Good Mourning Britain

by Bladderwrack

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1.
I've been thinking long and hard about what the right life choice is for me I've decided I've got what it takes for a career as a politician, baby I put my morals in a plastic bag and I held them under water ‘til they stopped kicking I drink long and hard from the mirror, When I see and big arse I can not stop kissing I can run your country You can take it from me I can run your country To the bottom of the deep blue sea Someone told me this job was meant to be A calling from the bottom of a heart of gold It's plain to see from the slumped carcasses that are lining the halls that that shit is old I've seen more soul swimming in the Hideous toilets down the local And I can lie with a twinkle in my eye As long as it racks up my grand total I can run your country You can take it from me I can run your country To the bottom of the deep blue sea
2.
Gargoyles 02:02
This is a hit, ha, no matter if it’s shit This is a hit, ha, no matter if it’s shit Gargoyle sits on an upscale tenement Rictus grin like a chimp on Benylin Pipe up the arse from the old hit factory Pump another chorus in and sick it up happily Battery farm anything it comes out wrong A leg, a wing, a head, a beak, a soul is gone Money, money, money, pick a face that fits Mummy, mummy, mummy he’s a lunatic This is a hit, ha, no matter if it’s shit This is a hit, ha, no matter if it’s shit I’ve got a plan: let’s productise art, dood Meat grind the greats and slap ‘em on the barbecue A worthless, mirthless, soulless business Eat them up, shit them out, forget that they existed Battery farm anything it comes out wrong A leg, a wing, a head, a beak, the soul is gone Money, money, money pick a face that fits Mummy, mummy, mummy he’s a lunatic This is a hit, ha, no matter if it’s shit This is a hit, ha, no matter if it’s shit
3.
Tell you they love you, tell you they love you Tell you they love you but you know it ain’t true They just wanna get dirty and they wanna get down with you Tell you they love you, tell you they love you Tell you they love you but you know it ain’t true When the lights go down they just wanna get down with you But I’m on my way, I’ve got a taste For what you want, and I won’t let it go to waste Tell you I love you, tell you I love you I tell you I love you baby look in my eyes And you know that it’s true, yeah you know that it’s true Look at me yesterday, look at me yesterday Look at me then, I was a soft young thing And the same can be said for the ones who are dead But I live in the future now, I’m living the future now I live in the future where the bottle’s still full And the dead can still walk and they’re coming for you But I’m on my way, I’ve got a taste For what you want, and I won’t let it go to waste Tell you I love you, tell you I love you I tell you I love you baby look in my eyes And you know that it’s true, yeah you know that it’s true
4.
Sexy Priest 01:55
Father Brian was a filthy preacher With a volcanic temper and a stick to beat yer At the Christmas service he would charm his serpent And beseech the choirboys to unwrap his present But he never would've ever been a threat to me If he never had’a dressed like a sexy priest Where you gonna run to my sexy priest? How you gonna hide from the two-backed beast? 666 is the number on the door Of the devil’s own syphilitic death squad whore The harvest festival was no exception He would wave courgettes and talk about divine conception After 15 goblets of communion wine He would scream and sway like he'd been crucified But he never would've ever been a threat to me If he never had’a dressed like a sexy priest Where you gonna run to my sexy priest? How you gonna hide from the two-backed beast? 666 is the number on the door Of the devil’s own syphilitic death squad whore
5.
Hit Her 02:09
Uh, ah, come on, hit her Packing up his troubles in an old kit bag When she noticed something written on his red right hand It said: 'Man is a castle and woman is a whore' So she hammered out his troubles on the hardwood floor See Billy was one of those guys who likes to hit A face for Hollyoaks and a brain for shit But the day he took a swing at a woman in need Was the day that woman came to make him bleed She got long white hands, she got big black eyes She got a pure dark mind She got a multitude of reasons to make you sweat Uh, ah, come on, hit her Like the woman with shrunk hand said to me You can never make peace with a weak man's deeds You can pop ‘em, pick ‘em, make ‘em die But you'll never change the fact you made a lady cry The seas will boil, the forests burn The sky turn black and the worm will turn The rancorous stench of the devil’s own seed Will come thundering down from your head to your feet She got long white hands, she got big black eyes She got a pure dark mind She got a multitude of reasons to make you sweat
6.
Demagogue 03:29
The papers today didn’t have much to say The mighty Gleb Chumalov is gonna blow you away Groomed by the KGB, a lifelong presidency The patron saint of death defiles his own country I don’t want to hear it no more Under the cover of night, that pale bald parasite A Bond villain stabbing at world peace with a cold war knife I can ride a donkey, I can drive a tank I can steal my whole country’s wealth And hide it away in an off-shore bank I don’t want to hear it no more Despot. Dictator. Murderer. Traitor. Propaganda and poison shovelled down the throats of all nations. A gangland Gollum in a Temple of Doom. A psychopathic drug lord peddling untruth. A fat American cat on his lap Just give him a slap and he won’t talk back He’s not no fear No morals No shame No mercy. I don’t want to hear it no more.
7.
My name is Donald, I got the blond hair I got the small hands, I got the piggy-eyed stare I got the big house my daddy gave me I got a silky bed that’s wet with gravy I got no real friends but followers aplenty Haemorrhage money ‘til the trust fund’s empty I saw a doctor, he was a Mexican Probably a rapist, though he did all he can To make me better, and then I told him If you want money, you better think again I’ll build a big fat wall so you never get near me You and your friends don’t belong in my country My name is Donald, I am a fuckwit I am the boss here, but I don’t like it Why are you laughing? I’m not a baby I got a bath filled with lovely gravy And I have spunked more money than the bible’s got envy The American Dream shot a fat load in me Global warming? What the fuck? Fascist clampdown? What the fuck? Guns for children? What the fuck? Big red button? What the fuck? My name is Donald, I had a gangbang With Mr Morgan, a chubby Englishman And lovely Nigel, with bulgy eyeballs He put his finger right up my arsehole And then we high-fived Satan in a Moscow gulag And danced all night singing ‘Death to the poor man, Death to the poor man, death to the poor man’
8.
UKIP 02:19
Oompah, loompah, doopety daa I’ve got the people’s interests at heart. Oompah, loompah, what is that smell? My name is Nigel, I am from Hell Sit in my castle, cheeky old rascal Wrapped in a Jack flag and licking my arsehole Fancy a pint mate? As long as you’re not gay ‘Cos here in the UK we ain’t like that As a boy I longed to join the Hitler Youth But then the foreigners arrived and ruined everything good Let’s have a Bisto Moment, remember the past And kick the dirty rotten immigrants right out on their arse UKIP? Nuc it. Gobble it and puke it Bunch of dirty belly-rubbers playing soggy biscuit. Pick it, lick it, roll it, flick it Nigel Farage is the foul man’s ticket Man of the people, moronic and gleeful Face of a fuckwit, forever deceitful So pull up the drawbridge for all but the old Brits The fabulous flavour of Third Reich Light Well I just cannot bear to see my country in ruins As it’s stripped of all its assets through some foreigners’ doing So let’s put up a wall just like my buddy Don Trump I’ll fill up my pockets and then this rat will jump UKIP? Nuc it. Gobble it and puke it Bunch of dirty belly-rubbers playing soggy biscuit. Pick it, lick it, roll it, flick it Nigel Farage is the foul man’s ticket
9.
God 02:16
God? God? There is no God Just a deep, dark hole in the stinking sod Faith? Faith? There is no faith Just the blind brainwashing of the human race Lord? Lord? There is no Lord Just a money-grabbing bigot with a smile and a sword Hope? Hope? There is no hope Just a dirty old man with a knotted old rope Smiley, smiley, happy face Let’s all move to outer space Hate? Hate? We’ve all seen hate He’s a fat blonde clown with a thing about race Grief? Grief? The commander in chief The soul-crushing epilogue to disbelief Hell? Hell? There is definitely Hell There is murder, rape, fury and the hangman’s bell Death? Death? You bet there’s death It’s coming for us all and it’s the only thing left Smiley, smiley, happy face Let’s all move to outer space Twinkle, twinkle, little star I hope to fuck we can get that far Peace? Peace? There is no peace I don’t see anybody wanting peace Love? Love? I choose motherfucking love I choose motherfucking love over God above

about

Recorded live in 1 hour @ Moles Studio
Engineered and produced by Toby McLaren www.instagram.com/t.seventythree/
Mastered @ Black Bay Studio by Pete Fletcher www.blackbaystudio.com

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released November 9, 2019

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Bladderwrack London, UK

Dirty Dickensian Protest Music from London.

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