Snowglobe

by Sweetverbs

Snowglobe cover art
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1.
02:14
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2.
02:56
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3.
01:33
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4.
01:17
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5.
02:58
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6.
01:53
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7.
03:00
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8.
01:22
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9.
02:52
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10.
04:17
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11.
02:48
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12.
01:37
info
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about

I stared working on this album in late July 2009 and finished it in the early hours of 4th September.
The music was almost entirely improvised at the time of recording, and the lyrics came from poems and prose that I've had lying about for months.
Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this (COMPLETELY FREE) album. There should be another within the next 6 months!
Lots of love,
SVx

credits

released 07 September 2009
all lyrics & music written and performed by sweetverbs

tags

tags: folk hip hop indie electronic Edinburgh

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all rights reserved

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Track Name: erotic wit
I guess social decomposition
might seem like a buzzword - (a joke) -
until you find yourself, down the line,
masturbating to the bouncing Windows(TM) logo
at three o’clock on Sunday morning.

Your concentration will wane
and you’ll be shocked back to square one
by a messenger-nudge.

The teevee will scream: “Hate
wasted climaxes?
Then this is the end
for you!”

---------

Maybe
you shouldn’t hedge your bets
before the first hurdle. Trips are
not so rare -

and that stain is for life.
That stains for life.

Will wrinkled-you look back on it
with fondness, or: as a blemish
on an otherwise ‘used-like new’ body?
Track Name: treeman
Horns, calm as nature, they resemble;
tet brutal, invasive.
Encasing, preventing touch.

Will you learn to feel without learning to caress?

And to think
we are so self involved,
though our world feels small.
We are but ants to the colossus
that judges, that chooses.

In some countries they would pray to you;

we push coppers into slots
and wait our turn to gawp.


Your leaves
leave us in such a position
as to hold hands with loved ones
and close our eyes and just wish,
rooted to the spot.

We hum messages of hope to the wrong gods
because we’ve never needed anyone before.
But you brought us together

and never again will we branch off.


We’ll see you in our dreams
and we’ll see you while dreaming
and we’ll see you in our dreams.
Track Name: ...as an earthly god
You step from the grass back
into the house and your socks make fat slug
slaps against the linoleum. The caked mud
disgusts her. Early on, your smile
disarms.

“Can’t stay angry with you.”
But she will

in the future. “Maybe when pigs fly”
she’d joke. But



nobody tells jokes anymore.
Track Name: built for speed
See signs, a sight for sore eyes -
I am, I am, I am an elephant brain-cell.
Alive and well. Well swell!
I hope you understand the words
as they spill, from the vein filled
half clasped trap that would not kill.
But inhumane, the same weight that strained
and pulled against the muscles of a
doctor. Doctor, liberate the snake
tongued kid who drove a stake
through the heart of the mother-daughter relationship chain.
Chained up, and hope to god we changed the chains up.
We changed the rules and roll up the windows
Closed the doors but rolled up the windows.

See signs, sweet verbs and lies.
I do, I do, I do see a mousetrap
crawling cautiously this way. That
most verbose of comments meant
nothing to you, but all to me.
Alternatively, ask nothing more
but leave sore, begging for answers.
Closure! Close your eyes and feel the sigh
as the pressure lifts and we roll up the windows.

Too true to be true,
good God and you can see his smile
you say, every Sunday in a strange way.
Suspicions arise, and I lay waste
to innocence, do you believe, still?
Will I still let the sky fall?
Will I still be sitting under the largest piece?
It cashes in on crashing. Hello,
and goodbye, sky, I had a good run.

It was nice being known for knowing nothing.
Track Name: treespeak
At the end of autumn the trees began to speak
again.
They started with the root
words and allowed them to branch out
into a rich and full language.

Before long they had invented poetry
and as we walked near
- but never in! -
the forest each night we could hear them
reciting haikus to the squirrels:

“Oh, to be human!
What a disastrous and cruel
punishment for them.”

Yes, they were always as smug. Until,
that is, the village men
took up their torches and burned the forest down.
Track Name: the air
Did you think you could walk along the line?
Did you think your toes would catch the sand?
Did you let the sea water wash it off?
Did you let the salt invade your hands?

Could you pile the rules and light a match?
Did you pick the shoes to join the dance?
Are you still a broken little verb?
Could you still be blind and unaware?

Did you think it was me?

Did an invisible rule laid out quite clear
Confuse the careful balance here?
Or could you count in a fist the fights you had
and on the other the names that make you mad?

Did you cut the wire that’s blown the fuse?
Did you cut the brakes so as not to lose?
Or was it animalistic urge to kill?
Or was it animalistic loss of will?

Did you think it was me that lit the match?
Could you line up the glove to make the catch?
Or is it better to click and hope for film?
Is it better to pause out on a limb?

Did you think it was me?
Track Name: cityspeak
Winters, more passed.
Over time the charred wood
was replaced with steel and glass.
The foliage linguists
supplanted by the concrete groan;
mechanical hiss.
This was progress.

Blame someone else
for dousing the stars with rainwater.
Blame someone else
for the storm.

Though we’ve got nothing on you
I will still be planting kisses
wherever they will grow.
Though we’ve got nothing on you
you will still forgive me, hoping
that I will let you know.

Sun lingered, but
burned badly broken bones
left uncovered.
The steam shocked us
by shouting praise to the
sun above,
this was progress.

Blame someone else
for dousing the stars with saltwater.
Blame someone else
for the storm.

Though we’ve got nothing on you
I will still be planting kisses
wherever they will grow.
Though we’ve got nothing on you
you will still forgive me, hoping
that I will let you know.
Track Name: the i
Forgive me for falling short.

Forgive me for letting you down,
blame the trees for the sound
of collapsing alone. Stop and breathe!

Forgive me for following trends.
Take the words then amend
the order, change what they mean.

Forgive me,
bad taste!

Forgive me for losing the view.
Is your head screwed up too?
We’ve got lots of time to compare.

Forgive me for all of my sins;
I don’t mean to befriend
all the words that make life seem unfair.

Forgive me,
bad taste!
Track Name: divorce party (1)
You locked us out,
cornered yourself
behind dimly lit shots
of foreign film stars.

Did they connect
in other ways?
Concern yourself
with feeling more human.

Bleak though it is,
the driving force
must be driven
from...

You said you’d changed
but stayed the same
in our eyes
Track Name: unturn
Be beside yourself with joy!
If you’re not sure
keep your weapons away.
Are you not sore?

“I am hate.”
I shall be renamed,
of course.

Finally the filming of apocalypse
begins to shock the collarless,
The masses, campaigning middle classes.
Congratulations on your fourth step. Forget
that anything was ever said
close your eyes and go ahead.
I guess

I am closing up for
a harsher winter.
Raindrops freeze on your eyelids.

I am closing up for
Ever

Can quiet break
your hardened state?

Be beside yourself with joy!
If you’re not sure
keep your weapons away.
Are you not sore?

“I am hate.”
I shall be renamed,
of course
"I am saved",
I am to be praised -
of course.
Track Name: jürgen krüger's jazz funeral
I need a metronome to masturbate
because my timing’s just that off.
I been spitting awkward words in syncopated verse
until I feel my brain cut off.

I need another voice to speak these lines
because I choke on all my words.
That’s the most pathetic piece of shit I’ve heard -
and could someone fetch a nurse?

Because I’ve been self medicating for far too long
and I need someone to make the call
to a nearby vet - tell them to bring their nets
and catch me when I fall.

I need my own parade. Who’s willing to operate?
because there’s something growing inside.
I say hello to my parasite,
and hello to the end of my life.

And from another plane I’ll wave goodbye again
because the first time wasn’t too loud.
And since I’m a nervous wreck, it’s about time I checked
if you can even hear me now

I may try to inhale, don’t know if I’m dead or just stale
so I’ll see what happens next.
Watch you ignite hell’s flames with a drinking game.
I guess that fails the test.

So will I go back to my seat and spend eternity
as a soul in awful pain?
Or will I plant new seeds, rewrite history
and try to talk to you again?

I guess I’ve got one last chance to stand up and dance
and challenge death at his own game -
put my hands in the air, eyes wide and declare
“I’m a mess, and I lay no claim.”