Antic Clay, formerly of MYSSOURI

Antic Clay
LYRICS
...More to come...

FROM RECORD 1, HILARIOUS DEATH BLUES

Clean Blues
My friend I see you've strayed so far off track you'd have to hatchet half the world just to make it back. Is a wilderness of death snarling at your heels? Well with fulfillment of a debt your path is re-revealed. If you roll just like a sow in the putrefaction and nothing in the now will give you satisfaction And you crawl upon your knees looking for that specie until your arms are all greased with that golden feces. Is your heart gangrened with avarice? Well, Jesus gonna clean you just like a fish, yeah. Well come on out of that water closet! Something soiled your soul, little man what was it? Did you ascend that dunghill, did you plant your flag? With his arms outflung he'll free you from your plague! If you've been stewing in the humus with those slippery bitches, well Jesus gonna clean you just like a fish, yeah. Little lady in the mirror you're a pink Narcissus! You're turning inside out, you're young and wet and vicious! To call it duty's no deterrent, see, your wisdom's pearled because your beauty's dirty currency in this dark world. Your thinking God is getting hard to see your comely face! He made your body a commodity in this dark place! Well if it pleases you to preen, if your looks are precious, well Jesus gonna clean you just like a fish, yeah.

Broken Throat Blues
Before you name me to yourself, ascribe to me the plot prefigured in my blood, in my extinguished star, long shot, decipher first the themes of my coagulated dreams, and show me one holy thing. One holy thing. And then maybe my broken throat, it might open and sing! I'm tethered to your hand by fine, precarious thread. It's a fine, nefarious plan: The method means the end! Before you name me to yourself, before I'm nailed by the king, just show me one lone ceremony that ain't as vacant as a ring! And show me one holy thing! One holy thing! And then maybe my broken throat, it might open and sing! But a saint is just a name. And I ain't seen nothing, yet. And I worship, and I blame. And I love you like a threat.

The Table of Souls
One thousand steps to the demise of the day. One thousand degrees while the sun flares and wanes. As I stare at the curve of the spine of this land, one thousand bottles pass through my hands. Well they say you've gone under but I saw you ascend holding aloft a gold ring and a brand. Now a thousand meanings have clouded that code, and one thousand sorrows have darkened my road. When will I find the light? How will I use the light? And by my very life do I reduce the light? And will the light that I lack come back to smite my diffident soul? What did my empty hands hold? We came upon that bright plain strangers, one thousand miles til we met on that hill. Then down to the valley where the rain rages--it's one thousand years and it's raging still. Now all cries for mercy they go unheeded. And miseries worsen and miseries pour until finally left to bow down defeated-- A thousand supplicants to the wrath of the Lord. Did we receive the light? Why did we leave the light? To grope a vacant night like naked acolytes gone blind to the Christ from the thousand sights our eyes did behold. Trauma upon trauma upon trauma: One thousand fold. From my chair I stare at the encroachment of night. A herd of women pass through my sights. A herd of men construct castles in clay. I heard you coming from miles away. But I defy you to smile should you look on my face. All the traits you revile are carved into that space. And if you don't want for violence don't speak and don't think. Simply sit there in silence and silently drink. And should we find the light, since we maligned the light, we'll simply act contrite and crawl to paradise. Two parasites for the Lord, restored at last to the table of souls. To the table of souls.

Look Down The Dark Barrel
Well all horses were once riderless and all will be so again! Along the same lines that contract you signed has a rider or two to append! And recourseless like Daedelus well it's a waxen way you wend! You'd like to sue the sun for that lightless run but it's later than that, my friend! So set out, set off like a glowing hunk of chum beneath a new moon! Beneath a dark majestic shark infested sky! And look down the dark barrel! Quick vows are all foresworn! Crooked cross albatross hex-necklace hard-won with an arrow! Is there a beacon on the other end that beckons you nigher to morn? Stay focused but your eyes go compound beneath that canopy of stars! For each chosen one the oaths slur their tongues: "That's destiny, but not ours!" Hey you merchants of avarice--I want an eye for a heart! I want penitents on the fifth terrace of my apathetic art! So set out, set off like a glowing hunk of chum beneath a new moon! Beneath a dark majestic shark infested sky! And look down the dark barrel! Quick vows are all foresworn! Crooked cross albatross hex-necklace hard-won with an arrow! Is there a beacon on the other end that beckons you nigh?

Wainwright A shell of a man is found sandside. A shell of a man on hell's shore A skeletal sutler with bleachy wares Here and there on the scalded floor And this shell of a man held a mirror to the mouth of that man. For the steam of his death or some real evidence of his passing. Wainwright! Wainwright! You repaired nothing. Which way I fly is hell, myself am Hell. I crave the law with my maw but my sentence is for open war. And I'm condemned to the freedom of a tinker in the desert. Just barking my wares across a dessicated moor. Wainwright! Wainwright! You repaired nothing! You'll spend your death upon an ocean. Upon an ocean of pride. And each breath adds to the quotient Of what you accede to abide. You'll drag your dray through a wasteland Hocking your trinkets of nothing Wainwright was also a sawbones But all you believers are bluffing. You're bluffing. Wainwright! Wainwright!

Violence is Yours A skinned hare spinning in a window breathed a phrase onto the hazy pane: "Violence is yours. Violence is yours." A horsehead on a stake in the center of my bed smiled and wept and this is what it said: "Violence is yours. Violence is yours." A black pram ambles down a dirt road. A baby's cry broadcast within. It's clearly just an old recording. But between those cries the message lives! Violence is yours! Violence is yours!

Islay and Ale Islay and ale! Islay and ale! I drink to the devil who summoned the gale! That swept me from the heaven of her womanly charms To the tavern for Islay and ale! Once laying by the fire with Kristen McMahon She asked why so gloomy? Was my stout heart straying? I smiled and I whispered in her ear tenderly: I'm going down to McTighe's for a taste of the sea! Islay and ale! Islay and ale! I drink to the devil who summoned the gale! That swept me from the heaven of her womanly charms To the tavern for Islay and ale! Once after a show up in north Inverness Some sweet daughter enters and she starts to undress Well her young hands they veer as she's swaying her hips But there's only one 16 Year I want on my lips! Islay and ale! Islay and ale! I drink to the devil who summoned the gale! That swept me from the heaven of her womanly charms To the tavern for Islay and ale! If you've got a taste for ashes and you've got a taste for wood; And for warm brine and iodine and oak barrel--that's good! But there's one minor matter for our aged whiskey peat: You should be whipped and sent home if you don't drink it neat! Islay and ale! Islay and ale! I drink to the devil who summoned the gale! That swept me from the heaven of her womanly charms To the tavern for Islay and ale! So when you're salty and sullen and the dark night is near Well just take Lagavulin and a dark pint of beer! No, it ain't quite a tonic for this sad mortal coil-- But you'll aquaint your fat body with its origins in soil!

On Holy Mountain On Holy Mountain I took her hand, I took her hand and led her there. Up to my nightfire, which I rekindled and sat to regard her ember stare. On Holy Mountain, God knows where. I told her stories of days forgotten. Embellished things that I don't know. Stories of young men, young men who fought and died and darkened all the snow On Holy Mountain, lying in a row. On Holy Mountain she took my hand and she held it to her breast. I grew a beard and she grew a baby and all our histories coalesced. We're elemental as fire and stone and mountains born within the sea. The iris widens, inhales the world, then dives to refocus on those three on Holy Mountain, remembering what will be. On Holy Mountain, remembering what will be.

DECADES (Joy Division, "Closer" 1980)

Thousand Star Hotel
Well, tonight we sleep in a thousand star hotel Among the stars and where they fell through the turning sky Where the twilight creeps in slow motion carousel Our thousand star hotel where fire flies I know that you're scared that I'm gonna hurt you I know that you're thinking I'm a little too sad and wild And I ain't saying that I'm some paragon of virtue But neither are you child. I see it in your smile. Well it's not my fault God put you there when I was starving But maybe now you'll know what they mean when they say "saved." And there's lots of folks who don't die, but just stop living. And I've always had the feeling that both our paths were paved. And tonight we sleep in a thousand star hotel Among the stars and where they fell through the burning sky Where the twilight creeps in a slo-mo carousel It's a thousand star hotel where fire flies I'm done with imagining how brilliantly we'd burn It's my imagination that's kept me still this long. I want to see you gasp and rise and suddenly turn to me and whisper something--something scarily strong. Well you're a candle of a girl--you light the world and consume yourself. I want to take your hand little girl and show you a truer wealth. And tonight we sleep in a thousand star hotel among the stars and where they fell through the churning sky and the lights do creep in slow motion carousel. It's our thousand star hotel, with fireflies.

FROM RECORD 2

Non-Prophet Blues
I lost my faith. I can't believe it! I lost my place in heaven above! If God is love, if God is love, then what am I? What am I? I lost my way along the way! I stared at the sign for some kind of proof! If God is truth, if God is truth, then why would I lie? 'Cause I want to be the king! Look at my eyes! They want everything! To sing! To shout! Of things that matter! But I sink in doubt, in shallow waters! Yeah I want to be the king! Soar high and wise above my underlings! But my fuselage flies through mutinous skies! And all my grand designs demand my demise! So I lost my faith. I can't retrieve it. This life is a trial, and I'm the defendant! If God is vengeance. If God is vengeance! Well we all have it coming! We all have it coming! Copyright 2005 FurnaceSongs Publishing. All Rights Reserved.

Tithing Blues
Once a frayed and flaring vision, it alit upon my sill! It sang of swine in rancid wine and hearts a-stewin' in a still! Well I gave homage to the image: "I serve thee only, unto death!" But she exhaled her exortation with fluttering eyes and fetid breath! "You're a little behind on your tithe, brother! You're a little behind on your tithe, brother! You're a little behind on your tithe, brother! You're a little behind on your tithe!" So I slithered to the kitchen with her a-bouncin' on my spine! I said, "Did I neglect to mention that I'm erecting you a shrine? Well it's a glorious inculcation built with steerage from above! To deflect the inculpation that I can't bear your grisly love!" But she said, "You're a little behind on your tithe, brother! You're a little behind on your tithe, brother! You're a little behind on your tithe, brother! You're a little behind on your tithe! Yeah you're a little behind! Don't forget what you signed when all the terms were defined: What is yours, what is mine! And now your tithe is your time! You can watch it unwind, my brother!" Copyright 2005 FurnaceSongs Publishing. All Rights Reserved.

Undrown Yourself
Where treads the dread traveller now? Well there's a shade and it's crossing your threshold! You saw a road open wide on the other side of your door! What dreads the dead reveller now, where the river harbors a fossil? You saw the sun through a gauze 'til you found a loose stitch and you tore! Undrown yourself! Your empty hands hold a boundless wealth! And if your freedom is a prison, it is because it isn't! Uh-huh. Uh-huh! Don't seem so bedeviled now, 'cause it's four o'clock in the morning, and marked on the eye is a well-clothed whore on the buy! So goddamned dishevelled, wow, but you finally took stock of your blessings! Can't cleave to a dream of just leaving those bags behind! Undrown yourself! Your empty hands hold a boundless wealth! And if your freedom is a prison, it is because it isn't, uh-huh. Uh-huh. Copyright 2005 FurnaceSongs Publishing. All Rights Reserved. All Songs/Lyrics Copyright ©2004 FurnaceSongs
All lyrics by Michael Bradley