The Loners

by Dead Cinema

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Novelty Act 03:52
Kill Time 04:58
In the secret flicks In grainy midnights Might find yourself a friend In the beginning or the middle But mostly just the end It's a cock-eyed caravan It's a tiny flea circus The crabs even know a trick And all the clowns in this clown car wreck Wear blood red indelible lipstick Kill time, See a movie Delivered the last rent check Lookin so pasty and pale After killing time in the old vault Killing time in jail Silent sin emerges Through a back door In a haunted old pawn shop Lights are dimmed on the jungle gyms, mannequin limbs and hyms to her The orchids don't look good And the humans are horrified By signs of human traits They need exotic consultance But they're too fashionably late Normal Love They made their mistake when they let you live And the only friends left Were only around because They weren't through with you yet Well this aint so short And it aint so sweet (Aint so sweet) This aint so short (Aint so short) And it aint complete 'Cause could it be? (could it be?) They all got in the way (We all got in the way) So you pushed them away Well did they get in the way of you getting away with your own murder? Kill time, see a movie
When the little people come When the little people come you might like the light but they don't like the sun when the little people come when the little people come scatter shiny things cause they're not scared of guns when the little people come when the little people come better hide up all your pickles better stock up on your rum when the little people come when the little people come it won't be any fun when the little people come when the little people come..... better step on the gas Better drive away fast when the little people come when the little people come you got something to say save it for election day when the little people come when the little people come just whatever you do just don't get down on your knees when the little people come when the little people come when you talk to the trees put a good word in for me pretty pretty pretty please pretty pretty pretty please When the little people come i been a bad man But this shit is out of hand when the little people come when the little people come there'll be another job for you it depends on who you screw when the little people come when the little people come The bedbugs don't pay rent Because they're heaven sent when the little people come when the little people come The password will be mum When the little people come when the little people…. you can try and make peace they're unstable and they're fickle
Ol' Pompeii 05:45
Ol' Pompeii He's a hollow shell of a man with disinfected hands washing dishes in the depths of Ol' Pompeii Down the street & around back, you'll catch sight of him through a crack in the alley that was seemingly hacked just yesterday Nobody asks him what he thinks if he picks his head up from the sink, Gina, the winsome waitress won't deign to look his way Replicating bliss, to nostalgia for what we missed, just behold this miracle that descended to your plate, Never mind what it is you want, all is chaos on the Front, your whole existence just the start of the charade Remember to take that into account as you're descending from the mount, check in hand to check what you got paid The mass confusion is alarming, the carnage is disarming, just so you'll catch the flak for the Gods' mistakes, The fact that anything gets served is a covenant to be observed, a kindly dispensation for the slaves Hey! The fish were frozen in their pens for the wages of their sins & half eaten so they head back out to sea The ordnance all washed clean, the leaden scratches of defeat, scars along the land of woken dead, fawning after stars, bewildered by the day, we go traipsing through the traffic on the Appian Way Lungs burning in the smog just so all these idiots can keep their jobs, it's probably nicer down there in the putrid sewer drains Werner Von Braun in his Mercedes benz, Sparticus is back and he's looking pretty fuckin pissed Il Duce & Ezra Pound are going through the lost & found, they've got a purple dress & a couple of those Burger King crowns…. I'm sure everyone'd be proud with the way things turned out, the devout shall never openly venture to venture doubt, They've come back to make amends, even the Good Shepard is wanting in, but all that's gonna happen is getting crucified again They wanted Rome but hey it's Ol' Pompeii Vesuvio's ashen and gray Vegas in the rain where nothing goes to waste When the world was young O in our native tongue We sang a very old song But we got the words very wrong You've gotta work your way up from a washer to a cook, to a busser to a waiter to a host You could be sommelier, we could have one one day, we need someone to rebottle the wine that's leftover anyway But you could never work enough to compete against those puffs, & by the way No. 3 wants their order to go, It's just a service we provide, now get your ass back on the line, you've got a chance to prove that you can hold your own You know I'll tell you what, the food in Rome really kinda sucks, it's more the girls and all the wine and sultry air, I go there every year but I'd rather sit around here drinking beer, but I trust you'll hold down the fort while I'm away, You better button up your shirt and stand straight and clean that stain, these nice old people don't want you looking like a crazed knave Hey what can I say, I've seen a thing or two in my day, fuck it this is ain't Rome, it's Ol' Pompeii! Hey! It ain't Rome, it's Ol' Pompeii It's just a way to keep the hounds at bay we're all headed into the fray There's no reason to feel dismayed Rome wasn't built in a day But it burned overnight Or so the oracles on the corner say Tell me who mans the curtain Down in Ol' Pompeii? Now Gina glides by with a twinkle in her eye, the clouds are parting in the suffocating night, She says "This is just temporary, i'm gonna be an actor named Gary by silver or crook or letters or lights…," or whatever, The thread on which these things hinge was fatally impinged, & our hero's flesh was melting on the flame, When in Rome, wasn't built, hacked to death, burned to the hilt, they got your money you got your fantasy, & the morning comes exhorting, but you've blown your wages while out cavorting Trying to wind up exactly anywhere but where you are Let me give you some advice, a hobo's got nine lives, but they might not last much longer than a day Everybody who was anybody sat right there where you're standing writing a song or a ballet or a novel or a play Course that was before we franchised, & everything got sanitized, oh well whatever, it'll never be like it was back in the day Now the kids sit around gaming and gaining pounds, and all the artists are bureaucratic knaves Hey!
Jim’s gone native, he’s severed all his ties The things that we fall back on, he will not abide A hex upon humanity, like palm trees in our fries Like a dumpster full of legos all covered in flies   Out from the cloister, exposing sacred mounds Finally got the birds out on the hunting ground If the American won’t shut up, we can cut her vocal chords, The mind will still be tainted but its for esprit de corps… ………… Day One: I lost my gun, and I lost my shit. I'll yell if I want to yell! Nobody panic! (Nobody panic!) We’re dead if we panic…   Day Two: I know it’s fated, it’s genetically inclined, Rationed all the wine, not an animal in sight, The tribes migrated to another point in time   Like computers do it better and all those car alarms Gambling in the desert, concentration camps for farms Bill was ambidextrous until he went and ate his arms He’s working on a new plan, but surviving on his charms  ……………………. Day Five: Kyoko and Mizuki have been eaten alive By some kind of bug with rows of panda eyes I tried to save them, but they wouldn’t stop screaming… Day Thirty-four: Hope is just a joke anymore We might make it out, but whatever for? Casualties mounting, but who the hell’s counting   Same Day: Don’t respond to Christian names. A grunt or a groan, it all winds up the same, When nobody knows you it's a different kind of fame …… ……..  If you only let it out, once in a great while It’s only natural for the mind to run wild When you're twirling through the air with eyes full of rage The key is in the weather not in this mortal cage ………………………………… Delphine better stay awake, or I’m gonna skin her hide The rest will form a caravan and I’ll slowly eat their eyes We’ll have to cross the desert where the spirit world resides Wish I’d of brought that jerky and some of those pudding pies ………………………....  With these broken clock around our necks we'll be kings off with our heads cause time has lost it's wings ….. Nothing ever turns out the way it's supposed to be just because we're lost don't mean it's not intentionally instr. ……………………………….. Day Eight: I wouldn't exactly call it a mistake! We’re all composed of the same things! I'll find a baboon troupe! Have five wives! Eat banana soup!   Day Something: When the camera’s running, you’re running for your life Shut your rain trap and I’ll put away the knife!   Day, wait!….: The hour’s late—interpretation would be a mistake. The memory is notoriously flawed. I am what it is. It is what I am.   Like oil to the oceans, antacid to the sky, The shaman’s all cranked up, with a bible for his bride We buried Chantel in her gorilla disguise, She’ll prolly call collect from the afterlife If it's in the name of research, it's not exactly crime Later generations can call it what they like You know Jim will take issue with your occidental views We'll see if you can justify spreading the news Jim’s gone native, he’s seen through all our lies Jim’s gone native he’s severed all his ties
In this land of wounded narcissists And all the inferior minds he finds himself amidst The archangels are slumming it & getting pretty lit You can be sure no one here will submit to the bit This is where you go to learn to fight Where the art of war is in the blindside You got no time to sit & analyze Your senses are hallucinatory lies This where most blokes learns to die We'll be crawlin in the gutter hand over fist This ain't no sapphic exploitation or idealistic tryst Or the conspicuous presumption rife throughout the land Or any horoscopic new age bullshit man Well it could be cancer, could just be a cyst When all the poets turns pussy, he insists Someone has to point out what the other cads miss & for that they call him the karaoke killer Most of my revelations are just filler But every now and then I come up with a gem …………….. So if you're on a schedule & you're looking for something profound Get a gun at the Walmart and take it into town The slingers of Singapore, the Navarrone Literate society just tryin their best to get stoned (((Yuppie motherfuckers entranced by their phones In the midst of a headlong foray into the unknown))) I'll see you back in the cave during the solar storm Course someone might say it was all done before By some bad motherfucker in some far off war But this ain't no hagiography by some poor bastard ain't never learned to read Lean on the street like a coyote through steam A paperback of Thucydides in the back pocket of his jeans (his dungarees) This ain't no fashionista folderol This is the testament scrawled in the wall Regrets, you could say he's had a few If you could say a wild beast dreams of walkin on the moon You'll prolly have some of your own before the night is through Better get out while you can, before you're yesterday's news He's got a poker face like a 3rd degree burn, so call his bluff if you thinks it's unearned You might get burned tooooooooo!!! And if you doooooooooooooooooo!!!!! Remember to cry when you wanna cry and laugh ...when we tell you tooooo!!!!!!! Most of my revelations are just filler But every now and then-- as if by some farcical whim, On an ancient barque borne by a fickle wind ...I come up with a gem …………… Don't do no truck with the changing mores The lauds of heroes is nothing but a bore Don't believe it's cliche to wind up on the floor The virtuous underneath are nothin but whores Sniffin chimeric promises and rhinoceros horn Prowlin the streets out lookin for a score Into history he's walkin, the realm of lore Got 16 groupies sleeping on the front lawn Every drug known to man from dusk till dawn Nobody thought he'd live this long He's been somewhere in his 50's for like 16 years the strippers pay him to sit in the bar Japanese girls send him cars Got his motherfucking hair all slicked back Had 16 mothafuckin heart attacks His pants so tight he don't walk no more Just stands spitting out the window on the 16th floor The vagaries of madness just a line in my hand The fate of the world in a cloudy grain of sand Cops might have authority in some distant regime But here it's the word reigns supreme
Jackie Sez 03:53
In an innerstate motel 'nother set of sheets need changin Brain-stained array shaped like a J Not a drop on Jackie's clothes Never know when you're in the know All growed up no place to go (oh jackie oh) Maybe I'll wear your polka dot dress Dot and cross a perfect mess Bristle a feather in my crest In a car that runs on bad luck Don't take long to run amok New queen of ol' orleans (Jackie! Jackie!) Maybe I'll checker in black and white Or maybe I'll don the dusk tonight Maybe I'll dress like Rochambeau Or maybe an invisibility cloak Jackie ripper made six figures Didn't pay his taxes on time Dropped a nickel and it rolled into a dime Maybe you'll see me there tonight & maybe you won't Maybe I'll see you there but you won't see me Maybe we'll see a little more of ourselves & a lot less of what we're wearing Remains to be seen... Jackie Ripper was a drifter syphoned a gallon to get out of town hit it up down in Mexico (Jackie No! Jackie No!) Jackie Ripper was a hell of a tipper silver pound for every round for the wenches down in Ol' Hades 120 in the shadies maybe maybe if you are lucky (jackie says jackie says) Maybe it's the mercury in my hat maybe its a belfry full of bats maybe it's just something i do maybe i'll do it to you Jackie Rippppa


"In this land of wounded narcissists….."

Dead Cinema's second, unforgotten-for-never-having-been noticed ode to the imitation of life, The Loners, is more burlesque, perhaps preoccupied stylistically with lampooning anti-hero icons, or iconicity itself, albeit in Dead Cinema's short form of tradition, goofily and self-reflexively removed from the characters and genres alluded to (assuming they exist), and more rambunctious than their premier. Walk-ons continue to be welcome. But let's not get ahead of yourselves. After all the gabbing is done, as if taking the rubric literally, Dead Cinema's second LP starts with appropriateur extrodinaire Mr. Strange crooning a paean to Jack Smith in the more sensitive, foreboding territory where Portmanteau left off. Steadily, the mania escalates from there. Mr. Breeden and Ms. Johanne are on shore leave again, employing the old whimsically deplorable moral relativism to festive result, summing things up with a demented spiritual in the land of their fathers' sepulchers.

If nothing else can be generalised amid the declivitous slide of planetary empire, it's arguably that the great tragedy could lie in the subtlety that is lost in the face of sectarian wrangling and the attendant more pressing concerns of a diminishing biosphere. Or that everybody's just so damn full of themselves. In any case, Dead Cinema was waiting for the call, but it never came. Maybe they should've gotten a phone. But, at the end of the day, when it comes down to it….when your back's against the wall, when push comes to shove, when you're in a crowd of howling, obese, shall we courteously call them, formerly ladies….


released March 12, 2013

All songs by Dead Cinema 2013©®™☤☢


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