THE MOUNTAIN TOWN TAPE

by Sister Eugene's Boxing Club

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Written and recorded 2011 - 2013.

Recorded at Church Street House, Maybles Labels HQ, St Nicholas Catholic High School and The Farm.

The folk stories and town history of Sleeperhead.

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released February 26, 2015

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Track Name: THE MOUNTAIN TOWN SIDE A
BACKWATER FLOOD

Black water runs like cattle, burns-
Through the rising heat,
The sky breaks from iron,
As the river aches beneath our feet.

Backwater Flood.

The break of thunder,
Rings deep beneath the ground,
Our fat enriches soil,
As the town is beaten down.

Backwater Flood.

Marble seas are swelling,
Ghosts eat out the open dirt,
The ocean takes my body, as,
Holes reach from below the earth.

Backwater Flood.

Mountains are submerging, in,
The planet of mud,
We watch our surroundings,
Fall to the backwater flood.

Backwater Flood.



FARMER YELLOW'S BOY

Even though I should of known, I couldnt help falling back,
My aching bones, they've staggerd grown, yawed black and fallen slow,
I am Yellow's only boy, the boy with the glowing eyes,
I hold his words and watch the burning wood from last july.

I am Farmer Yellows special boy.

The black farm hand then took the stand, he said what are you doing here,
Places like these can often leave, a man to dissapear,
For everynight I hear the boys, cry beneath the barn,
The sons of soil behind the door, weeping through the dark.

I am Farmer Yellows special boy.

For they will let you starve and drown, like a trumpet in your gown,
The elders throats wont croak a sound, as the water then sucks you down,
The black pea coats they soak the boats and bloody fingers eat in sleep,
They've sewn the holes, now you've grown old, and fallen at the feet.

I am Farmer Yellows special boy.

The farm is cruel and the farm's depressing, and, the train hums from the line,
In Yellow's pond behind the woods, town children come to die,
They see him from the water, they meet him in the spring,
Their little heads reflect in sparks of glass from bloody wings.

I am Farmer Yellows special boy.



THE MOUNTAIN TOWN

The bear kills the buffalo, the moon finds the mountain ghost.
The tiger and the forest goat, tires swing from taut rope.

Our rivers overflow, they flood, the marlin slip down the bank,
No-one, knows which days the rivers will flood, wives prepare their homes.

The crow picks the bones, from the bait's deep, hidden hole.
The ape traps birds, in dirt...the growing earth.

Our rivers overflow, they flood, the marlin slip down the bank,
No-one, knows which days the rivers will flood, wives prepare their homes.

Our mountain town . . .



BELLY OF THE CELLO

My wings have both dried up, my head it shrinks below,
In the belly of the cello, barren fields will not grow.
Fires burn, they consume the earth,
The howling hands of desperate thirst.

A head of shedding birds, breaking beaks on buried stones,
Hearts rock like hammers, through the chambers of your bones.
The fish dont feel fear, in close circles, as they swim,
Their songs of the cello, the chorus of their hymn.

The hole in its belly, the lions broken back,
Dead from exhaustion, the winded white sack,
Foaming fire, of its burning mane,
A fresh death mask, of growing rain.

In the boiling white bulb, heat clings like a web,
Holding tired fingers, in the tight leather bed,
Sleeping naked girl , our sheets curl, slow,
Through the holes of the cello, the night air blows.



MY HOME IS A HOLE

My home is a, hole, in the ground,
A hole that keeps me from being found,
My hole in the ground...
My home is a, boat, on the lake,
A home that waits for the moon to break,
My boat on the lake.
And my, home's on a mountain top and its falling to the sea,
My mountain town is dragging down and the winter's killing me -
I hope I'm found.

My home is a, hole, in the ground,
A hole that keeps me from being found,
My hole in the ground...
My home is a cave, in the woods,
A cave that floods my home with mud,
My cave in the woods.
And my, home's on a mountain top and its falling to the sea,
My mountain town is dragging down and the winter's killing me -
I hope I'm found.

And my, home's on a mountain top and its falling to the sea,
My mountain town is dragging down and the winter's killing me -
I hope I'm found.



I DON'T WANT IT
Words by Joseph Charlton.

When i got you on your back, your skull bouncing off the bed,
I heard birdsong in the craters, of the brain inside my head,
I saw wild in your eyes, like some feral cat been kicked,
And the sweat upon your lashes, soaked the lips you loved to lick.

But don’t want it, baby I don’t want it,
baby it is howling to a moon, that its never even seen,
And I don’t want it, baby I don’t want it,
It has my eyes, my hair, my teeth, But not the knowledge of my grief,
and I don't want it, baby I don't want it.

I never pushed them open, I only entered in,
As with every automatic deed, I surrendered to a sin,
And Your belly swelled up quicker, than the sack inside my bin
Full of blood and rags and liquor, ash and glass and things,
and I don't want it.

I heard crying in the stables, as the sun it cracked the dawn,
screams around the tables, on arrival of new born,
and all the hills kept us hidden, and the jungles followed traces
as i took my burning ship, to all the doctors faces.

But don’t want it, baby I don’t want it,
baby it is howling to a moon, that its never even seen,
And I don’t want it, baby I don’t want it,
It has my eyes, my hair, my teeth, But not the knowledge of my grief,
and I don't want it, baby I don't want it.

I never pushed them open, I only entered in,
As with every automatic deed, I surrendered to a sin,
And Your belly swelled up quicker, than the sack inside my bin
Full of blood and rags and liquor, ash and glass and things,
and I don't want it.
Track Name: THE MOUNTAIN TOWN SIDE B
THE INDIAN TIGER TRAP (FAT CAMP)

The fat camp are working, they take a naked walk,
The girls school laugh and talk,
They sit by the fence in their little white dress,
Their plump legs court all the boys.
The school girls have made them feel, ashamed of their weight,
So they run away...

When the rivers are frozen, the sun coasts down,
On a line peeling through the town,
Lights hibernate but the children wait,
Untill the moon mounts above the lake,
All the little boys who ran away from home,
They soon found themselves alone...

But when they walk back,
They all fall into the trap...
The Indian Tiger trap.

As they fall from the fence, the wet ground is cold,
Midnight woods, a bottomless hole,
All through the week, all the little boys sleep,
with the trees in the forest deep,
The bear weeds them out from their rabbit holes,
By the sound of their tapping bones...

Freezing in the hole, the sediment is mustard,
The bear circles like a buzzard,
They only hear the river in the silence of winter,
Shrinking bellys starve beneathe the timber,
All the captive boys run and try escape,
before it's too late...

But as they run back,
They all fall into the trap...
The Indian Tiger trap.



KURDIST

We stared into the hole,
Hidden beneathe the trees,
To watch the grizzly bear,
Kick as it fell asleep.
We stoned the sleeping cats,
With rocks from the river bed, fed,
Them to starving dogs,
Flies swarm at their breath.

The hunger was over thrown,
The weeks stump it alone,
Scrambled under wires,
With its broken foot,
Its wooden house still stood,
Through the growing wind,
The ground cold black and wet,
The dead fall in to the stream.



LIFE BELOW THE EARTH

I only, see the faces of my town,
Their shrunken heads dont make a sound,
Boat in the harbour beneath the dirt,
Trys to escape the, universe,
In this town I only think of death,
And the day I leave behind my breath,
Then I can start my new life,
Life below the earth.

In Sleeperhead you wont ever dream again,
You think of sleep, and think of when,
The streets shrink, silent as they,
Watch the flood break from the sky.

I only, see the faces of my town,
Their shrunken heads dont make a sound,
Boat in the harbour beneath all the mud and dirt,
Trys to escape the, universe,
In this town I only think of death,
And the day I leave behind my breath,
Then I can start my new life,
Life below the earth.



THE MURDER GHOST

We dress up like, animals,
and we walk down to their farm.
My bear head caught, another one,
as we walked down to the, farm.

The back doors open, their asleep,
the house stays quiet as the crawl creeps,
We tie their cattle up in the kitchen,
and drop dead dogs, down from the window.
Everyone’s dead in the garden,
Their children are buried and its midnight,
Graves stack steep as the farm it sleeps,
and burns in the morning light.

When we hear that sound, we're going to rise out from the ground,
For we're, sailing....to a town where we cant be found,
the town broken down, beneath our sails,
the smell of burning wood and roasting whales,
that we harvest for their fat, to keep us warm,
through the winter black and the hanging storm,
it snaps outside the ocean gates, we watch it all,
fall under the weight.

We dressed up like, animals,
as we walked back from their, farm.
My bear head shon, in the morning sun,
as we walked back from their, farm.

I hit him twice in his tortoise shell head,
and bellows of gum whistled through the cracks,
His face stuck to with bloody plum glue,
Until the coughs turned him on his back.
I couldn't understand what was the matter,
until I saw the blade catch your eye,
heat blew out the center and the brain stood still,
and dead birds fell from out the sky.

When we hear that sound, we're going to rise out from the ground,
For we're, sailing....to a town where we cant be found,
the town broken down, beneath our sails,
the smell of burning wood and roasting whales,
that we harvest for their fat, to keep us warm,
through the winter black and the hanging storm,
it snaps outside the ocean gates, as we watch it all,
fall under the weight.

We stay dressed as animals,
as we fall into our boat,
My bear head rolls,
like falling stones as I lie in my boat.


SLEEP ALL DAY...