the shape of FAUXCHISELS to come EP

by Fauxchisels

/
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about

A mission statement. An introduction. An indication. An indictment. A starting point. A forward-thinking reflection. Some songs with some swearing.

credits

released December 16, 2013

Mixed to Tape by Miles Fender @ the streetlight farm, CA - streetlightfarm.com/studio
CD cover printed by Brid @ domakesayink - domakesayink.com
Front cover model: James G
Artwork and Music by FAUXCHISELS
a MAWKISH FAWN release - cat. MF01CD

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Fauxchisels Birmingham, UK

Formed in September 2013 by people with more experience than sense. Based in and around the West Midlands.

contact / help

Contact Fauxchisels

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: Do You Got It?
Do you got it? Human nature
Take what you need. Push your chin down.
Stand for nothing. Ipso facto.
Steal your last breath. Leader! Leader!
PUSH! PUSH!
Hold him under. Hold him under.
PUSH! PUSH!
Hold him under. Hold him under.
Do you got it? Sense of wonder.
Comprendez vous? Pushing, pleading.
I have become you. I have become you.
Be calm, be calm. Leader! Leader!
PUSH! PUSH!
Hold him under. Hold him under.
PUSH! PUSH!
Hold him under. Hold him under.
PUSH! PUSH!
Hold him under. Hold him under.
PUSH! PUSH!
Hold him under. Hold him under.
Do you got it?
DO YOU GOT IT? (repeat)
PUSH!
Track Name: Thunderbugs In My Beard
No right, no sight, not a little contrite, he prowls the Western Lands
Hunts down stray cats with a baseball bat, and a worm on a hook in his hand
No action plan, not a sensitive man, got a date with a club and a cave
The fucking parasite’s loaded but his conscience is corroded and he doesn’t know how to behave

Thunderbugs in my beard, the bugs in my beard…
Thunderbugs in my beard, the bugs in my beard…

No gun, no fun, never killed anyone, but the stains on his jeans don’t lie
Another boy turned sour in a misanthrope’s tower, crying into his sheets at night
No pain, no gain, not a pacifist’s game, gotta rip out the trunk and roots
You can’t leave no cover for a sexist motherfucker who thinks what he thunk was true

Thunderbugs in my beard, the bugs in my beard…
Thunderbugs in my beard, the bugs in my beard…

Thunderbugs in my beard, the bugs in my beard…
(No pain, no gain, not a pacifist’s game, gotta rip out the trunk and roots)
Thunderbugs in my beard, the bugs in my beard…
(You can’t leave no cover for a sexist motherfucker who thinks what he thunk was true)
Track Name: Fox-Kill-Rider
Rider! Rider! Rider!
Hey fox kill rider! Rider! Rider!
High and mighty on your fucking horse, come down lay in the dirt with the plebs and worse
You don’t know what’s ‘round the corner what’s been through your bins
But I’ve seen the receipts and the invoices – YOU’RE FUCKED
Down the swanny and up the creek, pack your bags and join the other creeps
Cos we’re taking over this and we’re taking over that
And we don’t have any room for the heritagely fat
You had your chance you ran it into the ground
Wipe that grin off your face, clean your own fire surround
We’ve taken your estate to clear the bank’s deficit, like you took our contributions and our self-respect
The fox has risen up now
It’s charging down your hounds
It only wanted conversation
Because its politics are sound
SOUND! SOUND! SOUND! SOUND! SOUND!!!

Don’t waste your time and don’t pass go. That’s my £200 and my breakfast show
You can leave your keys under the mat and don’t come back
Cos the dogs are on the fox’s side now
This is ours. Get off our land
Keep your crest. Keep your warped sense of entitlement
And fuck off.
Track Name: Hospital Pass
Psych body right! Psych body right! Psych body right!
Psych body!
Fat chicken neck! Fat chicken neck! Fat chicken neck!
Chicken-livered lily!
Turn that fucking music up! Turn that fucking music off! Turn that fucking music up!
Turn this shit around.
This isn’t a sound bite. This isn’t a sound bite.
This isn’t a commercial. This is mind control.
This isn’t a sound bite. This isn’t a sound bite.
This is mind… control.
They’re coming for you. They’re coming for you. They’re coming for you. They’re coming…
Rank politics! Rank politics! Rank politics!
Pull the fucking bunny.
Hospital pass! Hospital pass! Hospital pass!
Sold a rotten dummy.
They’re coming for you. They’re coming for you. They’re coming for you. They’re coming for you.
They’re coming for you. They’re coming for you. They’re coming for you. They’re coming…
Track Name: Little Red Crawling Things
Crawling… Crawling… Crawling… Crawling…
On your skin a new tattoo
Pressed too hard and followed through
Red little, speck little, crawling things
Of this I shout, and of this I sing…
Crawling up the sewer spout there is one route just one way out
Habitual the rising tide, the crushing flush of suicides
The young will march upon the streets, they’ll pay no bills and pay no heed
As one age ends another pouts, the rain won’t wash the sewers out…

You spelt it wrong your new tattoo
There is no ‘I’ in me and you…

Little red crawling things, of this I shout, of this I sing…
Little red crawling things, of this I shout, of this I sing…
Little red crawling things, of this I shout, of this I sing…
Little red crawling things, of this I shout, of this I sing…
CRAWLING.