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As The Tide Turns [NTR 063]

by Matilda's Scoundrels

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Burn It Down 03:06
At least I know if I fall down we will all go down as one, we prop you up and keep you warm from our place where you think we belong. It’s with this in mind we should dig a little deeper, the foundations will start to crack, sowecanseeyoudownintheshitandmud,withuslyingonyourback. Just dreams down the gutter, as the rain, it pours down, and even though it’s wet as hell, we will light you, burn you to the ground! The shadow cast is long and dark there is no end in sight, it is system that was put in place to steal hope and block out the light. From within the darkness there will be a spark that can never be stamped out, that is all we need to drive us on, you will fear us when we all start to shout! Well the truth it’s all been laid to bare, Your lies they won’t get you anywhere. The future we’re not gonna let you back, Cause we’ve seen your face and we know hand and the people they love you on your back
Packed up! Shipped away! Say goodbye to the better days! These are gone for sure I know Well it’s always darkest before the dawn, but the sun will rise and we will be warm Together we fight for tomorrow Rise and fight! Bite! Strike! Rise and fight! Bite! Strike! Let’s kick down the door! Let’s kick down the door! Number 10 had it coming for hurting the weak and the poor We can’t abide this anymore The people who stand with me and my family forever! Lie we cry into the sky! Twisted metal in our spines! Tears roll from our eyes as we scream, But we’ll grind our teeth rise to our feet, Take this fight out to the streets! Together we fight for tomorrow
The justice system in the USA I can hear the shackles grinding away, the blue and white stripes and there God fearing ways is enough to make me God for a day. Tell me boy what have you done tell me boy was it all that fun. Tell me a story where crime didn't pay as the shackles grind my bones away. Tell me a story where crime didn't pay. Thanks for this life I didn't need one anyway as we smash the rocks on the side of the railway but I won't be missed loved kissed in a blue moon because I'm the very shit on your boot. The innocent men of the USA branded with crime on a stage on a shrine, innocent don't mean shit as they prey in a generation of pain on others they slay, the officer asks what was his name it's a judgment he says there all the same what of his family what of his name throw away the key and do not complain the justice system in the USA
Mr Martyn 05:37
Over the hill you go John with no regrets I’m told. I can hear your music playing everywhere I go. It sends shivers down my spine and I don’t feel alone. Leave us up on the hill, for we can take the strain, this drinking town with a fishing problem we’ll never be alone. This man in the station, this train in the rain, this face in the mirror, is it you who holds the strain, as a prodigy walks among us, one will never be the same. Over the hill you go John as the rain is on your face, don’t worry about your problems, don’t worry about your life, They’re all in safe hands now, in the stormy shores of life.
A bottle of rum, one for the scum, one for the souls of the departed ones. Rum for the road, rum for the scum, rum for the wench with nails for toes. No lying with women, no entangled toes, no time for love, no frolicking woes. For Deano dances to the beat, he’s only one eye and a rotten sheet. As Sally taps to the sound of a boron beat in a savage town. The broth of a Scottish stout and a punch in the bearded mouth is a reason to be drinking one of malaise and clout. To one we all may know as the rum decides to flow. A toothless whore and a flea ridden dog, I can’t see past the corset, the rum got me good. The pagans are drinking as the fire is burning, the bitch was a floater and now she’s burning. The tub men roll the barrels down, greeted with chanting, may the rum get me good. Blood splattered corpses from a rum fuelled hoard, no use for justice, burn the witches. As Sally taps to the sound of a boron beat in a savage town. There’s blood in the rum, don’t you know. There’s blood in the rum, don’t you know. There’s blood in the rum, don’t you know. There’s blood in the rum, don’t you know. A bottle of rum, one for the scum, one for the soles of the departed ones. Roll the stocks out, bring the fleecers, sharpen the axes and sweep the guts of the stages. It’s time for high justice; gather the crowds as the hangman’s grin dribbles and snarls. It’s all for the show, shout the rowdy wenches. Hang the bastards, hang the bastards. As Sally taps to the sound of a boron beat in a savage town.
There was trouble rising in my unshattered soul, this hammer blow was all I knew. I was pushed in a way to fix my soul by a thinking man to whom I know. So I took the chance and I lived the life with a friend of mine who saved my life. A friend of mine I do recall, is a friend of mine through out through all. Into the fray I shall not stay for the people who saved us will never look away. The selfless act of a wise man, taught by the thoughts of a wiseman. I brushed my fingers through the open fields, clouded judgement, shattered heels. This inebriated state I once was in will never save my life again. The hand of a not yet broken man saved my soul with colour and vision. A friend of mine I do recall is a friend of mine through out through all. The tempest slowed into a silent mist, I sang a song by the lake I missed. My eyes were open once again, the feeling of spring in the autumn rains. I’ll never be cold or moan again, this coat I wear is not heaven sent. It was given to me by salvation kings, now I sit on the throne they once were in.
War On Drugs 02:02
War on the drugs war on you war on the poor not for the few. To paint a picture on the innocent faces of an entire country will not save you. A genocide is happening under our feet, if you’ve got the money you turn your cheek. You point your finger at the unarmed man without aggression without alarm. Hundred to one, don’t count your losses, they’ll bomb your whole family as they bomb their own country, not that we see them coming, not that they care. A prison for profit and the cock of a gun fuelled by slaves, watched by none, the country’s next and it’s coming fast, but people don’t see genocide’s passed. Imprison the poor, mandatory life of an entire country black or white. Revolution can be the only fate on a war on drugs in a benefit state.
The tightening of the supple noose, as he waves goodbye a flashback of a tired man, a tired man, woahh. No use crying. Well as it seemed until the day that darkness fell, he fell into her wicked spell, wicked spell, woahh. No use crying. Into the fire you go my friend, that noose you tied bears no end, as the whip you snapped, it’s trailing, the whip you snapped it’s trailing. No use dying. We’re tied to the hole you’re buried in, undo to others in your descent, a flashback of a dying man, a flashback of a dying man. No use dying. To live and be told, you’re guna loose control, as the collars noose lingers, not that you’d ever know. The collars pain in time will tell, survivors torment, a living hell. A picture of a trying man, picture of a trying man. No surrender. I’ll live for them and die for you, breathe the fire you made for me. I’m coming for you, future. I’m coming for the pain you have waiting for me. The curtain’s close or so it seemed. I’m off the ground and on my knees, but I’m not fucking praying and I’m not paying for your sins, I’ll be a living man. The cuts and the scars of a bloody fight, ten years have past I see the light, a flashback of a dying man, flashback of a dying man. No use crying.


Folk punk Hastings, UK!

Also out on vinyl and CD from the homies TNS Records!


released January 29, 2018


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