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To Speak Of One's Own Pride

by BURIERS

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1.
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
2.
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
3.
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
4.
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
5.

about

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.

credits

released February 22, 2016

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BURIERS HQ London, UK

obscure cult / band / brand / label from england,eu

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