Song of the Invasive Species

by The Dreadful Horoscope

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about

This album was recorded next to the Monongahela river.

credits

released June 20, 2011

Miles - Drums, Percussion, Looks
Jacob - Vox, Guitar, Baritone Ukulele, Percussion, Noises, Field Recorder, Didgeridoo, Theremin, Street Smarts
John - Rhodes Piano, Noises, Vox, Mixer, Masterer, Percussion, Theremin, Muscle
Jacob - Tenor and Alto Saxophones, Clarinet, wild card

BIG BULLET RECORDS

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The Dreadful Horoscope Boston, Massachusetts

A band with an unsavory past confronts the demons of modernity in a romantic tell-all on this never-before-heard 36 minute compact disc! Bear witness to the dramatic moment when history and biography collide, the ancient self is uncovered, and total socio-spiritual equilibrium is achieved! ... more

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Track Name: The Smell of Cut Up Grass
I'm tired of the smell of cut up grass, it only makes me sneeze. You're tired of the smell of burned up bodies floating in the breeze. In my name. Hey, I'm not to blame?
Living in a hungry home, though it always feeds. Living on the bloodied dirt once home to the free. Thats me. Thats we.
A messy memoir was all I received. What it read, only I could believe. Everything is not how it seems. By and by, you'll see.
So take these pens, feel these arms, cause I need gasoline. The brown man bears the brunt of the burden to keep the white man free.
A paper-cut pop star whispered to me in a way only I could believe. There is only one way to get free. Buy and buy, you'll see.
I'm tired of the smell of cut up grass, it only makes me sneeze. I'm tired.
Track Name: Morning Dread
See the masters of the world dropping down that dreadful path before your bound and quivering feet. The choice: made for you. Accept the reward. You want rewards, don't you?
The road got chose long ago. This line of life sketched years before on the work that drew this. Pattern within pattern, our lives do not belong to us. Freedom of choice? No. Slave to the choice.
If it were to hurt you, I'd bask in the blood. Drink it, dry it, scrape it, crumble it, snort it up. With my back toward a blanketed past, covered up and warm, and marching toward a monumental future. Carved, perpetual. With your back toward a blanketed past, covered up and warm, and marching toward this monumental future. Carved. Perpetual. Our lives are carved and perpetual.
Track Name: Stamps
Stamps on my brain, but they are fading as time goes on. What you heard in your heart don't appeal to your brain at all. But your stomach has been telling the truth, and shes a bit appalled. A bit appalled. Stamps on my brain, but they are fading as time goes on. So you called me a socialist, but I don't pray to that god. There was this long awkward silence before we began to make love. You forced me to watch, I urged you to listen. But, I was the queer and you were the christian who left stamps on my brain. They are fading as time goes on.
Track Name: The Witch (like the belly of a fish covered with hair)
Then they grow away from the earth
then they grow away from the sun
then they grow away from the plants and animals.
They see no life
when they look
they see only objects.
The world is a dead thing for them
the trees and rivers are not alive
the mountains and stones are not alive.
The deer and bear are objects
they see no life.

They fear
They fear the world.
They destroy what they fear.
They fear themselves.

The wind will blow them across the ocean
thousands of them in giant boats
swarming like larva
out of a crushed ant hill.

They will carry objects
which can shoot death
faster than the eye can see.

They will kill the things they fear
all the animals
the people will starve.

They will poison the water
they will spill the water away
and there will be drought
the people will starve.

They will fear what they find
They will fear the people
THEY KILL WHAT THEY FEAR.

Entire villages will be wiped out
They will slaughter whole tribes.

Corpses for us
blood for us
killing killing killing killing........

They will take this world from ocean to ocean
they will turn on each other
they will destroy each other
Up here
in these hills
they will find the rocks,
rocks with veins of green and yellow and black.
They will lay the final pattern with these rocks
they will lay it across the world
and explode everything.
Track Name: Awful Ink
No more negotiations, your life here is through.
Treating land like the devil would, you can't tell me what to do.
These advanced implements cut like a drag line in the hands of our men.
Ink corrodes and consumes folk, breaks the spirit too.
Give it up and go. Great white father told me so.

A slice of life- cut, bleach dyed, collect my awful ink.
What I write, it ain't done so much. Except for me and my type.
On a slice of life.

Like the gold or the coal beneath your loved ones we shoveled through.
Culture is dirt, and the evil tunnels through.
Give it up and go. Clan mother doesn't know.

Slice up life, cut it, bleed it dry. Pour your awful ink.
Know what I write hasn't done so much.
Except to hurt, and cheat, and lie.

The rocks are alive in a strange way in the mind
Of our men who sell off life.
The rocks are alive, but estranged in the mind
Of our very best men who sell all life.
On a slice of life.
Track Name: You Take Furiously
To see your letterhead, shredded, headed off on its way down the gutter drain would be the life of me. Just to see.
My geography don't believe in me. Her silly symmetry is what's shaking me. You, you're taking such strange things seriously, and act as you don't see that you take so furiously. That you take so furiously. That we take so furiously.
Track Name: The Disgusting Breath
We feel most free when we escape reality. Why not just do it in death? You can't commit to nothing. Pleasure come from the gullet of pain, the disgusting breath of death. Pleasure come from the lumpy lung of sorrow, breath the awful stench.

We feel most free when we attack one another on the mental front. We feel most free when we go along spinning, no tripping, all over thoughts (and allow them to fall). Until the melting ice cap of your oil slick eyes is the apple of mine. And nothing gets me more high than when I fear for my life.
Track Name: The Pen is Not Mightier than the Sword
The pen is not mightier than the sword. I don't care what you say. Though they should not be compared.
The pen means nothing without the sword somewhere. The pen, it justified the sword. And the gold! Oh, the gold! THE GOLD! Its in the ground.