1. |
Teyrnas Rhwyg
10:15
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Mae’r ddrws ar glô
Ond da ni’n glywed eich sibryda
Yn sôn eto am fradychu’r cenedl
Wel da’ ni ddim eisio’ch cacen
A’ch breuddwydion aristocrataidd
Mae’ch celwyddau’n droi ni’n fyddar
Felly Boris runs to scotland
Yn rhedeg I achub yr undeb
Fel Mae e’n rhedeg o ei gyfrifoldeb
I redeg gwlad ar fin hollti
Gyda’r gan mil cyrff
A’r gwaed ar ei fysedd
Digon mawr, digon cyfoethog
A wedi cael digon
O eich esgeulustod
Eich casineb a’ch trachwant
Felly ni fyddwn yn cysgu
Dan y jac dim mwy
Yn fuan bydd cymru’n rydd
O’r ymerodraeth rhwyg
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2. |
Haiku For Dead Inmate
06:20
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Bodybags heave at full weight
Praying to an oversized governor god
Who sleepwalks you into a firing squad
We'll make it better, we'll make it worse
Dragging the stereotype
Of an Indian curse
Hell makes it better hell makes it worse
Flogging the archetypal psychotic nurse
Concrete buildings bursting
At the seams
At night the identical rooms
Are full of dreams
Gas pumping through
Pipes when outside it rains
Vents and screens administer
The poison and make you go insane
A head massage for a fucked up day
Close your eyes
And the shampoo goes away
Mint green tiled showers steaming tool
Mirrored liquid gathers
In a gleaming pool
Hell makes it better
Hell makes it worse
Worshipping the system
Of cradle and hearse
Cages for better
And sunshine for worse
Flogging the empty public purse
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3. |
Ungod
03:23
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4. |
Mario Battisti
08:51
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The room is dark, there’s a TV
In the corner bathing the room
In white light and white noise. Flickering
Fragments of static echo through
The corners of the room
Searching for a home
Dancing like bats in a torch’s beam
The front door is dark green
Frosted windows show nothing
Of the night outside
Just a blackness
I think I am safe
The noise of the TV soothes me
Seeping into the cracks of my brain
I close my eyes
I can feel the light against my eyelids
As if I was turning my head towards
The sun on a summer's day
I am at peace
The time is right
I creep over to the TV and turn it off
With a flash and a pop
The screen goes black;
An almost inaudible
Whining sound rises upwards
And disappears
The room fades
To silence and darkness
Suddenly cold as if a presence has left
Like an empty chair
When the guests have gone away
Then I hear the faint sound
Of music outside
Slow and lilting
Cold dread begins
To sink into my muscles
Creeping up my spine
I am not alone
There is a tapping on my window
As a nail scrapes the frosted glass
Of my dark green front door
The air is different here. Cold, good
There’s mud on my shoes and my jeans
From a mile back, but I like that
Seldom trailed footpaths
Are pleased to meet my feet
And I’m happy to meet
Those seldom trailed footpaths
Pleasure to meet you
Tree, boulder, mud
Although you’re locked away
I feel at home, sane
Clarity transfers from air to mind
Crunching stones
I’ve everywhere to hide. I’m at peace
A setting sun sits silent, still
A slow descent. Free from the cement
It’s been an age since
Crossing the fence
I go down, following the river
Not a sound but free flowing water
Fields ahead.
Another fence to duck under
Concrete people say I shouldn’t be here
Every trunk pinned with steel
“Private fields. Do not enter”
I dare feel safer
It invites me yet demands
I not walk further
Hills of beauty never
Seen by public eyes
Those grey pupils of urban infants
Wired and cordoned by private greed
We see no green
Not any longer
The birds dare not sing anymore
As darkness falls
I hum, whistle and whisper
A house, broken and weathered
A door, the only green
I’ve seen for a while
Respite, perhaps. Perhaps danger
The cold now bites so
I check the window
But see nothing through
The frosted pane
The glass breaks as I tap
A lone pair of eyes are seen
Music melting into a mess
And with battered honesty
There's a figure leaching onto me
Tearing my will to leave and to see
The unstoppable damage
I'm surrounded by posts
Where is there left to be?
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5. |
Muravey
11:47
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Les extraits sont coupés
Et collés ensemble
Ils font quelques chose de linéaire
Ils se déchirent les genoux et les dents
Tout va bien, nous sommes bien
Laisse-moi, je hurle
Les espoirs risibles
Je pensais que c’était en descente
Ils n’ont donné aucune
Raison de les prendre
Dans une boîte pleine de couteaux
Ils veulent te tuer
Незаконные убийства
Плачущие матери
Дети без матерей
Виноват по ассоциации
Без доказательства
Удобство
Кожа с наших спин - ни раз
A man loses a son
A baseball card
Kill over capture
Find, fix and finish
The disposition matrix
White hot, small footprint
No smoking gun
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CHIHUAHUA Manchester, UK
Noise-rock/post-rock music from the Manchester underground. Independent, uncompromising, and experimental.
2019-2022.
Links:
linktr.ee/chihuahuaband
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