Spots Change Sunday

from by Siberian Death Crash



The stripes are shifting but the spots don’t change
Always then, they’ll soon be claiming they’ve been born again
Lets work together for a common gain
Celebrate the sneaky feeling that the dread remains

We're gathering pace
Sweltering necks in dog collars
What a waste of space
They're getting away with murder case by case

We soldier on
There's still a lingering tension
Fuelling all the bombs
Drone on
We got Caligula crying out
For all we've done
You little sods
You descend from the heavens
Cursing all your Gods
I curse alone
I’m the man in the middle
Chewing on the bones

Displaying symptoms of the modern age
Is this it? A three-bed semi and a living wage
The clock is ticking there’s a setting sun
And then the shadows come out, stick to everyone

The ace in the hole
Finding a place that let’s you feel at home
Lost souls
Will congregate but always feel alone

On the dog and the bone
Forever searching for something
The sad soul-sucking tone
Changes of pace
These are the times that remind us
We’re all the human race
Chopping up bones
When we’re dead in the ground, god knows,
We just fill space
So preach all you know
We’re all persuading the next man
We’re a special case

Something in the air, an angst that bores right through me
I know precisely why i'm worried
Perfectly well why I’m maladjusted

Hypocrisy is currency in current climates
We satirise to make them silly
But they’re bedded in and they're sitting pretty

What a shame to put it down to English folly
Lords and ladies looking jolly
Oh so I’m the numpty? I’m the wally?

X don’t mark the spot; in truth it’s just a warning
I'm sensing there's a higher calling
Goading me from beyond finality


from The Trojan Cow LP, released May 26, 2016




Siberian Death Crash Manchester, UK

Mates making music and films in Manchester, UK.

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