1. |
Paris Guns Theme
00:10
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2. |
Rattlesnake Thief
04:22
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3. |
Midnight on the Common
04:13
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4. |
Stone Lion
04:10
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5. |
Leave You as I Found You
04:19
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6. |
Right Hook
06:47
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7. |
Seamus Seacaptain
04:51
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8. |
Once Again in Earnest
03:07
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9. |
John Key's Logic
01:53
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10. |
If I Could Choose
02:45
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11. |
Milton's Song
02:53
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12. |
Slow Death
02:02
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13. |
Softly
03:51
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14. |
Chain Link Fence
02:27
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15. |
In Back of a Brick Wall
02:14
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16. |
Puta
02:58
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17. |
Cathode Ray
06:28
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18. |
South Coast Suicide Song
03:45
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19. |
To Hell and Back
09:31
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to hell with love
to hell with truth
to hell with pulling out the tooth
to hell with light
to hell with spark
to sit there crying in the dark
oh pity me!
oh pity you!
to hell with green and red and blue
refurbishment, maintenance, glue
and turquoise, gold and silver too
and nourishment
and who we screw
and living the same day anew
again, again, again, again
is anyone out there my friend?
will you like me if i lend you
my fav’rite little pet a while
just don’t return a crocodile
and if you do, is that ok?
‘s that what i am? and will my right
to be so different day to night
bring on a bitter, painful end
surrounded not by caring friends
but nurses, doctors, gurneys, ropes
and catheters and stethoscopes
and offal, coughing, spitting, hope
destroyed against medicine’s wheel
and products of the poppy fields
and byproducts of carbon life
subsumed by earth, and rotted
and rerotted, dug up and
refined and pressed
into a pill, then smartly dressed
just cannot lose their life-force, still
they’re not your friend
and they can kill
and def’nitely
will make you ill
and make you talk a load of... quite
the opposite of what you should
cause what is good is what is good
for you and me and all the others
we are all man!
we are all brothers!
we are not wood!
we are all lovers
friends and neighbours
thieves and thugs
and my one wish, for just today
’s that violence would go somewhere
and die a death
in pain, agony
out of breath
sobbing at the consequence
of it’s own nature’s abhorrence
without a blanket, hope of drugs
tortured by a bunch of thugs
can i be sure that i am real?
can i be sure that i am right?
is it the case that i don’t steal?
and yellow, purple, black and white
are my principles watertight?
i got so gone the other night
i can’t remember if my sick
had ended up on some prick’s dick
he doesn’t have a goal
he tends to micro-manage
he tries to have control
cause it tends to limit damage
she thought she had a heart
but that was made of coal
was tearing her apart
cause she could not find her soul
or another to connect
what she felt to what she thought
she always had it all
but she felt it came to nought
all along the way
both destroying to create
and all they ever needed
was a lover, and a mate
and another to reflect
that what they thought that they needed
was really what had stopped them
and impeded, not succeeded
and both were full of doubt
feeling empty and alone
a whimper or a shout?
a sponge perhaps, or stone?
but perhaps it had to be
we had desires we had to sate
before we understood
about the need to procreate
d’ya think that i’m ok?
d’ya think that i’m a nut?
it really doesn’t matter
don’t believe that you’re a slut
and all along the way
trying never to be cut
keeping third eye on the ceiling
stumbling backwards, eyelidshut
i can move the earth
and you can be the sky
so long as we keep it simple
do our best to never lie
as long as we relate
instead of trying to die
taking photos of the birds
in the sunlight flying by
to hell with doubt
to hell with pain
to hell with all that is insane
to hell with jealousy and hate
to hell with that old passive state;
the halfway house twixt life and death
and wasting all that precious breath
on careless fools
and wasted scum
and potholes, faultlines
rashomon
and going out and getting gone
just safety, home, no telly on
just ping-pong, heartbeats
back and forth
the compass sharply pointing north
so that we know where on this earth
springs the water of our worth
a surplus, not a sorry dearth
quarks and quanta
strings and waves
not drug parties
and techno raves
cause life is lived in analogue
hysterical and primal cry
and zeros, ones and gog-magog
to the tree-frog don’t apply
and mass has magnetism, true
so i believe what we should do ’s
not try to be the right way up
or fill right to the brim the cup
but every day, and all the time
is do our best to bear in mind
that surely opposites attract
and think, perhaps, that what we lacked
was turning around, with back to back
with third eyes shut, near heart-attack
and in denial we’re not treasure
take away the very pleasure
we’re together to imbibe
it’s getting harder to describe now
but here goes: god damn, i’ll try:
bi-polarity’s no lie
and mass improperly aligned
and out of touch
with signals, signs
and signifiers
has capacity
whilst still relating in a way
to destroy the everyday
and make together untogether
and repulse
in equal measure
all colours unified are white
and black is just absence of light
put them together, you get grey
funny thing is, that’s just OK!
oh look at me!
oh look at you!
to hell with all that is not true
affirmative, to all above
and in the end, there’s only love
henry marsh, 6 jan 2012
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Paris Guns London, UK
Henry Marsh (b. 1982) was a self-taught musician and songwriter, based in London. He wrote and recorded over 40 songs before his suicide in July 2012. Sober and clean from the end of 2011, he launched himself into his last solo musical project: Paris Guns, named after the biggest gun ever made that was fired only once in WWII. Henry is no longer here – Paris Guns is his legacy. ... more
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