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Like Lies To Children

by Pygmy Beat

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    With the album you get the following freebies:
    Lyric sheet.
    Who, when, what, where and why details of recording.
    PLUS a video of Gimli's Lament.
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1.
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
2.
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
3.
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
4.
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
5.
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
6.
Full Circle 04:47
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
7.
Mercedes #1 03:48
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
8.
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
9.
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
10.
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
11.
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

about

The Pygmy Beat album has, finally, arrived.
Songs about the events and neighbours, (like the abandonment of Vietnam, Year Zero in Cambodia and the revolution in Laos), that have helped shape Australia since the 1970s as well as tracks about mental health, JFK, fantasy novels and bushfires.

credits

released October 1, 2013

Pygmy Beat are Terry Berman and ray cochrane with invaluable assistance from RAMI, Greg Loyacano, Gerry Steele, Miriam Webb/Stavert, Marc Cornelis and Kim Cochrane.

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Pygmy Beat Cooran, Australia

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