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The Arsonists

by Mark Lenover

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Gary Lines
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Gary Lines I downloaded this album last thing at night and thought: 'Just have a quick listen before bed.' Three hours later and I was still listening. Then, after I had finally slept and gotten up once more, I started listening again . . . Favorite track: Cash Out Spiritual on the Corner of 5th and Falling.
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1.
Polaroid 01:55
2.
We finished him down by the water where the sand and the undergrowth meet We buried him down by the water on his knees When a thief in the night finally caught him as he crept like a ghost across the water on perfumed feet The least of these... I caught quick glimpses of hell as we kicked him and he passed on with a prayer and a wink And though he told us we'd shown him the devil he never blinked Now he stands in the promised land and he's calling the crows to heel He's picking nails out of his invisible hands as he lowers his head and kneels Now he stands in the promised land and he's wrenching me from my sleep as a rotting apparition underneath the sand whispers promises up to me: “Oh brother, my pain will soon be yours.”
3.
Once I was a lion tamer Once I was a guest of honour but the lions turned to dogs and the honour turned to fog over the kitchen table Once I was a great endeavour Once I was a prized embezzler but the greatness soon wore off and the neighbours called the cops in a fit of conscience Once I was an entertainer Once I was a friend to favour but the clapping turned to rot staining each and every cot at the local shelter Once I was a lion tamer Once I was a guest of honour but the lions turned to dogs and the honour turned to fog over the kitchen table Stand if you're able
4.
Go soak up the vomit and bring out the beer Put your eyes to the floor and pretend you're not here No, you'd better not twitch with that gun at your ear Daddy's coming home Creep down the hallway, put your sisters to bed take each pillow from underneath their heads 'cause if he comes to catch them, they'll be better off dead Daddy's coming home
5.
6.
She'd dance on the backs of the mules in the road She'd dance on the scraps and the stones that we'd throw She'd throw back her head, and she'd swallow the bones She danced with the things that she cared about most So time and time and time again she danced at the end of a rope One day we all found her frozen to the road her eyes, painted porcelain buried in stone She answered her echoes and died from the cold She died with the one who had loved her the most So time and time and time again she danced at the end of a rope
7.
Back when the snakes were still biting at his heels he'd wake up every morning with the shakes and the chills He'd say, “Leave the lights on! Leave the lights on! It's dark enough as it is.” He never grew accustomed to the burns and the pills and the towering, boney shadows perched like gargoyles on stilts He said, “Leave the lights on! Leave the lights on! It's dark enough as it is.” He'd concentrate on the bleached white walls and the bed would begin to shake and the ghosts would come to the evil ones and the fear came in waves Send up a prayer for the wicked at heart but don't run out among them or they'll tear you apart always leave the lights on leave the lights on It's dark enough as it is
8.
We are not preoccupied with honourable ministers malicious public butchery, the violence never stops. Although our likenesses are marked only by some policeman's symmetry It still remains a mystery, how dead men learn to talk It still remains a mystery, how dead men learn to talk Although we're fastened tightly to each other, drowning in the rain we're all bloody, vicious murderers who each and every day take great pride in cold civility and marvel so incredulously at our noble ability to dig enormous graves at our noble ability to dig enormous graves We've come to check the list to claim the dead in the name of the jabbering, white collar monarchy We've come to check the list to claim the dead in the name of...
9.
Ennio 00:56
10.
When your mother calls, let her in When your father calls, do what he says When your mother calls, take her hand and when your father calls, go with him 'Cause we crush little bones in the dust We crush little bones in the dust No, you don't want to fuck with us 'Cause we crush little bones in the dust When your mother calls, let her in (You'll be safe in here) When your father calls, do what he says (You will be safe in here) When your mother calls, take her hand (You will be safe in here) and when your father calls, go with him (You will be safe in here) 'Cause we crush little bones in the dust We crush little bones in the dust No, you don't want to fuck with us 'Cause we crush little bones in the dust
11.
Fury and the mouse have reached an old compromise one crawls while the other flies throwing bricks and bottles toward the road 'Cause somebody told them their inheritance was gone and that the cops were to brain the lot of them if they didn't toe the hatter's line Now the bulls and the hood-rats are drinking to keep the peace but as the hours pass they spill out into the street and they form a line on every side The boys on the bridge are dropping cinder blocks down onto the highway, without ever looking down as the cars come screeching 'round the bend Roma, blessed Roma the sun shines on your dead Gladly, almost proudly the sun shines on your dead Roma (they burned the roofs above our heads) blessed Roma (a glowing, bottle-rocket red...) the sun shines (...explosion lit above our heads) on your dead Gladly (the shit-house rats will prove their worth...) almost proudly (...but if their hell-machine won't work...) the sun shines (...they'll send their jailers to their deaths) on your dead
12.
Jimmy cracks a coke and he runs back, puffing as he kicks the bottle out of his way Shoe sales rocket and the Iceman cometh, what his business was he wouldn't say The New York scene lost its symmetry through Brooklyn's burnt out sieves Three suits peddle their gold-paint-metal, trying to sell what Jesus gives Trying to sell what Jesus gives Look at the burnt out junkie, alto hurricane Oh, they'll be pleased to meet you, glad to take you home up to the church of Mother Mary Pay and Play There'll be a cot to greet you, and a black rotary phone Laughter is a weapon manufactured in New Jersey and it's built to grind our churning guts to dust This great, smirking concoction, it sits winking through the paper as its early morning hostages adjust to their shifting points of reference and their reeking, black excretions as they match their grinning captor round for round until the turning tides grow weary then they rest their heads in dungeons cut to ribbons, but in dreams they're safe and sound Yeah, in dreams they're safe and sound You'll be a first-rate psycho, schizoid masterpiece once all the pavement gets to grinding down your bones 'till you're a bloodshot, whirling, bug-eyed Hercules spinning the phone for no one, though everybody's home

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released September 28, 2012

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Mark Lenover

Through a distinctive fusion of folk, rock, theatre and electronica, Mark Lenover critically examines pop culture’s ubiquitous influence, its moral philosophy and the potentially devastating effects of drug abuse and mental illness. His recent work frequently challenges an increasingly pervasive culture of celebrity, self-indulgence, distraction and desire. ... more

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