1. |
Now I Clean For Pleasure
04:28
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I used to clean for my rent money but now I clean for pleasure
I used to clean for necessity but now it’s my leisure
I’d only clean in the parts you could see
now no nook or cranny can be safe around me
I feel so old, and I’m sorry
I must wipe the slate clean
I glance at stars and I want to feel like I’m humbled
like those sad songs sing, but I’m surrounded by planes
be quiet, be quiet
be quiet, make it quiet
Thanks for the insight, now I want a new life
be quiet, quiet
something for the 24 hour party
in my brain, make it quiet
I tried to read tarot for cash but it ended up for fun
I bore people all around me with the meaning of The Swords
in symbols I find only beauty in things
when cards are laid out, I embrace all this emptiness
we’re neither old nor young
I need to stop, I’ve already grown
I’m an imitation of a photo
allow that mould to turn into stone
it all feels so stale and tacky
delete every profile online
on Facebook you pose, and on Facebook you die
crumble to dust that can be swept aside
I’ll scrub away every stain of our deluded lives
be quiet, be quiet
I’m quiet, it’s quiet
thanks for the insight, now I want a new life
now quiet, so quiet
something for the 24 hour parties
on our screens, make them quiet
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2. |
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I’ve been slipping into my parents 80’s world
raging at the news, small town and suburban
feeling pride in an oven that is shining
I’m not slowing down with age, look, my vacuum is gliding
I felt safety in this flawed logic:
‘the world moves slowly and progressively’
when I left behind the stage
I thought these were resting days
but I have slept into a daze
and I have got to wake up
1990, my dad would drink until he slept
raging at the box when Thatcher’s face appeared on it
after he died, my brother found his private notes
fiction half complete so he could work, so we could eat
work, drink, sleep: our sad working class dream
just blame the Polish for a British mess that’s always been
and laugh at my tears, babe
it’ll hurt you just the same
I am proud to feel this shame
in everything that’s english
I can’t be that person whinging
‘been there, done that, seen it, hate that’
are you feeling old and hopeless? It’s alright
just sing that, write that, chant that, change this
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3. |
A Burial
03:44
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peek into a hole
ponder where it goes
shine a light to see possibilities
youth and all resistance
dance in the distance
we’re not the past
caged in photographs
the cleaning’s done
the washing’s on
the shopping’s done
two for one
Penny, when you’re alone, do you still sing?
what happened? I won’t throw away your zine
Jenny, what of all those punk ideas?
that void has come, it’s here, it’s taking me
the cleaning’s done
the washing’s on
the shopping’s done
two for one
the cleaning’s done
the washing’s on
the shopping’s done
two for one
babe, don’t peep into the hole
I know just where it goes
take your bargains and then run
look back towards the sun
run
put the lights on
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Saint McCabe Scotland, UK
DIY Synthpop singer from Northern England, living in a small town in Scotland. Influenced by dark cold wave records and
trashy Eurovision semi-finalists.
Saint McCabe used to perform electro-punk under his real name, Ste McCabe, but he called it a day in 2015 and started his new saintly incarnation in 2017.
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