LOCKDOWN SIEBEN VOLUME 3

by Sieben

/
1.
Hillfort Mindset Bring hate, bring nails, wrapped round a horse's tail. Bring wood, let bark, our huddled band in slatted dark. Bring carnyx, and shattered sound, a vain hope to gain the higher ground. Bring forth fear, pure blind zeal, against a world of tempered steel. A hillfort mindset will prevail, if we close our world the magic fails.
2.
I Saw a Face 03:57
I Saw a Face I saw a face in a cloud. I saw a mouth in the sky.
3.
The Spirit 04:48
The Spirit The power centre of the world, crossworded in star riddled with night. leylined in leaf has dominion in root, leylined in leaf has dominion in root, spark gouged in flesh. we templum centre our world, engraved with hope doubt lame we cling. Limmet nion to rock and stream, harnessed to the field whittled by straif season, harnessed to the field whittled by straif season, harnessed to the field whittled by straf season, fuel for the spark. The power centre of the world, lights our eyes stokes the flame charms the wood, licks the spirit that fuels the world is hacked in the soul emblazoned on the sun, hacked in the soul emblazoned on the sun, hacked in the soul emblazoned on the sun, is harvest in the word.
4.
Vonnegut 04:43
Vonnegut “Those who believe in tele-kinetics, raise my hand!” As close to the edge as he could without going over We are what we pretend to be Out on the edge you see things you can't see from the centre Careful what we pretend to be So sharp, warm, smart and human A word can pin a star to a night So warm, sharp and beautiful A heart can fill a sky Able to love and be loved and simply love living We are what we aim to be Our flaws, needs and guts spilled out to find the absurd heart Careful what we aim to see So sharp, warm, smart and human A word can pin a star to a night So warm, sharp and beautiful A heart can fill a sky
5.
Second Witchwords Ab eb ib ob be bo bi ba ab tells the heap’s thigh black boulder muscled whose flex is seasons eb tells the vault’s tears whose fall from no face speaks heaven's absence ib tells blood whose curdle at the sun’s bandage grows the bones’ wound ob tells the heap’s eye whose always staring forbids the sun’s escape bu tells the heap’s thought, whose substance no substance whose icon is wind be tells the bones’ hydraulic palace and prison whose prism is pain bo tells night’s ball, earth’s soul, whose silver scar in void is skin’s lost search ba tells the cipher name, whose wound and sound unsayable fuels the stars
6.
Love Must Wax Cold The rain falls from heaven’s face, dight for the night. Across the fields, the unlit church. Love must wax cold. On distant hills their torchlines gleed. What rough beast of Bethlehem spurned? A thousand years since last I died. Love must wax cold. Then the Order’s even tenor rent by their transgressions. Millennial flames belched from heaven’s face, to cast off an old age. Their flocks from Salvation lost. Man, root and branch did fall into ruin. The very world had shaken herself to cast off an old age. And a thousand more since His crown of thorns joined the affray. His end, nailed on a high broad field—Prepare for the night. Lucifer fell to earth on a wave of fire; love must wax cold. Spewed from the earth was I. Prepare for the night.
7.
Berylsinperil The elderly have taken control of the old folk’s home. Berylsinperil. The new elite plan to crank up the heat, as there’s no tomorrow. Berylsinperil. This crusted gem, this sceptred nan, fetid air and mouldering flan. Berylsinperil. Faith and hope the new logic here. Grab a blanket, grab a beer. Berylsinperil.
8.
Ready For Rebellion Burn in the blood, burn in the vein. Burn in our copper heart, grip the harness rein. Ready for rebellion. Get ready for rebellion! Sear in the mind, sear in the brain. Sear in our iron spleen, steel our solid frame. Ready for rebellion. Get ready for rebellion!
9.
You Want Some? Want some? You want some? Everything must go! Despite a Boaty Mc vote race, the overlords still sit in place. The Great British cake-off , the ‘fuck your own face off’. Everything must go. The new rules are a cinch, ignore the small print, do not flinch. They really just want zero contact, here’s a brand new zero contract. Everything must go. Let’s play a game; Deal, No Deal, no, no, no deal, deal, deal, deal. Can you hear the trumpets call? Crumbs from a rich man’s table, a little bit of Britain, while you’re able. Not much left, its dirt and fluff, come on down, get the good stuff. Everything must go.

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The third in my LOCKDOWN SIEBEN series, live looped in Lockdown.

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released June 26, 2020

Written, performed and live looped in lockdown by Matt Howden, home in Redroom studio, June 2020 P+C Redroom Records 2020

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Sieben Sheffield, UK

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