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Spoiled Portion

by Slunq

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  • Limited Edition Compact Disc
    Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

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about

Our debut album, Spoiled Portion, is a collection of robust yet mangled rock songs for your pleasure.

credits

released September 12, 2012

Peter Dahl Collins - Drums, Bass
Chris Collins - Guitars
Daniel Knowler - Vocals

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Slunq UK

Slunq are Peter Dahl-Collins, Chris Collins and Daniel Knowler. They make noisy, spiky rock music.

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Track Name: Pig Stick
Trails of salt to kill the slugs.
A pig, a stick, a blindspot complete.

Then there was such leaping and things
and shouting and things and stuff.
I wear my shirt to kill the bugs. The germs who live
in snow and sleet.

A blindspot:  complete.

Silence well timed is blind. 
Don't you miss a trick.  It's sick. 

Lines and faults and sticks and rocks
keep me on my feet. 

Then there was such leaping and things
and shouting and things and stuff.
I wear my shirt to kill the bugs. The germs who live
in corn and wheat.

Silence well timed is blind. 
Don't you miss a trick.  It's sick. It's sick.
Track Name: Permea
Weak eyes on me.
Weak spires, chimneys.
Fast light,
long beams which burn out,
burn down.

Motion slows down,
gravity burns out,
motions slows down.

Heat death.
Ice cream and crows legs
slowed down to freeze frame.

Entropy.

The dust forms accretions around my mouth.
Swallow the sound.
Swallow the clouds as they...

Have wrists, will drown.
Motion burns out.
Burn out burn down.
Motion slows down,
gravity burns out,
motion slows down.
Track Name: Have Not
We all dressed up as thieves 
while eating from the dog's plate.

We all bent up like priests and
eating from the dog's plate.

We've seen the cattle, pregnant, walking over the waste.
Perfect perfumes like rotting fruit
at the cusp of blame. 

English-size,
we've been the meat and we've been the maid.
Like with perfume, it's a sliding scale.
It's a beekeeper's grave.

Wake up in the sea,
"it's me" she says, "you're brain's awake".

Swim to the light.
Swim 
and try waving your fins 
and my arms strain

Run to the light.
Flight.
The right building's in sight
and my heart strains
Track Name: Caught In Amber
Do you remember cracks and lines through walls?
Write down your patterns for us to crawl.

How many pieces?
How many inside jobs?

We'll go apeshit in the garden's shady hiding place .    
Cracks in amber, spoiled portion taking up our space . 

Don't try to tell me it wasn't your hand.
A thousand years could pass
before you're erased.

Ants in amber, flies 
on the body, it's lies
it's lies.
Ants in amber, flies 
on the body, it's lies
it's lies.

We'll go apeshit in the garden's shady hiding place.     
Ants in amber, flies crawling over the front page.

Cracks in amber, spoiled portion
taking up our space.
Track Name: Ten Points Of Light
The fish we catch,
black holes in sacks.
A golden mean inside.
Pile up, divide.
And sorry words writ on dead windows
say things like, "fire away" and "go go go".

Swords, knives,
ten points of light.
We strive to take a drop of medicine.

The rats we catch
eat through the sack
and right through the grid.
Tighten the lid.

A loving man in charge of sticks
picks through the bits all glorified.

Swords, knives,
ten points of light.
We strive to take a drop of medicine.

Swords, knives,
ten points of light,
well timed the beast inclined to grow.

Perfection.
Let's try to get lunar and bleed.
Welcomed back into the town
with sticks and gloves.
Well timed the beast inclined to grow.

Last trick: Let's get lunar and bleed!

Swords, knives,
ten points of light.
Swords, knives,
ten points of light.
Track Name: Rosemary
Rosemary howls for her dinner,
believes her house to be infested with fleas.
Rosemary bites at her fingers
and craves another plate of meat.

She craves more meat,
has fits of light,
and fits of heat,
and fits of height.
She craves more meat,
has fits of light,
and fits of heat,
and fits of height.

Rosemary's husband is handsome,
he ploughs the earth in search of insects.
To your house is where we were hunted,
dressed up as bears in the garden.

She craves more meat,
has fits of light,
and fits of heat,
and fits of height.

We will take you down to the park,
leave you standing there by the swings
with some corn and a pocket knife
and a lock of your mother's hair.

She craves more meat,
has fits of light,
and fits of heat,
and fits of height.
Track Name: Glass Face
Under the skin of dead sheep, here sleeps
a nation unearned. Nesting and slippery.

An island on fire: soft flames, soft flames.
And here in the yard I try hard to keep still.

Under the skirts of the farm girls, black pearls.
And under the lights of the slack towns, black crowns.

It's been retained
It's been retained: Glass face
It's been retained
It's been retained: Glass face

Pecked by the beaks of penguins and seagulls,
I try not to laugh at the seaside scenery.

(But sometimes it's like we're flying forward with the kinetic
energy of bees.)

It's been retained
It's been retained: Glass face
It's been retained
It's been retained: Glass face

It's been retained with muscle all strained:
Glass face
It's been retained with muscle all strained:
Glass face
Track Name: Nailbox
We'd to love know how fast to move into
the empty shoal (with or without our fins).

I must say now: It has broader sides
than any border, than any man-made town.

The cock-tease soldier,
the broader sides,
through any border,
through any town.

Through any town,
through any town.

We need to know how fast to dive into.
Without a goal, blind swim to poisoned fields.
(If this was the sea we'd be home by now.)

For all Malatestas… 
For what we came here for...
To burn the borders… To burn the crowns.

Bring peacock feathers, Bring ballroom gowns.
Burn any border... Burn loud... Burn loud.
Track Name: Rusted
By the farmhouse there is blood.
A waking sense of time covered in mud.

It is blinking, it is sour,
a pattern carved in time repeats the hour.

And the brackets in this house
are getting looser and more rusted by the hour

until they fracture and dissolve
and prepare their tiny bodies to evolve.

By the seaside, by the shore
we have reasons to exit this sudden war.

I was informed of no new device
in the sinking of ships,
in the building of fires,
in the building of fires.

Limbs and tables packed up.
Able wagons and cars and ships
which are sinking through space,
falling out of time and out of place.
Track Name: Monumentalist
Michael knows the difference, Michael sees the heavy light
cracking on the outside, the maths is always right.

I've come to see the angles and the reason for the clouds,
they're centred on a fixed point right above this house.

...and if the purpose of the ground 
is to break our fall
then it feels like I've been breaking another wall.

Just imagine what it feels like
to come back home.

Imagine what it feels like
to come back home to find a mob burning his likeness in the town square,

to find a god shooting the pigeons in the town square,
a dying wolf consuming its children in the town square,
a thousand crystals becoming the sun inside the town square.

Square.

If the ground is only there
to stop us falling through
then where do you think we've been falling to
all this time?
Track Name: Cedar Pieces
You can withhold no thoughts
from its tight mouth,
tight teeth, sharp fleece and mean pincers.

Even if you concentrate all of
your will into a tiny pinhole in the air,
the air, it's cedar not sandalwood;
the cheap stuff, the rough cuff
of the sailor's sleeve.

Geoff

Setbacks, cast offs piled in a heap on
the pinewood dance floor,
spoiling the finish.

No text escapes from his vacuum,
from his intake of breath 
and lean fingers.

Even if you concentrate all of
your words into a tiny tear hole in the chair,
the chair, it's made out of cedar wood
the first cut, the right cut
from his handsome hands.

All these lights lining streets
to the dock, to the watery exit.

All these lights pointing east
to escape, to swim through the exit.

All these lights lining streets
to the dogs, to the watery exit.

All these lights pointing east
to escape, to swim through the exit.

Is that salt on the sheets?
Is that sleep?

Dead leaves...

This is how we escape from the motionless beast;
dressed up as dead leaves .