Ubiquitous Kunt

Below you shall find a lyric that I wrote a few years back but never wrote the music to go along with it. Well I had one bash if I remember correctly but it was crap. I didn’t have the know how or the equipment to put together the sound I envisioned going along with the words. So I let it be.

It was originally titled: Firing Blanks and is an old favourite of a close friend of mine who has been trying to get me to make it in to a song for years. Anyway, I was mixing together some sleazy drum and bass yesterday for a yet to be revealed future project. I had the concepts down. It was set to be about sex and how it is used to sell everything from films to breakfast cereal. I had three and a half minutes of rough audio and the basic structure when out of nowhere I thought: That’s the structure to Firing Blanks. So I had a hunt for the text, jacked in the microphone and gave it a run. It fitted perfectly for tone and structure and the subject matter was  close to the original concept so I’ve kept it in place.

The origin of the lyric is based on personal experience. A raw view of my wild days and the wild women I met along the way. My philosophy at the time was work hard, play hard and when you get hard find a loose lady to relieve the pressure. At that time my alcohol consummation bordered on lethal and I balanced out the month with a selection of recreational drugs. A lifestyle that will leave you burnt out or dead in the long run. Ironically it was when I decided to go sober that life turned to shit but we’ll put that down to Murphy’s law and let the lyric do the talking from this point on.

 

Dark corridors dripping with sweat

Walls painted black, gleaming, wet

Head down, pacing forward

As if in the end there’ll be some reward

Sordid situation with lustful penetrations

Pulling and plugging with violent determination

In to the flesh and out of my mind

So much chemistry, illegally mine

 

Rip and roar

It is time to score

Powder liquids and a

Special offer whore

Come dance with me

I’ll be your infection

Russian roulette hun

That’s your protection so

Use two bullets

 

Mornings are for headaches and regrets

Cold turkey coffee and shivered cold sweats

Questions like: “Who the hell is that?”

Cold slime on her thighs, oozing form her…

Feel like throwing up, spilling caffeine from the cup

The same F..king revelation: “That is enough!”

Spark up, get a drink, get out the door

Enough is just a word, I need some more

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