The Salt Flats

by Nameless

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05:27
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The original blistering single now remastered and expanded. Like a goat riding a bicycle this sensational new collection will both delight and amuse.

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released July 12, 2013

First printing 16th August 2002.
Second printing 12 July 2013.

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Nameless Cardiff, UK

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Track Name: The Salt Flats
September now and the afternoons are colder,
but it doesn't feel like summer's over
even though the rooms have changed.
Too many weeks.
Too many walls.
Too many faces.
Why do this?

And do the thing that he tells you to do
and try to fit into the spaces that he gives you,
even though it holds you faster than ever before.
You've made another mistake.
So why do this?

None of this means anything.

Seemed like a good idea?
Well I told you about that one before,
not that you listened then,
just waited for me to stop talking .
"That's enough about you,
now how about me?"

And do the things that he tells you to do
and try to fit into the spaces that he gives you,
even though it holds you faster than ever before.
You've made another mistake.
So why do this?

September now and the afternoons are colder
but it doesn't feel like summer's over,
even though the rooms have changed.
Too many weeks.
Too many walls.
Too many faces.
Why do this?

And do the things that he tells you to do
and try and fit into the spaces that he gives you,
even though it holds you faster than ever before.
You've made another mistake.
So why do this?

None of this means anything.
Track Name: Sosa
Self obsessed self abuser.
Self obsessed evil bastard.
Quy.
Quy.
Quy.
Wanker.
Track Name: Song for Paterson Joseph
There'd been a noise in my head all day.
I tried to numb it with drink, but it remained.
And the man with the gambler hands
and the Body Shop scents,
offered representation with no commission.

"Imagine all the faces in love.
Imagine all the money you could want.
Imagine all the praise.
It's only oral."

His breath was warm on my neck,
and his words were soft in my head.
The drums grew louder,
until I couldn't stand.
The rhythm filling everything,
he whispered it again.
Sounded like my very best friend.

"Imagine all the faces in love.
Imagine all the money you could want.
Imagine all the praise.
It's only oral."

"Say my name."
"Say it once."

"Imagine all the faces in love.
Imagine all the money you could want.
Imagine all the praise.
It's only oral."

"Imagine all the kids in love.
Imagine all the drugs you could want.
Imagine all the people you could fuck.
It's only oral."
Track Name: Children
All the little tricks
you use to hide who you are,
are tarnished and useless.
But you won't know that yet.

And everything you follow?
Lies produced by imbeciles.
You aren't special.
But you won't know that yet.

And all of your beliefs
are second-hand and untested,
like a badly photocopied timetable.
But you won't know that yet.

No. You won't know that yet

And as with all good advice, you should ignore this.

Everyone you meet
is just as scared as you.
One day it'll tear open.
But you won't know that yet

And all the hatred and contempt
is affected and uninformed.
One day it'll be real.
But you don't know that yet.

And all your dreams and colours
are clearer than they'll ever be again.
But you don't know that yet.

And the future isn't yours.
We haven't finished with it.
But you won't know that yet.

And as with all good advice, you should ignore this.
Track Name: At the arse-end of the rainbow
Broken arms and stoned regrets,
lost weeks writing on a wall,
a giant picture of a human tooth.
Part of another life.

At the arse-end of the rainbow
there's no weekend apocalypse.
So put it all into capitals
and let's go and talk to the dead.

It feels older and more precise,
as cold as a baillif's soul.
A tiny skull made of titanium.
Part of another life.

At the arse-end of the rainbow
there's no weekend apocalypse.
So put it all into capitals
and let's go and talk to the dead.

First you're born,
then it's downhill.
You learn what they tell you,
and you work and work and work without thinking.
And you drink.
And then, when you're too tired for anymore,
they let you die

At the arse-end of the rainbow
there's no weekend apocalypse.
So put it all into capitals
and let's go and talk to the dead.