Jam Baxter – Banana Shaped Armour Plates Lyrics
Lyrics
Verse 1
- I was jamming in the perfect cocoon
- Furnish the room with your lost loves, spot sluts, stir with a spoon
- In a cloth cot, washed up, served and consumed
- Welcome to life in your thermal balloon
- Reversible tune
- Gas powered, now we’ll stay static in a straightjacket perched on a moon
- With the serpents to ???? (blues?)
- And when the tower shakes nowadays bricks never burn in the fumes
- Like sour snake venom soup brewed with a pint of rage
- Microwave gloop, a recluse in the tiger cage
- Boot from the tidal wave, swarms come pouring in
- I’d rather be the claw then the snore thumb snorkelling
- Forked tongues waddle in
- In a padded cave
- Black and grey barricades hack away
- Hammer spade pick shovel lips scuttle gash-wards
- Bliss bubbles burst as the limbs scuttle backwards
- With tin door slamming, pitch fork jabbing at a pot of blue solitude
- Distraught grabbing at my cobbered shoes, what have you shit storms crashing
- The result of some piss poor planning
- Sit crystal listening to supreme silence
- Soon these routines do seem timeless
- And while the true gloom shoos these spiders
- I’ma break loose to the blue scene skywards
Chorus
- From banana shaped armour plates
- Half awake, burn in the lava lake
- Curse of a castaway
- Break out, break out, break out, break out
- Hammer spade pick shovel blade
- Break out
Verse 2
- It’s like, shit, there’s a whole world outside
- Turns out life in this cursed town’s live
- From the burnt out rides on forgotten piers rusting
- To tin-can alley cats shotting gear hunched in the top of weird dustbins
- The pick of the litter sits on trap doors, slack jaws
- Spitting ta brittle bricks
- And hidden bliss trickles from a slit in the sinner’s wrist
- Still equipped and bitter but as if I’ma give a shit
- The visceral vision kid
- A summer sun’s message
- Captured in a caterpillars butter bug, send it
- A tub of done relics
- Lost days of lunacy
- The deposits of flambéed immunity
- Stop face the munity
- Bored in the King’s dinghy
- Shit’s grippy for fixed skins and Sin City
- Sit pretty
- Snooze with the blue shaman
- And a few patients suit for the mutations
- A new nation
- Where the stars mark the boundaries
- It’s the rise of the half-hearted Valkyries
- Wagwan when half of my spars started doubting me?
- What? They wanna carve half a pound of me out?
- I’ll start devouring me with see-through cleavers
- Sweet-tooth geezers that breeze through litres
- The streets ooze bleakness
- Collapse in the thick of it
- It’s back to the chrysalis
- Baxter, in a fit