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Excitation Thresholds

by YARDS

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1.
Gleaming, Island life begins to settle down, Ocean breeze plays with that wet hair and you called, Called me to the board, Where the fruit bowl lies rotting. Manage time, Saddle up, Sharpen up, And I told them, Their their vision was pure. I told them their voice would be heard on the moon. I drank the antidote too fucking soon. Is the patriarch on borrowed time? Borrowed time. It shuffles its feet at you,
While it tightens its grip on the door. Future tyrants fall asleep,
Rest their heads in country air;
They sleep so sound without a fucking care. Guts.
You are reborn.
2.
Prestige, Rich in protein, Inscribe, The vortex swallows those heavy limbs. Reflection, Polished torso on the plate glass. High five. The vortex swallows those heavy limbs. Wave goodbye as paralysis sets in. Left to rot and I swum right up to you, Black void, So desperately beautiful. White string thrown deep in my ear, A shining light in the darkness; So clear. Hunt down, Your shadows, Isolation. Survive, The human stall. Tie it tight, Tie it tight, I’m the wraith in the darkest of nights. Twilight, Left alone. A million planets to call my home, Twilight, And endless stars. The printer vomits those 3D dreams, Beware. Red planet, Death dealer, No time is never a healer, Gave up so far from home, You are always alone. Red wound, Red demon, All time is crushing and endless, Gave up so far from home. You are always alone. Twilight and starlight, And it goes on and fucking on, Until the dawn, You are always alone. So close to home, You are always alone.
3.
Took away our thinnest duke, Left his innards, And tossed around his sugared skull, yeah. You rung me up and sang his fucking songs,
Down the phone to me. I couldn’t speak but you didn’t care. And in a heartbeat it made a difference, And in that wooden thud it came alive, oh. You glue those shining stars around your door, And oh oh oh the waterworks won’t spill a drop. An orange grove of cretins stumble up. I’ve got my hands nailed shut, We’re only human. Dawn chorus of blood work hitting the shores, Where’s your evil live? Tide of limp pricks on the ocean floor. And in a heartbeat it made a difference, And in that wooden thud it came alive, oh. You glue those shining stars around your door, And oh oh oh the waterworks won’t spill a drop. Call me Ishmael, Can I call you a god? In an epileptic fit all you do is nod on the floor. Death, Well it flops to the floor. Dicks, Still they flap on the floor. I’m bored of describing all the fucks I give no more.
4.
War Tourist 01:57
This beach, She goes for miles. We’re taking photos, Pulling teeth. Commentary speaks of the cavalry. Wet behind those teenage ears, But you’re distant and it’s fate. This is history’s mistake. Losing sons like you’ve got them all to spare. I really do not care. I am distance. I am fate. I am deathless and ingrate: really quite the guy. Blissed out, Roll out your love. When you’re home, let your guard right down.
5.
Crept through the kitchen window like a viking curse born on the breeze. You’re on you feet when it oats in, You’re on your knees when it leaves. And we talk amongst ourselves. And it comes true for you and me. Let the painting stop we’ve got fucking rooms to clear, Feral waif in the corner, There’s a little whisper in your ear. Burn the other girls and let them shine like polished stone. Never let it be said that we stood around. End.
6.
The Attic 04:02
That’s my gift, Now watch them all fall silent. With every false lash the colour drains, Drains right from the sky. When you burn my shoes you’ll feel the strain of a life with a covert view. If the children find out we’re moving south. And if the children find out it’s over. So it begins, In cold bones. Changing the guard, Rotten dead soul. Rites can burn, I’ve buried dogs before. A golden dawn before you, And a golden fucking throne. And you dwell within the first air, Held to the earth.
 I have summoned up the weavers, 
And spun you a home. Your homes become the dwellings, Of the beast of the field, pulling open mouths, That beg to scream yield. Beg you don’t roll. Seasons, Let them confound. There’s deadlights, Down beneath the fucking ground. You made a man now put him in the earth and all this dust will be settled, On the mound. Seasons, Let them confound. There is reason, Where you’re fucking found. Well this dust mound, Only caters for love. All this death and silence, Shadows, Shadows, Back in the dirt and light for you.
7.
BL-755 03:16
Postcard of love. Sitting in the school yard. What a way, To dissect nature. Enticing. Can you see the glint. In the rubble, Next to your friend. Proud, Suppliers, Our present to you, Rest in peace. Innocent, Admired, For your own good, Rest in peace. If they fuck a dead body, With your dick, They’re still fucking it with your dick. They’re still fucking it with your dick. With your dick.
8.
Moon Choker 03:13
Billy clubs, Twitter handles, Hound at the moon ’til you’re through. Too proud, Now you blew it and continue to do so in death. Redeemer, No redeemer, You spit on the ground when you’re told to. No split moon. No face in the cloth; Water marks. Have some faith in those normal men, They got faith in you. Sun - warmth - grow. Have some faith in those average men. Sun - warmth - grow. Have some faith in complex men,
They’ve got faith in you.
Let them work
For your better life, Pay them well for your blessed life. Tell them you’ll right their wrongs. Tell them what you think with your fucking phone. Say it, Say it too. Doom. Bring your beauty home, As a candle in the gloom. Doom. Fuck your feral life, One last time.
9.
Dehumanise me, Pour scorn on my mundane life. This world shows you its distaste, Recollections of asylums at night. My brethren, Profuse to know my wish, Settling scores with a sense of pride. Another tale, Another flick of the wrist, Blown image electrified. I’ll celebrate your life when it folds, Show your so called courage to those mediocre friends of yours. The pleasure and the pain, The joyful and the dark, This agency makes you wet. Obedient disciple amongst those insects crawling round your head. I’ll celebrate your life when it folds, Show your so-called courage to those mediocre friends of yours. Alone, Waste of life, All quiet on the bail recommendation. Pour scorn, Pour scorn all over me. So reckless, Reveal it. So reckless, Dumb scorn. Pour scorn. So reckless.
10.
Too many people, Fell in the abyss, I fathom from afar. Bluest of eyes, Softest of hands, Greenest of hearts, Indelible mark. The gold of her hair, The shadow of love, Floods over my home, You’re never alone. At the golden gates, Follow me down. At the wrecking of heaven, Follow me into ground. Ground - down - home. Down deep wells, Shadow dweller, Shadow Dweller killer. The gold of her hair, The shadow of love. Floods over my home, You’re never alone. Run home, Run free, Run home to me. That dawn, Always run to me, That dawn, Always kissing the floor. That dawn, Always right in the throat for me, That dawn, Always sticks in the throat. Run home, Run free. In the deadest of nights you run. Run home, Run free, Run home to me.

credits

released August 25, 2017

All songs written by YARDS.
Lyrics by Lacey / Rainey.
YARDS is Thomas Lacey, Paul Rainey, Hugh Harvey, Alex Polakowski.
This album was recorded in the spring of 2017 by Wayne Adams at Bear Bites Horse Studios.
Wayne engineered, produced, mixed and mastered this album.
Co-produced by YARDS.
All photography by Andrew Polakowski.
Artwork by Thomas Lacey.
Released by Truthseeker Music.


A huge thanks has to go to Wayne for his passion and patience in helping us bring this record together.
To Alex, Phill & Stephen from Truthseeker Music, all we can offer is our gratitude and surprise that you wanted to back this band, it means the world to us.
We use Dutton Amplifiers, and proudly so.
We’re lucky to have some of the best bands and musicians in our circle of friends, so to everyone that has shared a stage, van or motorway service station with us, thanks for the memories and support.
If you picked this album up, therefore you make this list.
Thanks for keeping real vinyl culture alive by actually playing this record rather than just hanging it on your wall like a fucking art work. Good for you kind patron.
A final thanks and apologetic shrug goes to our long-suffering friends, family and loved ones for putting up with us. See you out there.

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Truthseeker Music Falmouth, UK

Record label based in the UK. Owned and run by Alex, Phill and Stephen.

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