Papa Shiteholez Gonna Nail Ur Eggz

from by Lapsus Linguae

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Using crowd - funding, we were able to fund a limited pressing of 300 heavyweight picture-discs, with all our backers thanked in an insert which will be included with every copy of this edition.

    Around 130 people backed the project - we can now offer the remaining copies through mail-order.

    The artwork was designed by band member Penelope Collegefriend. It's 45 rpm, with two tracks on the first side and the third track on side B.

    The 12" comes in a transparent PVC wallet, and will be posted to you in a high quality cardboard record mailer.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Ghosts via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 300 

      £10 GBP or more 

     

lyrics

Spermatozoon, gnawing my womb
Bitchtoffee, auspices of doom
I don’t get to see this part of the room very often
Whatever tugs your bait
Whatever rapes your date
My work is largely unappreciated

I’m sleepwalking through papa’s
secret sundered totality;
I am Papa Shitehole’s
diet - I’m heavy in protein.
Past my leg scurries Papa’s
closet penchant for Disney songs,
fleeing the scene, mewling
“Papa hates you.
And rapes you.
And nails your eggs.”

In his dank, crumbling tower
Eros bleeds, castrated by bow strings
face contorted with effort
He draws hubris from the well.
He ascends one thousand
flights of steps to the pent house;
There he slits Aphrodite’s
throat with a leaden arrow head.

Over balconies, tsunamis
empty from Eros’ bucket,
leaving land pristine, like a latrine pissed clean.
The boy is coming to nothing.
He doesn’t want this world to survive him.
Now contented, he’s humming -
“Daddy, I nailed your eggs”

The league for the exacerbation of gender politics.
Stock car races.
Zips.
Skirts like Barnett Newman strips
Collisions.
Gear crunches.
Asphyxiation as foreplay.
Skids.
Junkyard derby.
Nine inch heels,
barely fucking standing.
Great tits.

Hooked on porn,
addiction is a tumour;
Guaranteed to spread like the ugliest rumour.
So too your legs the defence will explain to
the assembled jurors dragging out
streams of useless history
like gaily coloured handkerchiefs
from third-rate magicians sleeves.
Abracadabra!
More reasons to hate you, forsake you!

Daddy drops before I can deflower him
Mother’s cunt reloads before I can violate its possibility

credits

from Ghosts, released January 17, 2014
John Campbell - Double Bass
Penelope Collegefriend - Guitar / Synth / Vocals
T-Bone the Magnificent - Bass
Magaloof Taylor - Piano/Vocals
Raga Wu - Drums

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