To Speak Of One's Own Pride


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The record was made at Dark Horse Farm somewhere between London and Brighton in 2015 and is released on Endemik Records.

BURIERS are dedicatedly DIY and this release exemplifies that. The squeaking of chairs, gasping for breath and single take live performance of songs is all there to be heard. Manufactured dross be damned.


released February 22, 2016


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Buriers are a London based cvlt led by poet and singer James P Honey.


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Track Name: In Honour; _or_ how hearts get lost
a wristwatch sank
in the sands of an old rich holiday haunt
gaunt model wasn’t curve enough
and the local young rebel wasn’t wild or strong

and along came the leaves to
clog up the Jacuzzis and ruin all the lawns
cocaine dinner party
hardly anything to do anyway give a damn

to speak of one’s own pride
as if an ocean cared who it drowned
and the moon was all but a hole punched through deep blue tarpaulin pulled real taught

and this is exactly how hearts get lost
inside cubes set aside inside valleys
of a ripple on the top of the Thames like glass
and the all-star child-cast firing squad
god complex, next level ambition
of a prison guard role acceptance speech
deep theory, dull dull prose
no hope for folk singer these days

and after all, we are all a figure
standing tall in a landscape
and the moon is all but a hole
a hole punch through
deep blue dawn

and the tower clock cast out cold all grey
in a city like war where paperweights
take Place of minds inside dead walls
and where does all the time get to?

in honour of new endings and men that pen the prose
of dust and somesuch crystal carving out the paths
of all your dearest loved ones

and all at once it was clear the earth was only just
a girl asleep inside the greedy silence coiling in a gun barrel
this song is called in honour of the men that penned the dictionary of angels and smaller feats before the curtain fell
Track Name: We Are Small; _or_ the way the valley made us feel
we all die twice
the first time when we cease to breathe
and the last time is the last time someone speaks our name
the last time
the last time

and the cloud is a halo about the mountain’s cold crown
and we are small
the cloud is a halo about the mountain’s cold crown
and we are small

we grew together, strong as a storm
we grew together, strong as a storm
grew and grew and grew
grew and grew and grew

so started out slowly all coming down silent in a tacky kind of hue made out of nothing of a uniform
cradling a sky torn open wound broad by the city park sitting down trying to be whatever man
let it all silent as a halo as cloud or the heresies of snouts sniffing pyramids of money see
never going to be the same. never going to be the same. never going to be the same let them roll down
in the end all colour like colour tv a kind of scratch made out oblivious and stick them all upon a shelf
always in the end you'll find. always in the end you'll find. always in the end you'll find.
that we grew together as strong as a storm
Track Name: Cardigan; _or_ along a line of linden trees
along a line of linden trees i’ll see you always
crazy in your cardigan and your famous, yeh your famous, grey hair
and on the landing through the banisters i can see your shadow praying
praying for the painters waiting tables in cities that don’t care
and your pacing on the landing is the sound of flirting rain
falling on the roofing of the garret where all your children lay

why just yesterday i used to chase girls
all women and music there wasn’t much else
when i went out one weekday night
awoke to find i’d found my bride
and life is good what else to do
then let our hair curl and get tattoos?
and i was young some say i still am
the son of a butcher the sum of all man
it’s the way women lie

then it broke away as an offering as a mist on a lake or of something
in the end it was all kind of carved out like a reed lying down in a river flat

then of course it was kind of like before cut cutting out dust or a dull bore
never even understood how it could've been all this opening of flowers on a windscreen

then we kind of felt how it maybe was just to stand close calmy there and only watch from the spot where we all grew foolish deep scratches buried under varnish

[your words are sham]

and those that you love are mostly made of water and a heart
Track Name: Goat’s Gloom; _or_ call off the hounds of fate
on a pedestal where all men bleed the same as goats
and here’s to hoping for something pretty
flee with me my love
flee with me or leave me be my love

such is the way of the heart of the fool
to pull apart the coals and let them cool
all for a spark
all for a fear of the dark

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