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about

Speed kills, meth does it quicker

lyrics

F.T.S. (Fuck this shit)

The writer, the speed freak, alone in mid-flight.
His brain, floating wild like a ghost in the night
Accelerates the woe to his mind in a fright,
But want to fly higher blown like a kite.

He’s written it down, a journal on screen,
The rest of his stuff, one day to be seen,
It talks of a life, of a love that has been,
He’s written in haste and vented his spleen.

But he’s tired of it coming back to him now,
He’s avoided the guilt and pins in the highbrow,
But the heat in his head is driving a plough,
That furrows a trench that gets deeper each hour.

“I am what I am, and I hate myself most,
I’ve written a will and relocated the post.”

"It’s three in the morning, I’m walking wherever,
Far away from my house to a station wherever?
And wait on the platform, so long and whenever?
It’s probably time for the gesture whatever?

"I hold my hands in the air, on the tracks and the grit,
With the train in my head, I shout, “Fuck this shit!”

Paramedics in stress, Police not impressed.
Fingerprinting the bits, nursing passenger’s fits.

But what of the after, in this terrible town,
He knew it was sooner. And sooner was down.
Cremated in haste, he’ll never get older,
Lost in the journal colder and colder.

credits

from Bone Architecture, track released September 3, 2021
Harry Stafford - Vocals & keys
Marco Butcher - Guitars, bass, drums

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

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Harry Stafford Manchester, UK

Harry Stafford is guitarist and singer of post-punk-blues-Gothic-rockers Inca Babies. The incas were formed in Manchester UK., in the 80s. In 2015 he decided to release some solo material that echoes his love of Blues Piano and barroom ballads. But 30 years with the incas meant it wasn’t going to be as musically simplistic as that. Guitar Shaped Hammers and Gothic Urban Blues are the result. ... more

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