Get all 10 Joe Bailey releases available on Bandcamp and save 40%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Splinters, Devil in the White City, Holmes Sweet Holmes, Ghosts, Waiting, Less Than Nothing, A Price To Pay, Nightingale, and 2 more.
1. |
Full Frontal Eulogy
08:05
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Iām sorry, who the hell are you?
Why must I swallow your tongue?
Iām not here for an interview,
Yet youāre here to flap your restless gums,
Youāre telling me just how I should think and feel.
You are wrong and Iām not right.
I can say whatever I like.
You want to squat inside my head,
And pinch and prod the cerebrum.
Millions of minds are force-fed,
But I wonāt let you in, youāre uninvited,
I donāt care how you live or who you are, you act like Iām benighted,
Stop telling me just how I should think and feel.
You are wrong and Iām not right.
I can say whatever I like.
You want a democracy,
Yet you donāt want to hear me speak.
Youāre so offended, and this world is demented.
What happened here? Where did we go wrong?
I disappear and hide myself in this song.
I am not out to get you,
I just donāt need to get you.
And I donāt want to upset you,
But you make it hard for me to forget you,
Youāre incarcerating brains far and wide and weāre supposed to let you?
Stop telling me just how I should be.
You are wrong and Iām not right.
I can say whatever I like.
You want a democracy,
Yet you donāt want to hear me speak.
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2. |
Matricide
08:29
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Mother Nature is growing old and bitter,
We are squeezing the life out of her.
Eden rolls in tortured souls; we will fly and break the sky.
We donāt care enough; weāve fixed our home in handcuffs.
But she has had enough and she will self destruct.
Father Time is a clicking, ticking time bomb,
We are piercing the fabric of life.
Our desires cause endless fires; we ignore the word and choke the world.
We donāt care enough; weāve fixed our home in handcuffs.
But she has had enough and she will self destruct.
Weāre addicted, unrestricted executioners.
Weāre destructive, reproductive eradicators.
Weāll be there to spoil the air; we paint the town and watch it drown.
We donāt care enough; weāve fixed our home in handcuffs.
But she has had enough and she will self destruct.
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3. |
I, Myself and Me
06:14
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If I looked at you would you be concerned?
Would you run for miles in terror?
Say goodbye from me.
If I greet you here on this gracious walk,
Would you hang your jaw in horror?
Iām a tragedy.
āCause if I donāt know you and if you donāt know me,
Then why would we embarrass ourselves?
Head down, eyes on feet.
And I will hope to see no more than two or three
Other people in this jungle,
I, Myself and Me.
Take a good long look at this open book,
Thereās a page for not giving a single fuck.
Iāve not read it yet but Iām almost there,
Because time is thin and so is my hair.
Take a good long look at this open book,
Thereās a page for not giving a single fuck.
Iāve not read it yet but Iām almost there,
So there is no time for you to stop and stare.
Iād rather cross the road than walk beside you here,
I donāt hear what you are saying.
My ears are occupied.
Iām colder and Iām numb the older I become,
This whole world is agitating,
My brain is liquefied.
Take a good long look at this open book,
Thereās a page for not giving a single fuck.
Iāve not read it yet but Iām almost there,
Because time is thin and so is my hair.
Take a good long look at this open book,
Thereās a page for not giving a single fuck.
Iāve not read it yet but Iām almost there,
So there is no time for you to stop and stare.
Should I nod my head, should I show my teeth?
Should I bite into this bullet?
What a tragedy.
Not a single word, not a single sound,
Letās just stick with our own party,
I, Myself and Me.
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4. |
The Long Haul
10:55
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A man who sits alone, friends few and far between.
Withdrawn from the light, unheard and unseen.
And the darkness shines too bright, and it fractures the light.
No skills to propose, no trade to suggest.
A song in your head, a song in your chest.
But the grind is dead and bare, thereās a blight in the air.
Youāre spinning like a carousel; your eyes are burning in the light.
Like coins in the bottom of a well, your offerings are drowning in plain sight.
You sift through the demons, lighting candles in the dark.
But there are pulpits on your shoulders, just like platforms for dead hearts.
The days disappear before they are conceived.
Hours fly and youāve erased all you have achieved.
And you hope for some timely repairs, because itās time to crawl the stairs.
Youāre dead to the world, but not for long enough.
You break the optic seal with a push and a shove.
And you breathe another breath, and youāre closer to your death.
Youāre spinning like a carousel; your eyes are burning in the light.
Like coins in the bottom of a well, your offerings are drowning in plain sight.
You sift through the demons, lighting candles in the dark.
But there are pulpits on your shoulders, just like platforms for dead hearts.
Whoever said that silence is golden, was never given hysteria to roll in.
Whatever chances that you could be taking are enduring the life you are making.
A man who sits alone, friends few and far between.
Withdrawn from the light, unheard and unseen.
And the darkness shines too bright, and it fractures the light.
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5. |
I Am The Enemy
06:30
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Eyes wide open, Iām still breathing for now,
I wake to a dream for my life.
Never ending endings ending somehow,
I wish for a revised design.
Replace all my bones, with ashes and stones.
Ulcerated, blurred and blind to the light,
Oh, what a sight for these sore eyes.
Replace with these forks with knives,
And plan my own demise.
Deflate me outside in, and restore me from within.
This body is mocking me, rotting and breaking.
This feeling is ruthless, Iām hating and fading.
I donāt want to see myself today; I canāt face my own reflection.
I canāt bear the way I look today, I despise my own impression.
I see my pain on a screen now, cripple vision high definition.
Shuffling through another day, accommodating this malposition.
Where my wounds are always open, and my eyes are always broken, and my scalp still craves the light.
Never ending endings ending somehow,
I wish for a revised design.
Replace all my bones, with ashes and stones.
This body is mocking me, rotting and breaking.
This feeling is ruthless, Iām hating and fading.
I donāt want to see myself today; I canāt face my own reflection.
I canāt bear the way I look today, I despise my own impression.
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6. |
SLUG
04:45
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I pray for rain, I can slip and slide like a kidās show.
You donāt know my name, but youāll see me inching in slow mo.
Have you met my tribe? You might catch them shuffling on your patio.
And theyāre all my type; weāll be biting holes in the mistletoe.
Would you look at that slime trail? Letās mix our bile like a cocktail.
Like a cocktail.
Iāve got no bones, but that doesnāt mean Iāve got no backbone.
I glide like snow, like a symphony with no audio.
I like to breed, with a date, if not, all by myself.
Weāve all agreed that your dainty crops are magnificent.
You might see me around, or livinā it up in the underground.
In the underground.
You might see me around, or livinā it up in the underground.
I like it moist, so I can sail through the countryside.
And you rejoice when we succumb to your pesticides.
But all we want is to eat your fruit and your vegetables.
And maybe some shrubbery? Just take a look at these tentacles.
No need to eradicate, no need to desiccate meā¦
Iām not a snail; Iām not a handsome motherfucker.
But we share this trail, and you better cower at this radula.
I swing both ways, switch-hitting for new generations,
With extra glaze, Iām dripping with high expectations.
These eggs are sodden, confined in soil untrodden.
Muculent and rotten.
Glutinous and throbbinā.
Muculent and rotten.
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7. |
Time is Killing Me
07:02
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I wish the hours away but then mourn my loss the next day.
I keep the demons at bay but sometimes they show me the way.
Iām lost on familiar soil where life brings my blood to the boil.
I drown in shallow water and flail in my own disorder.
My tears are falling down the drain,
Along with the mud and rain.
I celebrate my victories and desecrate the memories.
Sometimes this heart will unfreeze, but this scorn is a potent disease.
Feast your sharp eyes on this never-been, then overlook this mannequin.
I peel away the dead skin and hope for a reawakening.
My tears are falling down the drain,
Along with the mud and rain.
My mind is grilling me,
And time is killing me.
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8. |
Salt in Our Wounds
07:19
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We know what we want but weāre stuck in limbo.
We talk about change, but shop through the window.
We dream of insurrection, making waves and rocking the boat.
We drown in introspection and our dreams start cutting our throats.
We want to defy the scum in the chambers.
But we hide in plain sight, and submit for the remainder.
We dream and we shout, but this bed is a temple.
They fill us with doubt and we disassemble.
Fragmental,
We tremble, and surrender, throw in the towel and eat the dirt.
We crawling yet we comply.
Bend over and glorify.
Thank you for the salt in our wounds.
Fuck you for the years of abuse.
We yearn for disinfection; weāre eating shit like itās our platter of choice.
And we settle for disconnection and bury our heads just to deal with the noise.
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9. |
No Man's Land
06:22
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My legs are tired and my fingers ache,
The floor wonāt move.
My limbs screech and whine for this defective shell of mine.
My nerves eat, sleep and breathe my wearied brain.
I fire projectiles at the Promised Land.
And so my defeat is postponed again,
Until I return to No Manās Land.
What is left to say?
I am boring myself today.
Words slip through my hands,
Like grains of falling sand.
My voice is sore from singing the blues,
With a fractured groove.
Iām sick of my words and passing the time.
My nerves eat, sleep and breathe my wearied brain.
I swallow disaster - my master plan.
And so my decay is delayed again,
Until I return to No Manās Land.
What is left to do,
Complain like this is new?
Vapid dĆ©jĆ vu,
Shut up and sleep right through.
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