Across the isles in every village green are old stones covered in creeping moss, names obscured by the elements of time, the common names of people whose story stopped dead. The great culling of a generation remembered dimly.
What was it all about ye ask? How did we ever get here from there… we never left as history rhymes in blood… sang a lonely voice.
A minute past the silence the 20th Centuries atrocity exhibition fumbles in confusion thru every living being’s body, remembering unconsciously what happened to them before their birth. An endless shock to the soul like the broken brains of men & animals too close to high explosives. Did ye know shell shock isn’t just the trauma of seeing all those parts of the body on the outside that are meant to be on the inside but it’s also the damage done to the brain of a man too close to an exploding shell.
Ye had to walk on egg shells around him, ye know? Before he drank himself to death, he walked down to the river and tried to drink it all so he could find the source. It never stopped coming so it took him away. There are things a human being was never meant to witness.
A heavy weight to carry, epigenetic traumas reviled and relieved in whiskey & heroin & regurgitated for a new generations entertainment in McLuhan style pornographic mass media simulacrum. We can offer you simulations of trauma with surround sound and CGI gore. Yes, very effective, the subconscious mind doesn’t stand a chance in knowing what’s real & what’s fake while we dazzle it, yes, they have to live with it, we just sell it.
Ye are all degraded by what ye consume. What ye put in yer eyes and ears as much as yer belly & liver. Degraded like the entrails of the mouse dragged across the carpet and even when the poor mouse is dead the cat will still be playing with its body. Ye see that? That is you & your worthless culture, your entertainment of simulated trauma. Ye spit in the eyes of your own children. Ye inheritors of Babylon.
Are ye bored? Turn on the TV. Check online and see the cardboard cut out display of reality on show today…
All the Kings & Queens, Presidents & Prime Ministers there to act sad, cry a dry reptile’s sandpapery tear on camera. All there to meet again and remember their ancestor’s best business deals. While we’re here, you know, I should say, we can do a super extra deal on that new stealth submarine and throw in the latest stealth bomber too. How much? Only another 5% on the future.
Dead children hanging on barbed wire. Children born with their face melted orange. Somewhere else a child alive with its brain outside for a little while. The dark brown earth and scorched sand glowing in cancerous depleted uranium. White phosphorus? Strictly forbidden, somebody coughed and looked away.
Let them kneel & prey to the blood lust & blood sacrifice. Remember the rivers of blood running thru every street of every town. A culling of a generation. What are we to do with all these bodies when the factories are full? Better give them something to do before they find the right heads to roll down the hill.
Here ye are, a shilling for each pound of flesh torn on the barbed wire or if ye like stay & be the coward with yer aching privilege of tuberculosis in the tenement hall. Yes yer ancestors a privileged lot, a privileged class of serfs born on a farm, on a plantation, inside a system, inside the mind of evil.
What was all this killing for? Somebody said something about a railway that would run all the way from Berlin to Baghdad & somebody said something about all those giant battleships would be running on oil not coal one day. Somebody said there’s great profit to be made in shaking it all up. Maybe the chance to create Zion too. What do I think? I don’t know, the newspaper tells me they’re bayoneting orphaned babies in Belgium.
Do ye remember? The babies turned out of incubators in Kuwait. No? It never happened either… just enough to stir some blood lust & righteous rage to be pointed at the target & let loose…
Empires shattered and reformed, remade & redrawn. All the better to sieve more gold from the melting human grease of 20th Century Technocratic slaughter.
What did ye kill for? What did ye die for? Tell me your name brother & comrade? Was it a golden dream where only your golden flag was left flying from the temple? What were ye in your most delusional dream?
Were ye Christians? Catholic & Protestant & Quaker & Orthodox killing one another? Were ye Muslim & Jew? Marxist & Anarchist & Zionist? Who made ye all nihilists now?
The whole world a fool cried the fool. What to do? Asked the fool. When fools believe what fools say not what they do then they are the fool. A whole world of foolery & fakery so paper thin you’d be afraid to touch it lest it all fall over like the flimsiest film set. No, you were never meant to believe it was real, no, no, no, just as long as it’s profitable you see? Are ye the fool?
The next war? They’ll have to dig up all the skull & bones to use as weapons & club each other to death and then they can finally say ‘we rule over life & we don’t believe in your death.’
Madness stinks from all of them, with one eye closed, one hand tucked in their shirt, standing on one leg with one thumb behind their back. Did ye learn not to trust them yet? These crowns of gold free of thorns. All of these demons from hell pretending to be your human leaders, determined to make your world a living hell if ye didn’t notice?
Just a peaceful place to raise a child & the whole world can slide into background noise. Nothing to do with me & as if I knew where Yemen was on a map. Just a job, just some money… did ye know it doesn’t grow on trees?
Did ye figure out why they all died & why they want you dead? They’re impatient now. They want your soul dead first before your body rots from the inside. They want to stamp you, chip you, vaccinate you to oblivion & did ye wonder why? Did ye ever notice the Black Magic Money Makers are still the same… yes the same demons pretending to be people. Did ye notice? Did ye notice they’re the same? The ones that slaughtered your people a century ago and handing you your money now.
So live your life off your knees & spit in their eyes. Banish them all to hell, these demons who torture the human race. If ye can just open your eyes they’ll never be able to be closed again. It’s not a mystery how they see us… the cattle on the way to the slaughterhouse… how do ye see them? The Kings & Queens, the Prime Ministers & Presidents, the Black Magic Money Makers…
Will ye remember your way home and where ye came from? The song across the sea calling ye to come & lie in the earth, to come home and be born again, the endless procession of life into death and death into life. What did ye learn this time?
Do ye know where ye came from? Do ye know where you’re going? We’ll be sleeping here, waiting in eternity for ye to know the truth. Do ye remember us?
Know the insane glossy lies of the psychopaths that rule over you are nothing but the fragments of nightmares waiting to be buried with the liars. Their blood was never warm, they were only jealous of ye, do ye see? They would rather ye were dead than them learn to empathize.
The only power they have is the power we give away.
When there is nothing to do, nowhere to go & ye be forced to look within for once, may ye find the truth & the light and find
The Kingdom of Heaven is Within.
Will ye remember the song to sing on yer way home, will ye recognize the voice of your sweetheart singing to ye? Will ye remember the words of yer mothers tongue as ye go to sleep in the ground,
& wait,
to be born again.
First Earth Records is a Dublin-based record label featuring artists from around the world. The label works as an open
network of collaborative artists creating everything from rock, electronica, psychedelia, jazz, and folk music. Thanks for listening!! :)
On this harmonically rich LP, the Scottish singer-songwriter contrasts gorgeous soprano harmonies with strident folk-rock instrumentation. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 26, 2023
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