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Handsome Anthems
05:10
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You don’t know me
I cannot be known
You’re always with me
But I’m always alone
I’m sure you’ll find me hollow
emptinesses redound
you can leave me feeling callow
empty, useless, unwound
I’ll pin my grief and wit
like a slow fading corsage
onto your myopic love
blinded by my badinage
Deny my super-fictions
Transversals through convictions
addictive contradictions
oh baby how ‘bout
cha fuck me up
missy get my freak on
fuck this prig outta me
he’s got to go down
Handsome anthems in fashion
Echo through your glass mansion
you throw rocks for reaction
but baby how ‘bout
cha fuck me up
missy get my freak on
fuck this prig outta me
he’s got to go down
We fit into each other
as only broken people do
lady Mailer you come out swingin’
and I dig your ballyhoo
Mutually constructed
to completely fall apart
who will destroy the other
to protect their frightened heart
Deny my super-fictions
Transversals through convictions
addictive contradictions
or baby how ‘bout
cha fuck me up
missy get my freak on
fuck this prig outta me
he’s got to go down
Handsome anthems in fashion
Echo through your glass mansion
you throw rocks for reaction
but baby how ‘bout
cha fuck me up
missy get my freak on
fuck this prig outta me
he’s got to go down
my life as your distraction
your distractions my élan,
with you as my Piaf
I’m sure to fly like Cerdan
Falling through the ether
I know there’s nothing I can do
the ground is rushing at me
promising something new
Deny my super-fictions
Transversals through convictions
addictive contradictions
or baby how ‘bout
cha fuck me up
missy get my freak on
fuck this prig outta me
he’s got to go down
Handsome anthems in fashion
Echo through your glass mansion
you throw rocks for reaction
but baby how ‘bout
cha fuck me up
missy get my freak on
fuck this prig outta me
he’s got to go down
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A CONCISE HISTORY of JOY Winnipeg, Manitoba
A CONCISE HISTORY of JOY began because I was hearing a kind of electronic pop in my imagination that I couldn’t find in the real world. It was synth pop, but it was punchy and raw and buzzy and bombastic . . . and it was beaten to a pulp by a gang of relentlessly pummelling cranky-old-low-bit-floppy-disk-eating-80’s-industrial drum machines. It's Brutalist Pop. ... more
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