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lyrics

yeah I'm hockin' all my poems to the strange strange child
she poses me a riddle in the form of a naive rhyme
I answer in prose with exquisite, lyrical pride
but it seems I missed the mark and the mall-rat, she turns and cries

shouting to her now, startled startled eyes
"I've got some well earned views"
but I've lost my cue so I'm not inclined
I best move on, else I'll be removed

if only I could conjure
I'd make a sweet cool breeze
float me away like fairydown
settle me now where the air is clean
but that hot wind, its gotten me beat
its meltin' me down
still, I'm waitin', for the coldness of your call

lining up those who got something I don't
I'm gonna let it slip but better you mind

As the kid pointed out, I gotta way forward
and every way, its gonna be bleak
the crowd stares back, all those pale pale eyes
and I can't hardly see to think

if only I could conjure
I'd make a sweet cool breeze
float me away like fairydown
settle me now where the air is clean
but that hot wind, its gotten me beat
its meltin' me down
still, I'm waitin', for the coldness of your call

credits

from audience free noise, released November 1, 2014
all performances by Mike Stoodley except:
Meghan Glue - violins
Myles Alpress - drums

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the complex engine New Zealand

Perhaps best in someone else's words:
"Flickers of Cabaret Voltaire..…jabs early 80s Gaelo-celtic geetar melody generously wrapped in an Eno-esque crust with undertones of post-industrial industrialness"

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