1.   Cold Brains
2.   Nobodys Fault but My Own
3.   Lazy Flies
4.   Cancelled Check
5.   We Live Again
6.   Tropicalia
7.   Dead Melodies
8.   Bottle of Blues
9.   O Maria
10. Sing It Again
11. Static
  
* - toune cachée: Diamond Bollocks

a final the curse
abandoned hearse
we ride disowned
corroded to the bone

the fields of green
are bent, obscene
i lay upon the gravel
a worm of hope
a hangman's rope
pulls me one way or the other 

a final curse
abandoned hearse
we write this song
corroded to the bone

a bird of song
is heard no longer
in the evacuated heavens
the drain is drawn
and drained and gone
and on and on, it doesn't matter 

a final the curse
abandoned hearst
we rock the salt
corroded to the bone

tell me that it's nobody's fault
nobody's fault
but my own
that it's nobody's fault
nobody's fault
but my own 

when the moon is a counterfeit
better find the one that fits
better find the one that lights
The way for you

when the road is full of nails,
garbage pails and darkened jails
and their tongues are full of heartless tales
that drain on you
who would ever notice you
you fade into a shaded room
it's such a selfish lose
the way you lose these wasted blues, these wasted blues 

tell me that it's nobody's fault
nobody's fault
but my own
tell me that it's nobody's fault
nobody's fault
but my own tell me that it's nobody's fault
nobody's fault
but my own tell me that it's nobody's fault
nobody's fault
but my own 

tell me that it's nobody's fault
nobody's fault
but my own
tell me that it's nobody's fault
nobody's fault
but my own...

vanishes in thin air
the vanity of slaves
who wants to be there?
to sweep the debris
to harness dead-horses
to ride in the sun
a life of confessions
written in the dust 

and i get caught up
in the moonlight
reaching out for a rotten egg
i don't want to beg
it's crystal clear
your time is nearly gone 

count your blessings
and do the things that you should
o the has-beens
that never had it so good
stormy weather
the kids are making a racket
in the wilderness
the wild lives are so mild 

and i get caught up
in the moonlight
reaching out for a rotten egg
i don't wanna beg
it's crystal clear your time is nearly gone 

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
AWWWWWWWWWWWW

and i get caught up
in the moonlight
reaching out for a rotten egg
i don't wanna beg
it's crystal clear your time is nearly gone.. 

these withered hands
have dug for a dream
sifted through sand
and leftover nightmares
over the hill
a desolate wind
turns shit to gold
and blows my soul crazy 

the end
o the end
we live again
o i grow weary of the end 

o hungry days
the footsteps of fools
gazing alone
through sex-painted windows
dredging the night
drunk libertines
stink like a colognes
from the newfangled wasteland 

the end
o the end
we live again
o i grow weary of the end 

love is a plague
in a mix-match parade
where the castaways look so deranged
when will the children learn
to let their wildernesses burn
and love will be new never cold and vacant

these withered hands have dug for a dream
sifted through sand and leftover nightmares 

the end
of the end
we live again
oh i grow weary of the end

when they beat
on a broken guitar
and on the streets
they reek of tropical charms
the embassies lie in hideous shards
where tourists snore and decay 

when they dance in a reptile blaze
you wear a mask
an equatorial haze
into the past
a colonial maze
where there's no more confetti to throw 

you didn't know what to say to yourself
love is a poverty you couldn't sell
misery waiting in vague hotels
to be evicted 

you're out of luck
you're singing funeral songs
to the studs
they're anabolic and bronze
they seem to strut
in their millennial fogs
'til they fall down and deflate 

you didn't know what to say to yourself
love is a poverty you couldn't sell
misery waiting in vague hotels
to be evicted 

now you've had your fun
under an air-conditioned sun
it's burned into your eyes
leaves you plain and left behind
see them eyes and fall
into the jaws of a pestilent love 

you didn't know what to say to yourself
love is a poverty you couldn't sell
misery waiting in vague hotels
to be a victim

where will you go
when this day is over
a gambler's purse
lays on the road
straight to your door
snakes have gone crazy tonight
winding their way out of sight 

a laugh, a joke
a sentiment wasted
seasons of strangers
they've come and gone
doldrums are pounding,
cheapskates are clowning this town
who could disown themselves now 

engineer, slow down this old train
cinders and chaff
laugh at the moon
night birds will cackle
rotting like apples on trees
sending their dead melodies...
to me 

i just found me a bottle of blues
some strange comfort for a soul to soothe
ain't it hard
ain't it hard,
to want somebody who doesn't want you 

and i've been waiting for a year, a day
some strange weather must be blowin' my way
cause i got no mind to go or to stay,
or be left behind 

holdin' hands with an impotent dream
in a brothel of fake energy
put a nickel in the graveyard machine
i get higher and lower
i get higher and lower
like a tired soldier
with nothin' to shoot
and nowhere to lose
this bottle of blues 

egos drone
and pose alone
like black balloons
all banged and blown
on a backwoods river
the infidels shiver
in the stench of belief
i tell my momma i'm a hundred years late
i'm over the rails
and out of the race
and the crippled psalms
of an age that won't thaw
are ringing in my ears 

holdin' hands with an impotent dream
in a brothel of fake energy
put a nickel in the graveyard machine
i get higher and lower
i get higher and lower
like a tired soldier
with nothin' to shoot
and nowhere dreams it's a..
bottle of blues 

i just found me a bottle of blues
some strange comfort for a soul to soothe
ain't it hard, ain't it hard,
to want somebody who doesn't want you 

holdin' hands with an impotent dream
in a brothel of fake energy
put a nickel in the graveyard machine
i get higher and lower
i get higher and lower
like a tired soldier
with nothin' to shoot
and nowhere dreams it's a..
bottle of blues
bottle of blues

there's no whiskey there's no wine
just the concrete and a worried mind
cos everone knows death creeps in slow
til you feel safe in his arms
and i've been lookin' for a new friend
and i don't care if he's decrepit and grey 

o maria haven't you known
days so careless
all on your own
everybody knows the circus is closed
and the animals have gone wild
and i've been lookin' for my shadow
but this place is so bright and so clean 

there was no one nothing to see
the night is useless and so are we
cause everybody knows
the fabric of folly is fallen apart at the seams
and i've been lookin' for a good time
but the pleasures are seldom and few

and if its meant
some accident
some coincidence
crumbs fall out of the sky
when you wander by
the dust clouds blow
nobodys home
oh won't you lay my bags
upon on the funeral fire and sing it again 

oh won't you lay my bags
upon on the funeral fire and sing it again

holy mountains
they look so tired
and it's a perfect day to lock yourself inside 

who you foolin' with the fools are right
it's the same thing but it's almost as different
hard to tell when it pacifies your mind
leaves you stranded with a broken engine
lazy desert looks so mangled
let me drown in a convalescent bliss
get up from your bed of rest
been a long time since you've lived
but the static in your mind
leaves you hollow and unkind
with a shock electric wave
turns you on.
you've been flunked out of the devils house
delinquent hygienes are so abrasive
some distortion that's never been known
on the treadmill you've been runnin' forever 

holy mountains, they look so tired
and it's a perfect day to lock yourself inside

be gone

looking back at some dead world
that looks so new
offices and fountains that they named for you
dazzlements of accidents
rejoice their doom
hari-karis spinnin' round the golden looms

girl you dream infections
from a nauseous heart
choice cut meats from derelict boulevards 

hear that lonesome whistle blow
no direction to be known
in a senile of revery
a tearful gaze turns away
eroding cold and grey
scented eunuchs clothe our wretchedness 

looking back at some dead world
that looks so new
offices and fountains that they named for you
so ungrateful to the who's and what's-his-face
terrorist confections look so out of place 

looking back at some dead world...
that looks so new...
looking back at some dead world...
that looks so new...
looking back at some dead world...
that looks so new...
looking back at some dead world...
that looks so new...
looking back at some dead world...
that looks so new...