Horizons
An introspective afro-sludge album inspired by photographer Tracey Moffatt's My Horizon exhibition and Philip K. Dick's invented religion, Mercerism.
Released 4th June 2019.
Lyrics
my people are buried here…
my people are buried here / their mouths left open in prayer / on the hill to mercer's lair / still beeping in error
they're bleeding green / it's obscene / come clean / you're all androids / and your dreams are void
ask about the whereabouts of their graves / carphone warehouse / and the line you chase is still well out.
priscilla, 1969
chasing after theoretical lines / sharing incomprehensible rhymes / as all that’s seen is peace behind / a sweet little face that’s saccharine
it’s indistinct like an old photo / what can’t you see beyond the grain and blur though? / a little girl faces 1969 / with eyes sorer than a baboon’s backside
anxious to know / captured in part by szabo.
beyond polaris
awake to the ambush a cougar's just set / deer chased through the night till it's dripping with sweat / sleep is now stress, not rest, so repressed / submit and let it fuck you till you're dead
a sphere of darkness / from here to beyond polaris / perennial darkness / moving with the solstice
it's no wonder you're lacking melatonin / your reputation spins again / ‘cause you like the nocturnal yin / it's a cold, dark and blank space you're in
so you let them turn you to deerskin.
beware the dagay
azucar on repeat / he's played nothing else this week / soulful samples for when life just gets bleaker / playing those vibes like andre tanker
sugar on repeat / consumed nothing else this week / except sertraline
now it's just unhealthy / like tracing out the font for isolation by kali / or having your blood cut with THC
although i did give half of it away / the amnesia haze / i wish it were that way / to not remember those days
but don't stop trying with losing faith / implications of a race stare you right in the face / warrior king by blood / grown from a rosebud
and crest a porcupine upon you / a reminder of the blood shared to birth you / a reminder of the blood shed to birth you.
mercer’s shadow
the carvings in the cottage / of sensuality and desire / you can't help but wonder / as she grinds her teeth and bends over
and the teachings of the khal and his khaleesi / tears were shed in doggy / but give her time / time to face her hrazef chafi
media attrition / erosion of the brain / washed back and forth / like seaweed in the waves
(goin' down, down, down, down)
a satyr's take on springsteen / but it's this for which he's thirsty / his only choice will be / living in the shadows or a quarantine
so imagine the frustration / all this from a decoration.
…they were stoned to death
gravestones stretching on forever / represent the lost hours of temporal travellers / and despite the stones being thrown / they continue to roam
(they were all stoned to death)
all these souls are escaping / but the destination's still hidden / cuz the legality of heaven / depends on your position
£35.30 returning off-peak journey / endures the stones but turns up home bloody / enters a bedroom blanker / than when it was a schoolboy's space / cuz all my shit's back at that new horizon i paved
i turn to ruin before my horizon / wondering how the dark can be so fucking blinding.
‘Emigrate or degenerate! The choice is yours!’
— Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? [1968]