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The Retributionists

by Mark Lenover

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1.
There is a Town at the Core of the Earth 02:16
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Bury this monster beneath the old ferris-wheel under the rats and the transient's dusty heel Let the dogs at him and cover his wounds with lime Take all his clothes and jam nickels into his eyes Take him home to the freaks and the pageantry Make him one with the worms and the pigeon beaks Let the wicked sleep but not to dream There is a town at the core of the earth It bleeds up and down through the roots and the dirt
2.
The Carnival Ministry 02:15
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The transient minister piously drifted through town and his sermons began the moment his bed-roll hit the ground The carnival children rejoiced at the stories he told They came as parishioners, religious and marked by the cold These long-fasting orphans sat, smiling, around him and played their jury-rigged instruments over stories he sang Then they'd hang on the carousel praising the Lord for their luck and they'd clap out the rythm and dance in bare feet in the dust Then his voice would rise, straining above the sweet, chaotic sound and an angelic chorus would lift them up off of the ground They were blessed for their faithfulness before all the poisonous beasts on earth Hallelujah Hallelujah
3.
Follow Us to Alice 02:04
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There will be a trial We've come to melt you into us You put a hex on us but the puritans shall rise again my friend Come and follow us to Alice, man She'd been working as a waitress in the dining car She was a genius with a hatchet then but she always had the good sense not to walk home alone Then she went on an adventure, man racking up the felonies in a stolen car Last I heard the cops had shot her down Two dozen rounds spun her right around She was tried as a witch She put a curse on us even as she was set aflame Come and follow us to the ashes Alice left for us No she weren't no saint but that's no excuse for roasting her like a marshmallow That wasn't called for at all
4.
Rest Easy Rabid Sister 02:03
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The only girl he'd ever known had such incurable insomnia and hydrophobia She'd been mauled by rabid dogs walking alone by the old railroad tracks and he would hold her head Rest easy, rabid sister The pillow will catch your head my friend The less you know, the better He'd find her tangled up in wire out by the loading docks on second street She'd twist and bare her teeth when he would reach to cut the snare that the longshoremen had all put on her He'd mend her tattered skirt Rest easy, rabid sister The pillow will catch your head my friend The less you know, the better
5.
The Ditchdigger 02:31
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He wakes up alone and he pours a stiff drink puts on his work clothes and he tries not to think of the skulls in the back room that once bore the flesh of one young man's dreaming, put sadly to rest He bites the bullet hard, 'till his mouth stinks of rust He traded his heart, and the heat and the dust for a ghost world of cold, rotting numbness and shame A lead weight on his tongue and an X for a name His future for bones and a ditch of his own Though the suns shreds him cruelly, there's ice on his brow He leans on his shovel and wonders at how boys with such promise grow into such men who empty these graves just to fill them again He picks at his sores, he sets his shovel down He traded his heart for a hole in the ground and a ghost world of cold, rotting numbness and shame a lead weight on his chest and an X for a name
6.
The Retributionists 02:58
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Our town was better then before the fires ripped through the northern borders Not a soul was spared The earth was darker then The earth was ours before the arsonists came down on all of this The world was kinder then and death was quiet before the lights went out in the fifth and sixth districts They don't care for quiet executions anymore All fire-bombs and bricks, The Retributionists I was better then when I was young I'd succumb to their demands with a crippling respect I was kinder then Now the young runts have turned against the bitch that spawned each and every one of them They don't care for quiet executions anymore All fire-bombs and bricks The Retributionists They don't care for order They don't care to keep the peace All fire-bombs and bricks, The Retributionists
7.
My Perfect Tragedy 03:39
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When I was young there'd come a travelling geek show and from their crates the freaks would act out ancient tragedies and, though I longed to let them go, their cramped confinement meant the world to me I'd marvel at their eloquence at their poetic circumstance I'd pay their man to watch them play out epic torments in a cage And they all lived, just as they played beneath the savage flags they'd made They played it out for me my perfect tragedy They wrote it down for me my perfect tragedy There is a town at the centre of the earth and it bleeds up and down through great rivers in the ground There is a town at the centre of the earth and it bleeds up and down through great rivers in the ground I'd cry out as they met their ends and then I'd clap my bloody hands I'd call for more, I'd pay their man and then I'd watch it all again Every time their blood would spill and I'd collect the ones I'd killed They played it out for me my perfect tragedy They wrote it down for me my perfect tragedy Then the show would travel on and I would turn, strangely empty toward my father's house Once my surrogates had gone my nightmares would claw and clamour to release themselves I held my head I blocked them out the ghosts I made still haunt me now in my dreams, for what I owe Oh, if only I had known the wretched truth - each bloody scene their tortuous ends were meant for me They played it out for me my perfect tragedy And now I die with them each and every single night They played it out for me my perfect tragedy They wrote it down for me my perfect tragedy

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released August 22, 2011

Written, Performed and Recorded by Mark Lenover
Mastered by David Disher

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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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