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Madmanmind: Issue #1

by Madmanmind

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1.
Drop D Songs 02:13
It's not about the money, About boring politics, Or bullshit higher morals. It's not about the fashion, Some new brand of fascism, Dubbed social liberation. It's not about love or hate, It's not about the future, It sure as hell ain't about the past. It's all about this feeling, This sensation of impending, Unknown fear that just keeps on growing. The things I don't understand, The shit filled ones we used to call friends, This whole stinking generation. It's not about the music else I wouldn't be writing, Simple three-chords meaningless Drop D songs, And singing ''La la la la la la''. My self taught anarchism, My own survival mechanism, And I ain't got much left to give. So close your eyes and swallow, The lies, the beer, as you grow, Old, angry and dumb. I'm sorry if I'm a bummer, For not climbing that ladder, I would, but I'm just too drunk. I wish you'd turn down the music, That party's been going for too long, And it's been ruining my sleep. I guess I could call the cops, To come and crash your fun, But I just don't like guns. Which turned out to be a problem, When you feel like shooting yourself one, Right between the eyes. I've been trapped down in the sewers, That smell ain't getting any better, And you're never coming down. I guess I'm just a little jealous, But not quite jealous enough, To write a better song.
2.
Fear 02:36
Stay away, stay away, from this haunted house, Many ghosts and monsters crawling in the dark, They're gonna hunt you down, They're gonna eat you alive, They're gonna make you scream, They're gonna make you cry, Stay away, stay away, from the sins of the flesh, Or the inquisition is gonna get you, You sinner, you murderer, you Satan spawn, The army of the damned is walking through the town. What a filthy, filthy place, Filled with, filled with, filled with hate, Run boy you gotta run before the policeman reaches the gun. What a scary, scary place, Filled with, filled with, filled with hate, Run boy you gotta run before the policeman reaches the gun. All your friends and families are hanging around, By the neck, by the neck, in a faraway town, So feed me, feed me, my little people, And fear, oh fear the voices of God.
3.
I woke up, And switched on the TV, There was something wrong, And it caught my attention. Then the guy on the news, He just said to me, It's the end of the world, Jesus is back and he's angry. So I went to the kitchen, To check on the children, My wife was there, She was starring through the window, She said ''Hey baby, why is the sky all red?'', I said ''it's the end of the world'', ''Lock the door and come back to bed''. It feels like I'm dreaming, And everyone's flying, The world, it's crumbling, And I'm stuck here dying. Then Jesus, He walked through the door, well he really ''kicked'' it down, That got my attention, He just starred at us, With his sunglasses on, It was real scary, The guy was holding a shotgun, So we ran to the bedroom, Locked the door, We hid the children, In a room under the floor, My wife turned and said, ''Are we gonna die now?'', I said ''I wish I knew baby, But I just can't figure it out''. It feels like I'm dreaming, And everyone's flying, The world, it's crumbling, And I'm stuck here dying. Then I woke up again, And my wife was there, She was sleeping, she was cute, I held for a while. Then I went to see the children, They were fine, still sleeping, So I switched on the TV, It was early in the morning, There was nothing on the news, Just some poor people starving, And a guy from Montreal, Found a dead girl in a parking, Then my came in and said, ''You're already up baby?'' I said ''There's something wrong, I think jesus just told me''. It feels like I'm dreaming, And everyone's flying, The world, it's crumbling, And I'm stuck here dying.
4.
Old Man 03:44
With nothing to lose in his life, And a forty-five, He walked alone in the cold night, Looking for the killer of his lovely wife. And with a gun in both hands, Riding a horse in the desert sands. Running away with his twenty-six thousand, worth of gold piece life. Or with the sword of his father, And ambition in his eyes. The young man sailed his boat, With a skull drawn upon his black flag. These are all lovely ways to die. A dying man in his bed, Who had a very long life, Singing a song in his head, About a little less lonely way to die. With shields in their hands, Lost warriors in foreign lands, They beat the drums as they stood, On the walls of Jerusalem. Branded enemies of the state, Fighting for a better day, Men and Women without faces, Facing uniforms and shields on this very dark day. And a fool he was called, Fighting for the rights of all, ''I have a dream'' he proclaimed, As he stood without fear, forever tall. These are all lovely ways to die. A dying man in a cell, Who had a very short life, Singing a song in his head, About a little less violent way to die.
5.
La Route 03:43
Comme le ciel est recouvert, D'un manteau teinté de fer, Et la terre grisée de cendres. Et comme elle prise dans les flammes, Qui vinrent réchauffer son âme, Et son corps grisé de cendres. Sous le poids de mon baguage, Je marche vers les rivages, Sur cette route grisée de cendres. Elle sera comme dans mes rêves, Douce et bleue berçant la terre, Sous le ciel grisé de cendres. Sur la route grisée de cendres... (x4) Sur le sol gisent les corps, Des oiseaux chantant la mort, D'une tristesse grisée de cendres, Et les hommes rôdent en silence, Comme des bêtes armées de lances, Et leurs âmes grisées de cendres. Ils ne connaissent plus l'amour, Et s'entre-tuent tous les jours, De leurs mains souillées de cendres. Et les faibles dévorés, Par les forts affamés, Et leurs corps grisés de cendres. Sur la route grisée de cendre... (x4) Je me tiens sous un orage, La pluie frappe mon visage, Sur le sable grisé de cendre. Rêvant ma douce prise dans les flammes, qui vinrent réchauffer son âme, Et son corps grisé de cendres. Sous le poids de mon baguage, J'ai marché jusqu'aux rivages, Sur cette route grisée de cendres. Et je regarde la mer, Berçant tristement la terre, Loin de mes rêves, Grisés de cendres. Sur la route grisée de cendres... (x4)

credits

released September 24, 2014

All songs written and performed by Madmanmind
Recorded by Brokeass Recording
Mixed and mastered by Pi Cutler at Hobbit Studios
Album art by AMM

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Madmanmind Montreal, Québec

Dark folk punk Montreal-based duo.

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