( Click here to listen to the album )


Perhaps my voice is on the tape as well?
Pre-recorded or real-time: could you tell?

Perhaps my voice is low down in the mix?
Or maybe your mind is playing tricks?


...season two...
...the spires filled with glue...
...high pitched resonances...
...they invested in technology of all kinds...
...they travelled...
...they made karaoke from hell...
...they took their...

Clearly, records indicate you and I were born here
Ambition died here, so I disappeared

Dreadnought goodbyes and silence
Your shark eyes
It's really no surprise

A fantastic piss experiment
Only one recourse for merriment

I put down my drink
Escape into the night
A suburban guilt trip
You could say that I jumped ship
But I didn't jump, I was pushed from it

A fantastic piss experiment
There's nothing left but the sediment

I materialise around the time that day descends
But there's nothing to do here
Go underground or shop out of town?


Handsome girls in the disco tonight
Handsome girls, it's a mind-blowing sight
Handsome girls want to work on the door
Handsome girls who I just can't ignore
Handsome girls in the disco tonight
Handsome girls say they might start a fight
Handsome girls, but they know I'm too puny
Handsome girls, when I quake at their beauty

So throw away your make-up, I don't want to disappoint you
You know when we wake up, I won't want to disappoint you

Handsome girls know I'm all on my own
Handsome girls, maybe I'll follow them home
Handsome girls find it very exciting
Handsome girls, though you might see me hiding
Handsome girls, an impenetrable clique
Handsome girls give new meaning to 'chic'
Handsome girls, so I drop to my knees
Handsome girls, can I join you, please?

So throw away your make-up, I don't want to disappoint you
You know when we wake up, I won't want to disappoint you

...dance with me...


Tobias Schmidt, though you'd never admit
The jacks became clubs in your time and now

Tobias Schmidt, though you're not to blame for it
Your Harpsichord strings took the heads of kings

O Guillotine

Tobias Schmidt, witness to none of this
Vengeful, lives were sold: your transaction in gold

Tobias Schmidt, prepare the photofit
Bow down Africa's slave, bow down Europe's knave

O Guillotine


...So heads down
Don't look around
Cause I'm oblivious to you
So fucking serious

...So heads down
Don't make a sound
Cause I'm oblivious to you
So fucking serious

To wine bar
To romance
To psycho
To cadaver
To body parts
To bin bag
To watery grave
To damp bones
To particles
To drinking water

...So heads down...

I am a teenager
An old age pensioner
Medieval everyman
I am your greatest fan
I am a corporation
With global aspiration
I am a well-known soft drink
A pair of branded trainers
I am the filthy rich
Exploitation bitch
I am the squalid poor
I am the Hackney whore
I am celebrity
Face of anonymity
The one you can't ignore
Waits for you outside your door

...So heads down...


The royal meteorologist's expression is pained
The weather looks bad and it's starting to rain
Wasting his prayers on a fate already sealed
Kneeling in a tent, intent, in a Bosworth field

Richard of York gave battle in vain

This weatherman, whose charts predict severe precipitation
Couldn't say, couldn't say the future of a nation
Fearing Richard of York giving battle in vain
He pleads with the king in a language untamed:

"Oh please insane monarch don't you know what you're doing
Get down off your steed a storm is a-brewing
Written right here in history on pages unturned
Give the king half an hour he'll be food for the worms"

Richard of York gave battle in vain

But the nonchalant king, with his transparent skin
Views the battlefield and yawns as a grey day dawns
In his veins a juice flows of a curious colour
Not blood but white rose hence the unearthly pallor

The sky rains down daggers cutting mud from the loam
Richard's whole army washed away by the storm
Crying "Spur your proud horses", the Tudors upon him
But the sun, not the storm, tears him limb from pale limb

Chisels a prism where once was an eye
Splits open his chest as he lays down to die
The hills and the standards are strangely afire
As he bleeds seven hues into England's grey sky

Richard of York gave battle in vain


Mythical ostriches
From... to... we built the London bunker
Terrified, the threat of unidentified genocide
Mysterious news from foreign lands
We took the matter into our own hands

Stockpiling, agonising
From... to... we built the London bunker
Dressed to oppress ourselves, we won't forget to loot the ghetto
Pause only to spit in a stranger's face
The one who brought the terror to this place

Shivering underground
From... to... we built the London bunker
Paranoid, we'd fled down drains, at pains to keep "the others" at bay
Only now we realise the danger's here in the faces of our peers

...We built the London bunker...


I can't see the sea from the centre of the city
Just the tops of the trees and they're not so pretty
I can't see the mountains on the distant horizon
The lye of the land, the only lie I rely on

Topography, a science I am needing
Topography, just to end this feeling
Topography, in the books I'm reading

Then I run through the town past the concrete and steel
Should I pull it all down? To see what I can reveal
I know inside these four walls I have to stifle emotion
But you'll see when it falls: over rubble a view, out to the ocean


If you're feeling sick and tired
After all the pills you took
Just reach up to the top shelf
For the new self-help book
Have a browse and you will find
That the answer lies within these pages
Called 'Elektra Therapy'
Subtitled 'Family crises through the ages'

Introducing Elektra Therapy
Come on, Elektra, Elektra complex, Greek style

It was written 405 BC
Somewhere near the Parthenon
Now pressed again for present day
Available on Amazon
Just trust me on it's pedigree
Prevents adultery to some degree
Based on ancient principles
Now sold to you in multiples