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Splinters

by Joe Bailey

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PKMetal
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PKMetal I have metal in my blood, but if more prog rock sounded like this, I would like more prog rock. Personally I'd tag this as prog metal, but either way, Joe Bailey gets everything right, from the guitar tones to the vocals and lyrics to the drumming and the texture of the keys. A new infectious melody waits for you around every corner, and look out, it's got a knife. No doubt, the best prog release of 2023 for me. Thanks for creating it.
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1.
Iā€™m sorry, who the hell are you? Why must I swallow your tongue? Iā€™m not here for an interview, Yet youā€™re here to flap your restless gums, Youā€™re telling me just how I should think and feel. You are wrong and Iā€™m 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 wonā€™t let you in, youā€™re uninvited, I donā€™t care how you live or who you are, you act like Iā€™m benighted, Stop telling me just how I should think and feel. You are wrong and Iā€™m not right. I can say whatever I like. You want a democracy, Yet you donā€™t want to hear me speak. Youā€™re 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 donā€™t need to get you. And I donā€™t want to upset you, But you make it hard for me to forget you, Youā€™re incarcerating brains far and wide and weā€™re supposed to let you? Stop telling me just how I should be. You are wrong and Iā€™m not right. I can say whatever I like. You want a democracy, Yet you donā€™t want to hear me speak.
2.
Matricide 08:29
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 donā€™t care enough; weā€™ve 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 donā€™t care enough; weā€™ve fixed our home in handcuffs. But she has had enough and she will self destruct. Weā€™re addicted, unrestricted executioners. Weā€™re destructive, reproductive eradicators. Weā€™ll be there to spoil the air; we paint the town and watch it drown. We donā€™t care enough; weā€™ve fixed our home in handcuffs. But she has had enough and she will self destruct.
3.
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? Iā€™m a tragedy. ā€˜Cause if I donā€™t know you and if you donā€™t 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, Thereā€™s a page for not giving a single fuck. Iā€™ve not read it yet but Iā€™m almost there, Because time is thin and so is my hair. Take a good long look at this open book, Thereā€™s a page for not giving a single fuck. Iā€™ve not read it yet but Iā€™m almost there, So there is no time for you to stop and stare. Iā€™d rather cross the road than walk beside you here, I donā€™t hear what you are saying. My ears are occupied. Iā€™m colder and Iā€™m numb the older I become, This whole world is agitating, My brain is liquefied. Take a good long look at this open book, Thereā€™s a page for not giving a single fuck. Iā€™ve not read it yet but Iā€™m almost there, Because time is thin and so is my hair. Take a good long look at this open book, Thereā€™s a page for not giving a single fuck. Iā€™ve not read it yet but Iā€™m 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, Letā€™s just stick with our own party, I, Myself and Me.
4.
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, thereā€™s a blight in the air. Youā€™re 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 youā€™ve erased all you have achieved. And you hope for some timely repairs, because itā€™s time to crawl the stairs. Youā€™re 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 youā€™re closer to your death. Youā€™re 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.
5.
Eyes wide open, Iā€™m 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, Iā€™m hating and fading. I donā€™t want to see myself today; I canā€™t face my own reflection. I canā€™t 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, Iā€™m hating and fading. I donā€™t want to see myself today; I canā€™t face my own reflection. I canā€™t bear the way I look today, I despise my own impression.
6.
SLUG 04:45
I pray for rain, I can slip and slide like a kidā€™s show. You donā€™t know my name, but youā€™ll see me inching in slow mo. Have you met my tribe? You might catch them shuffling on your patio. And theyā€™re all my type; weā€™ll be biting holes in the mistletoe. Would you look at that slime trail? Letā€™s mix our bile like a cocktail. Like a cocktail. Iā€™ve got no bones, but that doesnā€™t mean Iā€™ve 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. Weā€™ve 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€¦ Iā€™m not a snail; Iā€™m 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, Iā€™m dripping with high expectations. These eggs are sodden, confined in soil untrodden. Muculent and rotten. Glutinous and throbbinā€™. Muculent and rotten.
7.
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. Iā€™m 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.
8.
We know what we want but weā€™re 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; weā€™re eating shit like itā€™s our platter of choice. And we settle for disconnection and bury our heads just to deal with the noise.
9.
My legs are tired and my fingers ache, The floor wonā€™t 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 Manā€™s 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. Iā€™m 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 Manā€™s Land. What is left to do, Complain like this is new? Vapid dĆ©jĆ  vu, Shut up and sleep right through.

credits

released December 1, 2023

All music and lyrics written by Joe Bailey.
Album recorded, produced, mixed and mastered by Joe Bailey at The 4K Studio, Prenton, Wirral.

Joe Bailey - All electric and acoustic guitars, bass guitar, lead and backing vocals and programming.

Trumpets on 'SLUG' performed by Charlotte Bailey.

Artwork by Ste Holland (www.instagram.com/steholland_photography)

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