Beck: Mutations CD Track Listing

A list by checkmate

Beck Mutations (1998)
from http://www.beck-web.com/\n\n Cold Brains\n\nCold Brains,\nUnmoved,\nUntouched,\nUnglued\nAlone at last\nno thoughts,\nno mind\nto rot\nbehind\na trail of disasters \n\na final the curse\nabandoned hearse\nwe ride disowned\ncorroded to the bone\n\nthe fields of green\nare bent, obscene\ni lay upon the gravel\na worm of hope\na hangman's rope\npulls me one way or the other \n\na final curse\nabandoned hearse\nwe write this song\ncorroded to the bone\n\na bird of song\nis heard no longer\nin the evacuated heavens\nthe drain is drawn\nand drained and gone\nand on and on, it doesn't matter \n\na final the curse\nabandoned hearst\nwe rock the salt\ncorroded to the bone\n\n\n Nobodys Fault But My Own \n \ntreated you like a rusty blade\na throwaway from an open grave\ncut you loose from a chain gang and let you go\nand on the day you said it's true\nsome love holds, some gets used\ntried to tell you i never knew\nit could be so sweet\nwho could ever be so cruel,\nblame the devil for the things you do\nits such a selfish way to lose\nthe way you lose these wasted Blues these wasted Blues \n\ntell me that it's nobody's fault\nnobody's fault\nbut my own\nthat it's nobody's fault\nnobody's fault\nbut my own \n\nwhen the moon is a counterfeit\nbetter find the one that fits\nbetter find the one that lights\nThe way for you\n\nwhen the road is full of nails,\ngarbage pails and darkened jails\nand their tongues are full of heartless tales\nthat drain on you\nwho would ever notice you\nyou fade into a shaded room\nit's such a selfish lose\nthe way you lose these wasted blues, these wasted blues \n\ntell me that it's nobody's fault\nnobody's fault\nbut my own\ntell me that it's nobody's fault\nnobody's fault\nbut my own tell me that it's nobody's fault\nnobody's fault\nbut my own tell me that it's nobody's fault\nnobody's fault\nbut my own \n\ntell me that it's nobody's fault\nnobody's fault\nbut my own\ntell me that it's nobody's fault\nnobody's fault\nbut my own...\n\n \n Lazy Flies \n \nlazy flies all hovering above\nthe magistrate, he puts on his gloves\nand he looks to the clouds\nall pink and disheveled\nthere must be some blueprints,\nsome creed of the devil\ninscribed in our minds\na hideous game\nvanishes in thin air\nthe vanity of slaves\nwho wants to be there?\nto sweep the debris\nto harness dead-horses\nto ride in the sun\na life of confessions\nwritten in the dust\nout in the mangroves \nthe mynah birds cry\nin the shadows of sulphur\nthe trawlers drift by\nthey're chewing dried meat\nhouse of disrepute\nthe dust of opiates\nand syphilis patients\non brochure vacations\nfear has a glare that traps you\nlike searchlights\nthe puritans stare\ntheir souls are fluoresecent\nthe skin of a robot\nvibrates with pleasure\nmatrons and gigolos\ncarouse in the parlor\ntheir hand-grenade eyes\ninvalid and blind \n\nvanishes in thin air\nthe vanity of slaves\nwho wants to be there?\nto sweep the debris\nto harness dead-horses\nto ride in the sun\na life of confessions\nwritten in the dust \n\n\n Canceled Check \n\ni hate to do this\nbut you're a pain in the neck\ni thought you knew this\nyou're handing me a canceled check\nyou're so helpless\nyour girlfriends think you're a saint\ni'll give you a quarter\ni'll keep my judgements to myself \n\nand i get caught up\nin the moonlight\nreaching out for a rotten egg\ni don't want to beg\nit's crystal clear\nyour time is nearly gone \n\ncount your blessings\nand do the things that you should\no the has-beens\nthat never had it so good\nstormy weather\nthe kids are making a racket\nin the wilderness\nthe wild lives are so mild \n\nand i get caught up\nin the moonlight\nreaching out for a rotten egg\ni don't wanna beg\nit's crystal clear your time is nearly gone \n\nAWWWWWWWWWWWWWW\nAWWWWWWWWWWWW\n\nand i get caught up\nin the moonlight\nreaching out for a rotten egg\ni don't wanna beg\nit's crystal clear your time is nearly gone.. \n\n\n We Live Again \n\nthese withered hands\nhave dug for a dream\nsifted through sand\nand leftover nightmares\nover the hill\na desolate wind\nturns shit to gold\nand blows my soul crazy \n\nthe end\no the end\nwe live again\no i grow weary of the end \n\no hungry days\nthe footsteps of fools\ngazing alone\nthrough sex-painted windows\ndredging the night\ndrunk libertines\nstink like a colognes\nfrom the newfangled wasteland \n\nthe end\no the end\nwe live again\no i grow weary of the end \n\nlove is a plague\nin a mix-match parade\nwhere the castaways look so deranged\nwhen will the children learn\nto let their wildernesses burn\nand love will be new never cold and vacant\n\nthese withered hands have dug for a dream\nsifted through sand and leftover nightmares \n\nthe end\nof the end\nwe live again\noh i grow weary of the end \n\n\n Tropicalia \n\nwhen they beat\non a broken guitar\nand on the streets\nthey reek of tropical charms\nthe embassies lie in hideous shards\nwhere tourists snore and decay \n\nwhen they dance in a reptile blaze\nyou wear a mask\nan equatorial haze\ninto the past\na colonial maze\nwhere there's no more confetti to throw \n\nyou didn't know what to say to yourself\nlove is a poverty you couldn't sell\nmisery waiting in vague hotels\nto be evicted \n\nyou're out of luck\nyou're singing funeral songs\nto the studs\nthey're anabolic and bronze\nthey seem to strut\nin their millennial fogs\n'til they fall down and deflate \n\nyou didn't know what to say to yourself\nlove is a poverty you couldn't sell\nmisery waiting in vague hotels\nto be evicted \n\nnow you've had your fun\nunder an air-conditioned sun\nit's burned into your eyes\nleaves you plain and left behind\nsee them eyes and fall\ninto the jaws of a pestilent love \n\nyou didn't know what to say to yourself\nlove is a poverty you couldn't sell\nmisery waiting in vague hotels\nto be a victim \n\n\n Dead Melodies \n\nwhere will you go\nwhen this day is over\na gambler's purse\nlays on the road\nstraight to your door\nsnakes have gone crazy tonight\nwinding their way out of sight \n\na laugh, a joke\na sentiment wasted\nseasons of strangers\nthey've come and gone\ndoldrums are pounding,\ncheapskates are clowning this town\nwho could disown themselves now \n\nengineer, slow down this old train\ncinders and chaff\nlaugh at the moon\nnight birds will cackle\nrotting like apples on trees\nsending their dead melodies...to me \n\n\n Bottle of Blues \n\nFUCKIN' TREES WITH THE PUMPKIN PIE!\ni just found me a bottle of blues\nsome strange comfort for a soul to soothe\nain't it hard\nain't it hard,\nto want somebody who doesn't want you \n\nand i've been waiting for a year, a day\nsome strange weather must be blowin' my way\ncause i got no mind to go or to stay,\nor be left behind \n\nholdin' hands with an impotent dream\nin a brothel of fake energy\nput a nickel in the graveyard machine\ni get higher and lower\ni get higher and lower\nlike a tired soldier\nwith nothin' to shoot\nand nowhere to lose\nthis bottle of blues \n\negos drone\nand pose alone\nlike black balloons\nall banged and blown\non a backwoods river\nthe infidels shiver\nin the stench of belief\ni tell my momma i'm a hundred years late\ni'm over the rails\nand out of the race\nand the crippled psalms\nof an age that won't thaw\nare ringing in my ears \n\nholdin' hands with an impotent dream\nin a brothel of fake energy\nput a nickel in the graveyard machine\ni get higher and lower\ni get higher and lower\nlike a tired soldier\nwith nothin' to shoot\nand nowhere dreams it's a..\nbottle of blues \n\ni just found me a bottle of blues\nsome strange comfort for a soul to soothe\nain't it hard, ain't it hard,\nto want somebody who doesn't want you \n\nholdin' hands with an impotent dream\nin a brothel of fake energy\nput a nickel in the graveyard machine\ni get higher and lower\ni get higher and lower\nlike a tired soldier\nwith nothin' to shoot\nand nowhere dreams it's a..\nbottle of blues\nbottle of blues \n\n\n O Maria \n\nthere was no one nothing to see\nthe night is useless and so are we\ncause everybody knows\nthe fabric of folly is fallen apart at the seams\nand i've been lookin' for a good time\nbut the pleasures are seldom and few \n\nthere's no whiskey there's no wine\njust the concrete and a worried mind\ncos everone knows death creeps in slow\ntil you feel safe in his arms\nand i've been lookin' for a new friend\nand i don't care if he's decrepit and grey \n\no maria haven't you known\ndays so careless\nall on your own\neverybody knows the circus is closed\nand the animals have gone wild\nand i've been lookin' for my shadow\nbut this place is so bright and so clean \n\nthere was no one nothing to see\nthe night is useless and so are we\ncause everybody knows\nthe fabric of folly is fallen apart at the seams\nand i've been lookin' for a good time\nbut the pleasures are seldom and few \n\n\n Sing It Again \n\na town of disrespect\nthe trains are wrecked\nthe night is younger then us\nnowhere is anywhere else\nyou keep to yourself\nstirring the dregs where i have layed\nthe exit signs are flashing\ndead ends they won't come to life anymore\ni pledge the rest\ni should have guessed\nyour love was hanging by threads\ntongues tied under the moon,\nmy love is a room of broken bottles\nand tangled webs\nthe misers wind their minds\nlike clocks that grind their gears\non and on \n\nand if its meant\nsome accident\nsome coincidence\ncrumbs fall out of the sky\nwhen you wander by\nthe dust clouds blow\nnobodys home\noh won't you lay my bags\nupon on the funeral fire and sing it again \n\noh won't you lay my bags\nupon on the funeral fire and sing it again \n\n\n Static \n\nit's so easy to laugh at yourself\nand all those jokes have already been written\nseems like another vain attempt\nto let yourself fall out of the oven \n\nholy mountains\nthey look so tired\nand it's a perfect day to lock yourself inside \n\nwho you foolin' with the fools are right\nit's the same thing but it's almost as different\nhard to tell when it pacifies your mind\nleaves you stranded with a broken engine\nlazy desert looks so mangled\nlet me drown in a convalescent bliss\nget up from your bed of rest\nbeen a long time since you've lived\nbut the static in your mind\nleaves you hollow and unkind\nwith a shock electric wave\nturns you on.\nyou've been flunked out of the devils house\ndelinquent hygienes are so abrasive\nsome distortion that's never been known\non the treadmill you've been runnin' forever \n\nholy mountains, they look so tired\nand it's a perfect day to lock yourself inside \n\nbegone\n\n\n Diamond Bollocks (unlisted)\n\nlooking back at some dead world\nthat looks so new\noffices and fountains that they named for you\ndazzlements of accidents\nrejoice their doom\nhari-karis spinnin' round the golden looms\n\ngirl you dream infections\nfrom a nauseous heart\nchoice cut meats from derelict boulevards \n\nhear that lonesome whistle blow\nno direction to be known\nin a senile of revery\na tearful gaze turns away\neroding cold and grey\nscented eunuchs clothe our wretchedness \n\nlooking back at some dead world\nthat looks so new\noffices and fountains that they named for you\nso ungrateful to the who's and what's-his-face\nterrorist confections look so out of place \n\nlooking back at some dead world...\nthat looks so new...\nlooking back at some dead world...\nthat looks so new...\nlooking back at some dead world...\nthat looks so new...\nlooking back at some dead world...\nthat looks so new...\nlooking back at some dead world...\nthat looks so new...\n\n--erky YEAR: 1998
This rock cd contains 11 tracks and runs 49min 19sec.
Freedb: 8f0b8d0b
Buy: from Amazon.com

Categories

Latest lists

Beck: Mutations CD Track Listing

Category

Tags

cyList

Legal