Heavy as a Really Heavy Thing
Album - 1 aprile 1995 - Debaser id 62586

drive,
he's trying,
to tempt me, take me, down me, rape me, fuck her...
fuck yourself, you'll never take me live,

goddamn this sun,

go, he's not the one

take this away... july, july, july
bring me rain.

drive,
keep calm,
these are only just illusions
and whatever has been said
it has now gone completely wrong
but keep your head, don't freak...
keep your eyes upon the road,
and just don't think about that room... oh holy fuck
oh holy fuck, oh holy fuck

goddamn this heat
christ, goddamn this shit

take this away... july, july, july
bring me rain

he said "i know that you know that i am the one"
"you know that i've found a way..."
don't die on me, don't leave me alone!!!
give me this chance and i'll make it the last,
i will never succumb
i will never succumb

work expectations bind the holy to the wrong
reflecting what they'll never be
sing out, pay out another day has come and gone
get used to the feeling of rotting

just watch it, goat boy
you watch it, you're a goat

down in the rust steel yard a goat boy loses limb
no need to feed old nan and kids
old buck he pumps it up, to keep his life from getting low
then back to compo when he's home

just watch the goat boy
just watch it, you're a goat
let me hear the goat boy talk!
don't judge me, goat boy

you watch it, you're a goat.

you pretentious fucking losers
you've got nothing at all
you've got your fingers in your asshole
and your hand on the call
and you talk such fucking horseshit
that it's hard to believe
that you almost make careers out of being naive

you, you are a fucker coz you sold my guitar
you, you are a fucker, seeking fortune in bars
you, you are a fucker, coz you say such stupid shit
i've got a better line in pocket lint

than what you've done with it

so if you are an asshole who pretends to be a friend
then get your ass in music, you'll be set to the end, ending,
and now you've got the nerve to ask me about my temper?
why yes, i have become a fucking happy camper!

i hate your fucking faces and your trendy cut hair,
i hate the fact you think your job will go anywhere
because it's use is just the same as what i shit into the bowl
just like the mess between your ears is like the mess in my hole

i hate your loser friends who only come out when it's right
i hate that when it's down you run instead of fight
i'm set to think you lot in life to test the stronger ones
will just require some chicken shit and also sneakers for the run.

i dig it away, the shit you puked instead of swallowed,
in an attempt to try and find the dick instead of the load,
so when you move and stand aside my mood will hamper,
and yes, i will become a fucking happy camper!

stuck in endless winter with your press to keep you sane
wait for useless numbers to grow useful once again

where the heat will come again, your flaw grows sick,
your flaw will send, the shit you call your business

to the place that is your end

stuck in the winter, cold and wet,
your stupid friends have come and went
and you've left behind your idiot job,
and it's far from a prize, you fucking dink

...your'e a fucking dink...yeah!
...how's this for punk? dink!!!

...suck my cock , you pathetic excuse for a human being...
you're a neurotic, homophobic, racist dork... you've also got a lot
of balls to dick with someone else's life, you fucking pseudo ghetto
"boy in the hood" middle class white spoiled rotten bored "gangsta"
wanna-be hunk of regenerated red neck bullshit! thank christ you don't
have to rely on that staggering intellect or dynamic personality to
intimidate others, shit for brains. shut the fuck up, and get out of
your parent's house and get a real job, you putz, and for god's sake,
quit being such a fucking sheep!!! now grow the hell up!!!...dink.

i let it get me down because you're in it for the glory
and i'd rather leave with reason than go dying for a story
and this whole l.a. rock thing

that the malls are buying up
it doesn't work, it doesn't work,
it's so inbred i might throw up...

and now i'm put into the middle

with the contracts and the bunk, and i always end up

hearing "hey, man, punk... let's have more punk!"
so here i am to do a favour, save some hassle kiss and tell,
that either way my music's shit and it ain't ever going to sell

so if you've got the gall to take this shit blown up your ass
and youv'e got the cash and balls to pump the same crap out in mass
then hell, i'll stand aside and with your plans i'll never tamper
i'll sit and write you songs and be a fucking happy camper.

yeah, send me out a contract and in clauses you will lurk
the smaller points so i can give it all and save you work
you say an album's not an album without issues left to hamper...
well then, fuck,
...i guess i am a fucking
...happy
...fucking
...camper

all is calm, and all is right

you took the call, you took the fight
i'm finished here, i'm on to the next
this time, this time, this time, this time, you call
all you are, is all you are

all is cold, and all is dead
it's time, it's time, i need, i need you

mora

help me end my nights in here
and help me get this water clear
all is calm and all is lost
you call, you call, you call, you call me

mora

critic... you're the critic... you're the critic

in the night i lay awake

i know it's cheating baby,
but i know i have a right
and in the dawn i see the question
a bleeding wrong forcing right

sometimes night i can't stop thinking
and i'm calling it a soul strike

sit here
blue light
washed out

borrowed
pin me up and boil
welcome to the wrong

...skin me...
silent filter

sucks in the resting
whipping
children
posture frozen god.
hungry muted nations

...skin me...

it's just a feeling i have
it's like a feeling of death
you can't be in it for the cash
you must be in it for life
and if your houses i need
and if the payment is real
and if your mind is at ease
that is the death of music

i watch the way you move,
and i count by the way you press your eyes
and by the little things that put you down,
ride the rails to where you are - help me thank you all,
let me fuck you all, and by the way you bitch and masturbate,
the bold ones carry on and on the way your prayer come up
and have fun - the way to carry on

i'm a dog, i know, i'm a dog

it's the only way, it's the corner stay
push the freight along and grant them all their little

goddamn shitty things
in the light it grows, slower than before,
"ten-four, they've got to burn, the 9.3 will come to carry on..."

gimme some of your good loving,
i need your good loving

dog, i'm a dog, i know i'm a dog,
i'm a dog, i know i'm a dog...

oh, elvis yer just standin' there and completely naked

and i's jest thinkin' to m'self
"goddamn-it boy! you've come a quite a little while for

such a little country doggie..."

and now he's touching himself in private
how may people do you know who can make it through

life without ever buying a goddamn vowel