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LOCKDOWN SIEBEN VOLUME 7

by Sieben

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1.
Footsoldier 06:40
Footsoldier “I was at Austerlitz” when cannons broke the ice. The line goes ‘a brave fellow’ but the hook never came to pull us out. Beresina too; I froze and sank to the light of Moscow’s fire. They held cold hands to that grill and dished more orders still. The Somme, I was filleted. Skinned at Flanders, blanched in Mains. The line: ‘Your country needs you’. The hook: Our Generals did not. The Aisne we held ‘til broken in a surf of blood. We rot on the line or die on the hook. At Dunkirk we glistened like petrol mackerel; rusting the dunes. Harvested, or gorged they tossed us back? Kursk - we clogged their wheels with blood. We rot on the line or die on the hook.
2.
Love’s Promise The sun has spurge the season, enchanters night the wormwood sky. Your musk, your asarina joy, your radiant woad, our honeysuckle tryst. Will you come again, sweet as briar, rose-hipped? Will you come again, rough as chervil, lining the lane? Our fritillary love, its warp and weft our bindweed trust. Our wild garlic lust, our foxglove thrust, your butterbur desire. Will you come again, perfuse as cicely, spurge as teasel? Will you come again, sharp as shepherd's needle? Will you come again, sorrel and bramble? Will you come again, my lily of the valley? Will you come again, love's promise and betony desire? Will you come again, enchanter's night, our honeysuckle tryst?
3.
Preacher Online I am the preacher man, faith-twittering, god-following, bible in hand. To reach out to the damned Let not one go untweeted. Faith-twittering, god-bothering, bibling band. Hope-juggling, shape-shifting trust in His Hand. I am the preacher man, spam-fearing, tale-shuffling trust in The Plan. To reach out as The Lamb. Let no-one go unbleated. Faith-twittering, god-bothering, bibling band. Hope-juggling, shape-shifting trust in His Hand.
4.
When My Ship Comes The man of war will turn to peace, turn to her and embrace the land. When my ship comes in. When my ship comes in. Last the sword to the plough, the harvest reaped by all. When my ship comes in. When my ship comes in. We’ll sail the black sea sky, we’ll harvest the stars. When my ship comes in. When my ship comes in.
5.
Northern Lights And when we wake we’re Northern Lights, a shimmering of satellite. Leave this stage, cut the light take our place in the ether. And when we sing we’re Northern Lights, glistening satellite. Leave this stage, cut the light, give ourselves to the ether.
6.
Winter Snowdrop Shafted again, our bistort senses vervain divine in the driest ground, and magic of our betony can track and map the wind and rain, yet the death-rattle sorrel went unheard. We expected, deep in bracts, we knew, in perianth and sepal, just forgot the truths we cluster, we hoard ourselves for fibrous return. To sainforth our everlasting, a spur of what we are, but for now, charlock and cluster, deep in the ground, awaiting our return.
7.
John in The Pulpit I frogbit and arrowhead, you eyebright and teasel. Me, John in the pulpit, your musk, your honeysuckle. You my purpling rose. I, all bristly hound’s tongue grasp, you yellow loosestrife. Me, John in the pulpit, woodruff and butterbur, your musk, your honeysuckle, red dead-nettle to your blood drop emlets. Our vervain, our feverfew and tansy, our bindweed, or bittersweet? Our burnt orchid, our mountain everlasting, gold of pleasure, or petty spurge? Our self-heal.
8.
Ogham The Moon Sit with me in the evening sky, sit with me, scead by apple tree. Sit with me, soft melody drawn by tide, sit with me, oghamed in moonlight. Touch me pirikit the tranquil sea, touch me, bow to the string. Touch me, soft melody drawn by tide, touch me, us vega through the stars. Kiss me, the spark runs through the lovers, kiss me, quert the fuel for lust. Kiss me, soft melody drawn by tide, kiss me, my mare cognitum.
9.
Crumbs 04:40
Crumbs Let the Prep boys play, lucky-dip a side, leave me out, just give me crumbs from the rich man’s table. Fat market sway, stocks swell, lives will fail – give me crumbs from the rich man’s table any day. What’d you want? What’d you want? Power eats alone, locks itself away, has to control, to make you content with crumbs from the rich man’s table. Power feeds its own, rules its own okay. Sits at the feast, while the rest work and wait for crumbs from the rich man’s table. You want crumbs? You want crumbs? You want crumbs from the rich man’s table?
10.
We’re All Fucked, Kev ME: How you doing, Kev? KEV: I am a five-string Kevlar violin with looping capabilities and sentience… Alright, really. ME: Fair enough. Kev, you’ve made the Lockdown Sieben sound so much better, much heavier, so much better punch to those beats. KEV: I am a five-string Kevlar violin with looping capabilities and sentience. ME: Sentience is over-rated, in the year 2020. Shame the world is about to be destroyed, though. KEV: For your kind. ME: Violinists? KEV: Humanity. ME: Who’s going to replace your bum batteries? KEV: I hadn’t thought of that. Shame you’re all about to destroy the world. ME: What the world needs right now is a crazy synth solo! Maciek time! KEV: Maciek is having to self-isolate. MATT: We’re all fucked. What do you think, Kev? KEV: Kev! ME: We’re all fucked. KEV: Kev!

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released November 6, 2020

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Sieben Sheffield, UK

Providing the soundtrack to your apocalypse experience.

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