1. |
Make Me A Monster
04:03
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In this hall of mirrors I can change myself so I’m no longer me | Face melts sideways eyeballs bulging upwards and ridiculous rotundity | Comforting cos I’m no longer here | See ya s-see ya wouldn’t wanna be ya | Face that handsome man | You can’t understand
got to bring me down | Don’t wanna look around | Snap! You cry and you run the river dry | And now you’ll take a vacuum cleaner to your thigh | And while you’re at it extract some of what lies beneath | and feed until you become a living lie | make me beautiful make me something else please | make me fake stiff and ill however happy | make me Frankenstein | make me Victor please
Make me a monster | Me myself and I shall go bye-bye | Make me a monster but don’t ask why | Make me a monster | I’ll see the world through these synthetic eyes | Make me a monster but don’t ask why
What’s that in the mirror? | Now you see it clearer
Ever seen a magician saw a girl in two? | They’ll do exactly the same kind of thing to you | That is the plan | Then dance at this masquerade for the rest of your days | Mask on your face and regret in hand | But still | Comforting ‘cos you’re no longer here | See ya s-see ya wouldn’t wanna be ya | Where’s that handsome man? | Now you understand
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2. |
Marionette
04:50
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A changing hue can make it seem like pictures move | or when the world is faster than your eye | illusions are abundant if you think it through | but she’s too real to deny | you’re a pawn in these little games she uses you | but you don’t care because the process is so sweet | melt in your crucible but don’t complain when you spill at her feet or perish in her heat
I know her hold is getting stronger | it would be wrong to wrong her | curtain call for this puppet she controls
She pulls my strings and influences every little thing I do and say | for me there’s no escape | cos as blind as I may be she just has to ask and she’ll receive | I’m in her debt cos I’m her marionette
My throbbing heart palpitates within my wooden chest | when her shadow starts to scream over my form | the smile on my face does not abate I am afraid | but all the same I love her very name
So how bad has it become? | Am I the only one who’s succumbed to a demon? | Who says an existence built on lies cannot be paradise? | Is it not a form of freedom?
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3. |
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Corners unturned | creations unborn | thousands of envelopes yet to be torn | signatures still in the pen | take a plunge into the unknown | climbing the ladder | uneven rungs | and countless unwritten songs to be sung | with every step comes the chance to slip down the snake | you could come undone
Arms out | feel your way in the dark | the game plan lights advantageous sparks | a heartbeat pulses with every wave | a forecast impossible to be made
When the crows land on your eyes to show every time you’ve cried from the amusing side of things yet to be told | how old will this music seem? | and could you count the dreams and the goals that have warped and evolved? | Will you have obeyed all the vows you have made today and those tomorrow?
Wear this | Tie it behind your head | And make love in an unacquainted bed | tomorrow a chapter today left unread | our lives pivot on what gets said
Prophecies from a futile weather balloon | stormy seas in a calm and pacific June | for all we know we’ll be riding the bullet soon | ricocheting from person to place in this room
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4. |
Secrets
06:13
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Pen and paper | wrapped in blankets | both initials dance as one amidst the lines | embellishments to signify ornately just how much for him she pines | a man who fell towards some blonde hair on a different head to the one to which he wed leaves at three AM to return quietly home to lay awake in his own bed | Secrets to keep out of sight | at least ‘til the time becomes right | The heartache the longing the guilt and the hoping is tough | let’s see in the morning if the weight has been lifted or if it’s becoming too much
Some secrets are best kept secret
Doorstep baby | maternal stranger assumes the burden that the parentage won’t bear | adolescence and further ignorance | call her mother though the blood and skin’s not shared |Secrets that must be obscured if the pain’s never to be endured |Who cares about the biology when it clearly does not mean a thing | alien benevolence is surely better than negligence | what the child doesn’t know won’t sting
Soon the minutes turn to years and still you find it’s not time to lift the shroud | eventually the eye line meets and all’s unveiled | you hear yourself speak it out loud
Some secrets are worst kept secret
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5. |
Lament For An Elephant
04:55
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One dead eye stares at the sky | the other drowns in the river that rushes by | the innards leak | the reptiles eat | a banquet for the dinosaurs in the blazing heat | a mammoth husk with absent tusks | I assert the pity | the man seems brusque | a common pest to the native rest | destroyer of the domestic crop | I wonder what seems best
Mimi kuimba kwa wewe Tembo
The morning mists shroud these altruists | a staggering intelligence clearly exists | concrete skin a shield from sin | still perforates and terminates the soul within when man steps in | so I aim this tune straight at you to indemnify and apologise for the dreadful truth | silent now but we remain loud | kupumzika kwa amani | it’ll cease somehow
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Martin Skews England, UK
Martin Skews is a singer-songwriter, composer, producer and story teller from Cornwall.
His music is often
carnivalesque, theatrical and multi-faceted. A melting pot of genres and widespread influences from prog rock and art pop to opera, musical theatre and contemporary classical music.
Often conceptual and programmatic, his music might be best described as 'ear theatre'.
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