Beatlock Songtext
von Seeming
Beatlock Songtext
Noise, I offer up your liberation
Isis, I reclaim you as a goddess
Cancer, I declare you just a constellation
′Cause come on, let's be honest, we′re all done making promises
On the morning after someone shot a hundred kids in Paris
Just for loving music, I began this song
In the decade after Gulf War II, Anonymous, avian flu and poptimism
Still I watch the dawn
In a country built on burial mounds, in music made from slavery sounds
In a body fed with slaughtered chickens
Clothing made by labour victims
Face adorned in social media, held in thrall by Wikipedia
Laughing at the thought that there's a way out of this system
It's the illness in the rhythm in the shifting and the skid
It′s the stillness in the schism splitting now from what we did
It′s the realness of the fear that's followed near since we were kids
When the end′s the only tendency that bends out of the grid
In the Bataclan's reverberating music off of theatre walls
Just close your eyes and singing conjures heaven
But here and now the dim Surround Sound off those very walls
Is just a ricocheting AK47
And Sputnik′s shallow whispering breath foretold
The puppy Laika's death
The call of Martin Denny′s drums and Margaret Thatcher's itchy thumbs
The roar of Bristol reggae riots, the Spirit rover going quiet
Laughing at us underneath the same old dying sun
It's the illness in the rhythm in the shifting and the skid
It′s the stillness in the schism splitting now from what we did
It′s the realness of the fear that's followed near since we were kids
When the end′s the only tendency that bends out of the grid
It's the illness in the rhythm in the shifting and the skid
It′s the stillness in the schism splitting now from what we did
It's the realness of the fear that′s followed near since we were kids
When the end's the only tendency that bends out of the grid
I am sick out of my skin
And I got no next of kin
And I'm dying from this vertigo
But the beat keeps locking in
I am sick out of my skin
And I got no next of kin
And I′m dying from this vertigo, dying from this vertigo
But the beat keeps locking in
In the morning after Isis was a goddess
Our devices turned upon us
Cutting slices raining sawdust
In the crisis and the dadaists
All died and lay in trance or
In a hideaway of loss
And couldn′t find a way to answer
All the mind's array with lawlessness
And should I take a chance or
Maybe could I learn to process
Every night away as dancer
Well, I′m tryin' to say how hard it′s
To make good, I swear saw this
Going twice as well but all this
Taking time away by hand's or
Gun′s a Pisces to my cancer
Noise, I offer up your liberation
Isis, I reclaim you as a goddess
Cancer, I declare you just a constellation
Isis, I reclaim you as a goddess
Cancer, I declare you just a constellation
′Cause come on, let's be honest, we′re all done making promises
On the morning after someone shot a hundred kids in Paris
Just for loving music, I began this song
In the decade after Gulf War II, Anonymous, avian flu and poptimism
Still I watch the dawn
In a country built on burial mounds, in music made from slavery sounds
In a body fed with slaughtered chickens
Clothing made by labour victims
Face adorned in social media, held in thrall by Wikipedia
Laughing at the thought that there's a way out of this system
It's the illness in the rhythm in the shifting and the skid
It′s the stillness in the schism splitting now from what we did
It′s the realness of the fear that's followed near since we were kids
When the end′s the only tendency that bends out of the grid
In the Bataclan's reverberating music off of theatre walls
Just close your eyes and singing conjures heaven
But here and now the dim Surround Sound off those very walls
Is just a ricocheting AK47
And Sputnik′s shallow whispering breath foretold
The puppy Laika's death
The call of Martin Denny′s drums and Margaret Thatcher's itchy thumbs
The roar of Bristol reggae riots, the Spirit rover going quiet
Laughing at us underneath the same old dying sun
It's the illness in the rhythm in the shifting and the skid
It′s the stillness in the schism splitting now from what we did
It′s the realness of the fear that's followed near since we were kids
When the end′s the only tendency that bends out of the grid
It's the illness in the rhythm in the shifting and the skid
It′s the stillness in the schism splitting now from what we did
It's the realness of the fear that′s followed near since we were kids
When the end's the only tendency that bends out of the grid
I am sick out of my skin
And I got no next of kin
And I'm dying from this vertigo
But the beat keeps locking in
I am sick out of my skin
And I got no next of kin
And I′m dying from this vertigo, dying from this vertigo
But the beat keeps locking in
In the morning after Isis was a goddess
Our devices turned upon us
Cutting slices raining sawdust
In the crisis and the dadaists
All died and lay in trance or
In a hideaway of loss
And couldn′t find a way to answer
All the mind's array with lawlessness
And should I take a chance or
Maybe could I learn to process
Every night away as dancer
Well, I′m tryin' to say how hard it′s
To make good, I swear saw this
Going twice as well but all this
Taking time away by hand's or
Gun′s a Pisces to my cancer
Noise, I offer up your liberation
Isis, I reclaim you as a goddess
Cancer, I declare you just a constellation
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