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Garrottes - Don't Go Choking Waterfalls

by Garrottes

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  • 16 Page, A5 Booklet with all the lyrics and chords if you have a need to sing along or just want to read what fell out of my head

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1.
EMPTY TARMAC The boy stands in fields struck barren Watching crane necked at the passing aeroplanes Questioning destinations And the small lives that are contained In those thin skinned cigars that cross his face With fleeting shadows Lighter than the dark That wraps muslin fists Around his barely beating heart Oh to cross that tarmac If he even knew it’s name And mount stairs that tap out freedom From this dirt patch that enslaves Escape this senseless fiefdom And the ever dangling grave Headstone spells his name Coffin’s velvet lining contains His barely beating heart The boy lays in bed in darkness Listening for the boards that creak his name Questioning when and why he became the target Of that thin faced man that mother calls in passion When she thinks that he sleeps Though little does she know That same man only has Darkened eyes for His fearfully beating heart his barely beating heart
2.
ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE Just running with the kids when it struck him Vessel burst and he dropped to the ground His little girl cried out daddy when she saw him laid out No chance for a last breath, not even a sigh One minute he’s laughing Next second feeding worms She’s alone now It’s been years since momma left town From sunshine to the storm clouds of state care Future prewritten on a rape’s length of broom Spitting hate for all that abandoned her The knife fit her hand He shouldn’t have touched what can’t be owned Shaped by a fate she could have never foreseen From innocence lost to the blood Splashed up her arms and on her face Her focus as honed as the blade That will cut her in to infamy The books they wrote The theories surmised They’ll never know her name They’ll never understand That the body count Is the tally of misdeeds Put upon her Scrawled on corpses Left on byways She’ll never be found
3.
FAMILY FIRST You look sad business man Is this the flight / that will take you Back home to your faceless wife To your two worthless children To the house you’ll never own Are those thoughts flickering again The ones that run blood red That drip with simple resolution How better to wipe away the Mundane stain that is your life’s Decisions Than with copper soaked baptismal rags Boxes upon boxes, ticked and stacked and lived in Bland cardboard taste tainting your / ulcerated mouth Tension caused the breakout Oh how your gums weep Yet your eyes stay dry What better way to clean up Evidence of a mundane life Than to brush away the mess with Clotted scalps taken from What the world asked you to call Your loved ones
4.
YOU DESERVE EMPTINESS I crawl the darkness and smell the innocence that could be lost So easily You're an arm’s length from the shadows In which I stand I could take you I could rape you Torture and castrate you Or I could let you live to suffer Your meaningless existence And oh I will I stalk the spaces between street lights The emptiness below window panes I see you gather close the chattels That lead you to believe you are fulfilled I am close Or I could let you live to suffer Your meaningless existence And oh I will Those bloody handed Dried up like those homicide Dream wet sheets When I realised that life itself is death Watching you breathe your last continual exhalation
5.
A Song For Dan McKay Sirens woke me screaming From another gore drenched potential reality Family scattered across That dry lake bed To be found by any passerby Subconscious caught red That lake that never was Across from the house No cause to slaughter That mother That father That daughter That son Yet my fictional hands are creased with their blood Like that friend under that Epping garden bed Face turned to a ruptured pulp Naked corpse dumped Behind that car unceremonious The guilt, the waking questions of What have you done Or dreamt I didn't see that friend for months I didn't even know he lived in Epping Until the day I confessed
6.
THE TEACHER I dreamt of death this evening past But of death for whom My taste has no distinctive stripes Leaving trails like logging roads To point the searching bronze toward my delectations They search for the many to explain The rise in pulp stocks around these Plantation locked towns Grim unnatural rows run deep with secrets As if their needle beds are spring melt Washing DNA and ligatures Out to seas uncharted If those sailors were detectives They would still never find The connections Between that child's uric acid lungs teen found lynched back in those devil trees Rural isolation leads to doors unlocked Those forests of safety are no buffer From new education In the field of disappearance Unwanted Of torture so desolate Trust in me I am enigma I am the teacher
7.
Death Becomes Them It is only in the silent fields of death that one may find true solitude Pacing gently the crumbled bricks That traipse between these grey fallen monuments To strangers long consumed back in to their composite parts Taste deeply the sorrow on your dry tongue Drink from vases filled with rain and wilted blooms Lingering back behind the services to no one known Oh that dirt is so soft when at first the spade turns And what's a little graveyard under the nails When heaven is as deep as the average man The pliant softness of smooth skin embalmed Lust lined sepulchre moistened with seed Boudoir is spelt mausoleum now As adipocere creates such waxed delights Skin slipped gloves are lovers anew As the doors to god open daily in this earth consecrated
8.
8_Vultures 03:27
VULTURES (adapted from the short story by Jackson Freud) Jason photographs the dead Scanner crackles like a starter's gun To race the cops, the sirens and gawkers Aperture set to bleak dismay The suicide Murder Car broken corpses strewn on broken roads Developed and hung on cork On the kitchen wall This is sick she says And leaves him To his dead friends His joyful silence unshattered A grey morning captures a faceless man Pins the polaroid to the board He studies it for Minutes, hours, days As the lump he's discovered Grows unchecked, untreated He prays the next vulture Captures his good side
9.
DUKE STREET The old man stands behind A grimy pane of opaque bars And his son still holds the keys Wishing his feeble palsied waves Translated to please help me And his son still holds the keys That frame nailed shut to keep him From telling the world of secrets And his son still holds the keys Bled and dissected and placed so gentle In this house of atrocities And his son still holds the keys And his son holds the key And his son held the scalpel That excised his larynx Yet his son won’t add him to His freezer of keepsakes His revenge is this confined misery And his son still holds the key The old man screams silently As his hunger grows and grows And his son still holds the key In this house filled with frozen meat Choice cuts locked in deep freeze And his son’s thrown away the key
10.
10_The Boy 04:06
THE BOY The boy stares down that locked gate Having trudged the dirt That stretches miles back like His innocence was by that thin faced man Empty tarmac a black finish line To a race punctuated by torture Called by creaking boards No more will he supplicate himself Now the simple choice of left or right Will take him from that homestead Isolated from law by a deep moat of tall grain Dragging left To avoid the lack of rights in his short life He walks, he walks, he walks Under stars that glimmer then fade slow to brass Though it will tear his mother down He’s been torn apart inside and out And what sweeter revenge than Hiding the spider Under the rocks in a yard with stone walls Higher than skies

about

Garrottes is the fully envisioned version of Jono Barwick’s ‘I’m an old man now so I better learn how to sing and play acoustic guitar’ solo output as churned out since circa 2015.

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released April 23, 2021

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Jono Chords Windsor, Australia

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