Debridement - Johnny Pulp and the Lemonheads
Broken Dreams in Neon Lights.mp3
Sleeve Notes
Your poetic zoology and techno advocacy ache with the walk to Emmaus Retrieving classical rogue gentrifications via correct behaviours, descriptions, dubious views and unconscious conformity might have been a matter of perturbations half heard, hardly witnessed, never tasted and so on. Was that it? No. Hell, that’s not even a footnote. It’s something else less rigid. Kendall Square’s the most anti-social square in the world. I think it’ll be the model of everything that kills us. Your gene splice was no more incredible than your Junior Mints. You’re brazen and tan well. There are exceptions. I prefer collisions that aren’t fatal. How long did you hole out at the radiation lab by the way? Were you its top secret? Neptune was all about what it looked like in glass. You too. You’re a dopamine junky, me oxytocin. It explains why I fancy rubbing your sacred ass and you send me rough notes saying ‘Stop that you fuck pig.’ I’m my own pandemic and you’re a minor objection. You never stop tattooing your phantom cock and talk of maps when I talk of compass. You disown every amputation whilst I put them out there as counterexamples and conditionals both. When I dance I’m loopy but minimalist. I modify but you look to transform - which is laborious. You’re stuck in a tornado of life. Broken Heart Syndrome is real. When blood breaks down so do we. Snails are dying quicker than all the rest. We’re all coiled within their shells. We should defer to this.