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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of LaZY SHaRKs, Thorne Barbs - A Selection of Spoken Word, BROTHER CHARON, SPAR HORNET, The Lecher's Waltz, and Ryder Pales.
1. |
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BROTHER CHARON
Brother Charon move on,
Keep on rowin,
Down the Mississippi.
Make the beavers clear the sticks
that block your passage
Down to New Orleans.
Aint got no coin jus’ a Greyhound ticket!
Aint got no coin jus’ a Greyhound ticket!
Get that pole away from me.
I said get that pole away from me.
Shotgunin PBR’s
straight to Park Rapids,
I misplaced that Kalonopin,
Hope I didn’t leave it back in Pine River,
O wait a sec’ here it is,
But Jimmy where’s that discount liquor store?
Jimmy where’s that discount liquor store?
Where the hells that Dirty Dog?
What’s that pullin out of the lot?
Driver hold on, hold on, hold on,
Driver hold on, hold on . . .
Don’t tell me that I came too late!
Charon’s rowin fast an’ I must escape
from the debt I left unpaid
when I pawned my heart
for that key shaped screw
That spiral spiked elusive clue.
Driver hold on! I’m right here!
Just gotta take my pill––
Don’t worry, it’s only tobacco.
Four hours to Fargo ‘til
another standstill,
I hit the first bar from the stop.
Happy hour all nite long!
They got happy hour all nite long!
Beer pong championships,
Shot girls stumblin ‘round in thongs,
Plastic sharpened cougar claws,
Bouncers crackin badger paws,
Obese queens squealin through smudged lipstick!
Got those obese queens squealin through smudged lipstick!
Neon smoking room rhetoric,
Unaware heretics.
I gotta gotta gotta get away!
But I aint even travelled half of the way!
Speed me past the hollow holiday
resort of the heart,
Far from that ravished isle,
Where Charon corrals the piles.
Stayed in the bar too late.
Such a mistake to make.
Ya know I missed my bus?
Such a mistake to make.
Saved by a man in a flatbed truck!
Had .44 right there on the dashboard!
Caught up at the second stop,
A Conoco outside of Fargo.
A Conoco outside of Fargo.
There’s boxes of blood ‘neath the bus,
Hid in luggage up front.
I swear there’s boxes of blood ‘neath the bus, son,
Hid in luggage up front.
Hit the Jeam Bean splay out on the seats,
Sweet lil’ girl, sweet 16,
Had her lil’ titty right in my hand.
Deliver me to Billings.
Deliver me to Billings.
You know I gotta gotta gotta get away
from Brother Charon today.
You of the fleshpole and the coin toss,
Pushin on down that river of Styx,
I see you, I see your pole,
Scrappin up the mud to water,
I see you. I see you.
I said: Get that pole away from me!
Get that pole away from me!
Brother Charon!
Row on! Push off!
Brother Fleshpole, eyetrick!
Push off!
I said Charon row on!
Row on!
I said Brother Charon!
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2. |
SKULL DOWN
04:49
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SKULL DOWN
The brutal boys, the freshly shorn,
Don’t backstep now just keep on trudgin,
Right between their shit eatin teeth,
Plow on ‘til you reach yer destination.
Cut-off golf club is mighty fun,
Stapleguns are always handy,
Pocket knife a go to given,
Don’t you tell me you don’t have one!
You don’t have one?
Huh?
Massacre of mascara, don’t look twice it’s only Dolly,
Got pill jaw an’ heels on,
Lord help she it’s only Monday,
Spittin hicks in pickup trucks,
Shit kickin bilious lil’ bitches,
Pass on by, don’t even try,
You aint ape enough to monkey ‘round with this...
The boozy men, the over succoured babies,
See ‘em at the pub squelching it down,
Running amok with their flaccid flesh for fuck
Slurrin their words in gluttonous cockerel clucks.
Cluck it up.
Queers an’ steers shoot chagrin
into each glimpse they afford you,
Mark your prey gather light
deep down into your bloodstream.
Kiss yer fist before ya fight,
That way they’ll know you really mean it,
Thumbs beneath an’ knuckles tight,
Don’t forget to put yer shoulder behind it!
Make it snap an’ pull it back again,
Clap his ear with yer other cupped hand,
Grab hind his neck an’ take a deep deep step an’
raise up yer knee an’ pull that skull down!
Raise up yer knee an’
pull that skull down!
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3. |
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Baby Ray Ray
Take yer noose off take yer noose off honey,
This aint no waltz to swing like that,
Yer baby lies safe in the garden darlin,
Yer baby lies safe within his grave.
That aint a ghost babe hangin on the hangwire,
Jus’ an’ old tattered negligee,
Warm yer feet babe by the toothless fire,
Sing a song of Rain-Rain Go Away,
For Baby Ray Ray lain ‘neath the clay.
Baby Ray Ray, Baby Ray Ray,
Whiskey since you went away,
Baby Ray Ray, Baby Ray Ray
Ya hear the rain pound yer grave?
Don’t drag the drain babe take yer hooks out honey,
Ya won’t snag no angel that a way,
Bottomfeeders filthy mystics hover
‘mongst the puddles in alleyways.
Let yer tears out let ‘em pour out honey
to drench the dirt to seal the grave,
Put the stopper back in the bottleneck darlin,
You aint even hit your heyday,
Haven’t even learnt yet how to pray.
Baby Ray Ray, Baby Ray Ray,
Swear it aint him no it aint,
Baby Ray Ray, Baby Ray Ray,
Baby won’t ya come an’ play?
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4. |
Fingers & Tongues
04:21
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Fingers & Tongues
Loverspeak of casualties,
Abandoned on beds offshore,
Sheets the crests of lusty tides,
Salt preserves the corpse.
There aint much that you can do
once the fins rise ‘round the mattress,
You just hope they had a good haircut,
With tongues intact and no fingers amiss.
Lazy sharks in beauty salons,
Shredding buoyancy,
Tufts of hair in bloody bleach,
Tousled permanently in the wake of you.
I swam in just for a trim,
A shave and a bit of gossip,
When it was time for me to go
noticed her scissors were as sharp as my teeth.
She said: “Your gold’s no good ‘round here,
Your credit can’t shade the Sun,
Just be a man, and with your mouth and hands,
Pay me in fingers and tongues.”
I aint saying that I’m a Saint,
Of prophecy I stake no claim,
But I’ll proclaim along this waterfront!
That the surgery of God is butchery!
Pay me in fingers and tongues.
Pay me in fingers and tongues.
All sharks know you can’t eat an elephant whole,
Ya got to nibble it, bit by bit.
It’s hard to do, without a tongue,
Missing digits don’t help for shit.
So spare a thought for us lazy sharks
trying hard to stop swimming,
Who simply want to go,
Where fins don’t show,
and daggered teeth can quit grinning.
Out on the waves I see your bedposts,
Four masts rocking, starting to sink,
And they all come swimming towards you!
Jaws gnashing the splashes of no ascent!
Pay me in fingers and tongues.
She said: Pay me in fingers and tongues.
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5. |
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Black Coffee
I’m off to drink black coffee,
All the stallions have been found,
An’ that waitress in the diner sure has a way with her.
The insect splattered window
maps out my destiny,
The headlites blithely smolder
the highway’s recipe.
I used to be a wino,
Not jus’ a wino I’s a drunk,
‘Til Mary tapped my shoulder
an’ droughted out my tongue,
An’ though the whiskey screams that she wants me
to lick her ‘til she comes,
I sit discreet an’ sip coffee mutterin curses into my cup.
They used to love my body
when I was young an’ thin,
They feasted on my hunger,
They lapped my frail limbs in,
Now I’ve past my prime the portions are barely sufficient,
To keep me scuttlin through the sun ‘til nite comes crashin in.
There was a girl I fancied,
So lithe an’ porcelain sheik,
She stole me to her apartment
an’ laid me on silk sheets,
She wound herself in tourniquets
an’ invited me to feed,
An’ since that feast there’s not a beast that can possibly satisfy me.
Yes, they used to buy my body,
When my cheeks were still a treat,
An’ I pleased the lap of many a man
on the streets of New Orleans
An’ I traded my prime for slugs of wine,
For the price of a needle’s sleep,
Now I scry inside the eye of every ol’ man that I chance to meet on the street,
Lest it be the beady blink of some wilted ol’ trick
who use to fuck me in his kitchen sink.
Kiss me like I’m a rich man,
As if you weren’t a whore,
Just come an’ lay beside me,
I won’t hurt you anymore,
Your skin caries the pigment of one I used to love,
Jus’ come an’ lie beside me, I swear you won’t wake up.
Best take good care of your daughters,
Best drench them in the lite,
Though you want to grant them freedom
It’s better they’re locked inside,
For the moon it waxes before it wanes
‘til it’s a star pocked vacant nite,
An’ there are no lunar boundaries
that can control my appetite.
I’m off to drink black coffee,
All the stallions have been found,
An’ that waitress in the diner sure has a way with her,
The insect splattered window
maps out my destiny,
The headlites blithely smolder
the highway’s recipe.
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Rasp Thorne Berlin, Germany
Rasp Thorne is a writer, musician and performer based in Berlin.
Current musical
projects: DRUCKS, CHAGRIN, Silk Rut (Berlin)
Previous bands include: Rasp Thorne & the Briars, LaZY SHaRKS (London) Ryder Pales, and SPAR HORNET (NYC)
Along with solo songs he has also recorded poetry extensively.
'Etched in the Ether', a collection of lyrics, is available now through CHAGRIN PRESS
... more
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