The Loners

by Dead Cinema

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"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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Track Name: Kill Time
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
Track Name: When The Little People Come
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
Track Name: Ol' Pompeii
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


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!


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

Track Name: Jim's Gone Native
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


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
Track Name: Karaoke Killer
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
Track Name: Jackie Sez
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