble makers out of town
Dreary nightmares on the outskirts
Visions flee from the people’s mind
Dreary nightmares on the outskirts
Visions flee from...
But is it better to live
& get your spirit from a bottle?
Or is it better to die,
Let your spilt blood feed the ground?
Is it better to live,
Shield you hope just like a candle,
Waiting for full circle,
As time turns back the tide?
Bitter struggles on the skyline
The clear sky flows through
the bloodshot tears.
The fights were long & draining
Warriors have long time broke their spears
Harsh separation from their mother
Breathing in a brave new home
Seems there’s no future in the future
And sparks of angst fly from the stone
Seems there’s no future in the future
The brave new world has tried & failed
But is it better to live &
get your spirit from a ?
Or is it better to die,
Let your spilt blood feed the ground?
Is it better to live,
Shield you hope just like a candle,
Waiting for full circle,
As time turns back the tide?
What’s a nation?
What’s a country?
Is there a choice anyway?
All the hope of conquered peoples
Have dried up & blown away.
Hissarlik & Maralinga,
Moruroa, Passchendaele.
Once more the country’s on a platter
To new logos we’ll all be nailed
Once more the country’s on a platter
The brave new world has tried & failed
So is it better to live
& get your spirit from a bottle?
Or is it better to die,
Let your spilt blood feed the ground?
Is it better to live,
Shield you hope just like a candle,
Waiting for full circle
As time turns back the tide?
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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7. |
Mercedes #1
03:48
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Mercedes #1
No chasing wild things through a jungle of bricks,
Doesn’t matter if the rains don’t come.
The sun beats harder here,
It darkens their perceptions,
But don’t they know Mercedes #1.
Running from the feeling of being nowhere,
Smell it in the streets, they just don’t care,
See the shadows move behind the curtain,
In the harsh sunlight people only stare.
Draping powdered monkeys on the palace walls,
Re-educating circles to fit square holes.
Ridding the streets of bourgeois vermin,
Hanging tattered remnants from sharp poles.
Technical college little men,
Crawling on the hallowed tube.
Mercedes #1 Mercedes #1
Makes for more fun
Than working in the sun
Climbing, climbing up the ladder
It’s so hard to hang on.
Mercedes #1 Mercedes #1 Mercedes #1
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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8. |
Sewer/Night Out
03:09
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Sewer/Night Out
Flange on the neon
Flange on the street
Real and constructed
Everyman’s treat
Bucking the system
Pleasure the night
Cocktails like molotovs
Get in a fight
Slashed with a razor
Stuck with a knife
Loosen the purse strings
Spend on the moon
Watching the sunrise
Look for a room
Roll in the gutter
Crawl amongst the stars
Throw up on NoBirds...
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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9. |
After The Burning
04:30
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After the Burning
And the pain is everlasting,
though I know it has no value.
And I’d dearly like to hold you,
but I know I’ll never reach out.
And the darkness is my blanket,
protection from the yearning.
And the wheels wind down
inside my head,
No longer are they turning.
And of promises never kept,
come the lesson I keep learning.
And my arms caress the lonely void
of all that remains
after the burning.
And the sun is always shining,
but I think it’s going nova.
And I long to see the faces,
through the fog that now surrounds me.
And I feel no more the anguish,
for the blood has ceased to flow there.
And dancing circles with shadows,
broken rhythm - never started.
And the darkness is my consort,
protection from the spurning.
And the wheels wind down inside my head,
no longer are they turning.
And of promises never made,
comes the crisis of returning.
And my arms caress the lonely void
of all that remains
after the burning.
And the darkness is my cover,
it asks nought of things concerning.
The wheels wind down inside my head,
no longer are they turning.
And my arms caress the lonely void
of all that remains
after the burning.
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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10. |
Kennedy Avalon
03:17
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KENNEDY AVALON
Jack locked Jackie in Camelot
Chaste, and always on view
While ploughing a furrow of privilege
With only the moneyed and few
Fame is dirty, sullies the night
Some croon stitched into a dress
Tongue-kissing power ends up dead on a bed
In another “need to know” mess
Pigs couldn’t fly when they stood eye to eye
On the shoreline, losing their chance
In its shadow today, Guantanamo Bay
Feeds the spawn of irrational stance
Daddy’s little soldier – shorts, jacket, saluting
As the caisson went rolling along
Backwards boots pointing, after the shooting
While stars through tears sing their songs
Everyone tells you they knew where they were
An ill wind they all thought was change
For the strings of a puppet can be cut at the whim
Of the true masters of the grange.
What can you do for your country?
Applaud, take the bait
Smile, style, from substance resile
The pumped-up always deflate
Yes, Jack locked Jackie in Camelot
Chaste, and always on view
While ploughing a furrow of privilege
With only the moneyed and few
In another need to,
‘nother need to know,
‘nother need to know mess.
Copyright: Berman Cochrane
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11. |
Eyes Wired Open
03:28
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Eyes Wired Open
You’re wearing yesterday’s raincoat
Safe from tomorrow’s rain
Impatient at today’s departure
Uncertainty goes against the grain
Dreams filled with euphemistic ghosts
Keep company with your fears
Revisit the separation
As the memories draw tears
Build a wall of mixed illusions
Thatch a roof with your decay
Make a mask of grand delusion
When there’s nothing left to say
You’ve nothing more to say.
Whisper softly to the darkness
Feel it lightly holding on
Taking comfort from the echo
Well, at least until it’s gone.
Build a wall of mixed illusions
Filling dreams with your decay
Make a mask of grand delusion
All the things we could not say
I reject them every day
Every morning there’s the promise
Every evening there’s the lack
Every moment there’s the prospect
That you won’t be coming back
Build a life of mixed illusions
Scent the world with your decay
Make a mask of grand delusion
When there’s nothing left to say
Just hope it will go away
Eyes wired open you still can’t see,
What was, what is & what will be.
Close your eyes & look around,
You won’t know what’s lost ‘til it’s found
Close your eyes & look around,
Build a wall of mixed illusions
Thatch a roof with your decay
Make a mask of grand delusion
When there’s nothing left to say
The world just won’t go away.
Why won’t it go away?
Copyright: Berman/Cochrane
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