1. |
demimonde
04:43
|
|||
DEMIMONDE
(e.fischer)
tour operators of demimonde delights,
marathon rovers with glazed over eyes
all you need, to feel complete,
to bring yourself down from the daily grind
is a packed bag, and your heart on a wheel
tour operators of demimonde delights,
immune to everything exposed and alive
promise to make, time stand still
cause when you’re hungry and wasted and feeling ill
time is a luxury you can not afford
when you’re factory bred, and factory tooled
the serpentine alleys are not paved with gold,
and radiant futures and lofty goals
are mere gruesome fairytales told by the old
armies of shadows in late night dives,
future corpses, leaving nothing behind,
nothing to hide, nothing to chance,
nothing to feel and nothing to face
hallucinating sirens of snow white sin,
bad luck and trouble, under the skin
huddle closer cursing the smoke filled bins
as the blue rock of ages knocks from within
with countless versions of crazy love
with countless versions of crazy love
|
||||
2. |
i looked for you
04:29
|
|||
I LOOKED FOR YOU
(e. fischer)
i looked for you to look for me first
navigate the thorns of another crowded room
i didn’t really mind, it was worth it to find
something to believe... have nothing to hide
i looked for you to look for me first
as the waves kept coming, wild hearted and weird
waves of discomfort, sailing the deep
a man with a mission... and me, a thief
i spit in your eyes and split your lip
you sliced up my stories with your razorsharp wit
free as the wind but caught up inside
in perfectly tragic shattering... delight
and if you or i did finally become
the fallible alien, breathing open air
to need nothing and no one
is a tempting grace
but to instead leap laughing
into ravenous space
is fucking brilliant, everything’s fair
in the cool compassion of shared despair
i looked for you to look for me first
in an oddly brutal comedy of thirst
it’s useless to rage at mindless fate
damaged forever. but face... to face.
|
||||
3. |
tracking the detectives
06:24
|
|||
TRACKING THE DETECTIVES
(e. fischer)
tracking the detectives, criminal dissection
hover undercover, where everything's raw
voyeur in the making, driven to inspecting
routines that bite hard
the love is real, the best part of the show
is the permission to hold, signed by a clown
a picture of a gun in a room of ones own
to make the point
they tell me they're happy, that they're off the hook
faith flock, lock step, instructions in the book
it may not seem right, but it's as good as it gets
the meek always pay, pay to be bold
it's hard to miss, the heaving chests
the cynical spiders crawling up their legs
hell's other people, or so i've been told
advice as good as gold.
resurrection fever, the hope that blinds
for the best bad things always happen at night
learning how to fish, in the can of worms
is an education, the best
they tell me they're happy, that they're off the hook
faith flock, lock step, instructions in the book
it may not seem right, but it's as good as it gets
the meek always pay, pay to be bold
|
||||
4. |
on a wire
06:02
|
|||
ON A WIRE
(e. fischer)
i'm dangling on a wire
trying to keep my cool
i'm trying to stay steady
deaf to ridicule
this must be some kind of circus
and i must be some kind of fool
to be stuck on top of nothing
my chin wet with drool
way down below the horses prance
raising clouds of dust
i hear the sound of a trumpet blast
announcing the next act
two dwarves in a gorilla suit run out
drawing a cart
on which sprawled in splendid disarray
sits a pope with a picture for a heart
try try try to disappear
he merrily snaps his fingers
the spotlight turns to red
it lights up all his jewels
draws halos around his head
then with a plump white finger
he beckons closer to his lips
and as solace to the starving
he whispers racing tips
try try try to disappear
the crowd is in a frenzy
they are crawling on their knees
the master of ceremonies is smiling
he delicately wipes away a tear
and i'm dangling on a wire
i beg to be let down
but my companions are doing brisk business
with amulets and crowns
try try try to disappear
|
||||
5. |
the luck of the draw
03:40
|
|||
THE LUCK OF THE DRAW
(e. fischer)
the living room is blind with clouds
of dust and cheap perfume
baby's low on her calloused knees
keeping the prices down
politely asks for a piece of bread
to feed the phantom in her head
baby’s just not tough enough
the luck of the draw
mother hangs her sorrows up
kisses the toilet goodnight
father's in the time machine
cowering in fright
and the children, like weeds at war
are strewing table scraps
into the cold hard ground
the luck of the draw
the luck of the draw, the wheel turning round
the suicide club is paying the rent with paintings of hearts
another chance, another kick at the can
flashfrozen pictures of better days hang by a thread
just up ahead
warden builds a brand new jail
puts up the neon lights
cause the letters keep on coming
that no one seems to write
i'll get you yet, he crows
and takes out a letter knife
a name is just another sign
the luck of the draw
someone punches a hole in the wall
thrills the passers by
falling down with the master plan
buys a bullet in the eye
what's the use of calling for help
there's no help to be found
this is what it's all about
the luck of the draw
|
||||
6. |
driftaway
07:28
|
|||
DRIFTAWAY (e. fischer)
no, i’m not your monkey
i’m not given to leaps of faith
the mapping of of names to the navel of the earth
artful copies, the mundane deified
i’m resigning my place in that cage
i never did learn to swallow my rage
i hereby register my intention
to remain the outcast with the bad reputation
i’ll leave the same way i came, from behind
aimlessly drifting from day into night
it is, as they say, a role i was born to play
or maybe i just became that way
drift away, drift away
drift from day into night
there seems no end in sight
hand in hand my funny friends and i
the connoisseurs of decorative spaces
the constant defenders of the nearly dead
sing to me of love, a sign of the times, that i’m a wreck
but i’ve always admired those at the bottom of the deck
with dulcet tones and pictures of homes
they show me the meaning of dread
so come all you exiles with broken legs
you who live on and on in my weary head
a thousand lone conspirators of the sublime
sharpen your knives my partners in crime
of hatred and virtue laugh straight to my face
eloquently skinning me alive
|
||||
7. |
||||
NOTHING'S EVER AS IT SEEMS
(e.fischer)
a poker playing relic in a flying machine
plants another saint in the lost and found
aimless and stupid, deceitful and mean
he digs another hole into the dessicated ground
yeah, that’s him, bonjour, welcome to the head
of an insect mimicking the voices of the dead
if you listen real careful, and get as close as you can get
he’ll let you autograph, the medals on his chest
permit me a small interjection
if you will, an introspection injection
won’t hurt too much, just sting a bit
cut the sleeves, and the suit will fit
while the poisoned dogs, reel off defeated dreams
to the cold hard road, under their feet.
a seer in a cheap shirt, swigging oil to stay alert
shines the shit real good, but hey it still stays dirt
nothin’s ever what it seems
|
||||
8. |
falling man
06:43
|
|||
FALLING MAN
(e. fischer)
this beautiful place is a terrible place
when you’re stateless, hiding in the grass
who can you trust in an alligator town
when you’re imperfect, in so many ways
sacred places, secret gardens
in the lingering fog of quiet desperation
keeping watch on the gravity hopes
of the fragile birds
the future is full of sticks and stones
the rules never change
goodness echoes from far away
and you don’t always have
the words to explain
the indelible sorrows of a
warrior life
the thin cement over
cracks in the ground
or why you rage at
photographs
of falling men
falling man
catch him if you can
the loner who comes from
somewhere else
somewhere you have never been
somewhere where the thrill you use
to keep yourself alert,
is only the operator of
an elevator shoe
shouting of spearspikes
in the underground
somewhere that is just as bad
for someone who’s never been had
falling man
|
||||
9. |
give me a reason
04:29
|
|||
GIVE ME A REASON
(e. fischer)
dead man guides and virgin brides
the ship of fools is out of control
bring us the head
of the next under-bridge troll
take a pleasant stroll
or a leisurely drive
and leave the world be
for a while
you kill me, i kill you, from fright
as we march singing into the long night
too many people trying to get home
like flies circling a dry piece of bone
take a pleasant stroll...
give me a reason
if the truth must be told
the good and bad drive some to drink
but not me; it only makes me think
i don't miss a thing
sheer genius, this petard to the wind
i'm not looking forward to spring
and more and more i fear fall
i see the fires coming
oh the fires will burn tall
take a pleasant stroll...
|
||||
10. |
this war
04:46
|
|||
THIS WAR
(e. fischer)
the alarm keeps ringing in his head
conversations, walking tours
steps waking the silent dead
walls lined with pictures of floors
once he was alive, he remembers it well
that was before the stairway to hell
the decaying building, the doorways that scream
the alarm that keeps ringing in his head
a candle in the dark, the king's corsage
spoonfuls of water, the salty sea
an answering machine in a parking garage
shredded and steeped in bitter tea
dissecting the carcass
of passing time
spoonfuls of water, the salty sea
bought and sold
in a parking garage
hard luck and hard won peace
this war's about disease
|
||||
11. |
somebody
04:21
|
|||
somebody told me,
to make me happy and all that
that the secret to living well,
is to watch my back
but to me that makes no sense
cause i’ve nothing to fear
i don’t drown my sorrows in soapy stinging tears
there’s a new day coming, i can feel it in my bones
and what that day will bring i prefer to leave unknown
i’m not down, i’m only out, there is nothing that i need
i got my passport to nowhere, where nothing’s guaranteed
when all is said and done,
and i’m watching someone peel
the layers of another onion
to try to learn how to feel
i remember then
that me i have no sorry tomorrows
so here’s to (living well, a life that i won’t have to borrow
goodbye good old boys with chains,
goodbye good old girls with curls
wretched, wrapped together,
in twisted strings of pearls
|
darkblueworld Vancouver, British Columbia
"Songs that ache with truth" – CD of the Week, The Globe and Mail
“... a searing
alternative to sweetness and light” - Down Beat
“Imagine an unholy union of Nina Hagen and Jim Morrison channeling Bertold Brecht and Rimbaud with a band made up of members of the Doors, the Velvet Underground and Pink Floyd and you’ll have some idea of DarkBlueWorld’s mesmerizing, hallucinatory sound...” – Coda
... more
Streaming and Download help
If you like darkblueworld, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp