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Sex Machine


I’ve got a brand new pair of genes
I’ve been to the doc, he’s got the means
He’s turned me into a Sex Machine
He’s given me a pair of enormous balls
That could even fill the Festival Hall
With schoolgirls *screaming* for more and more (*sometimes creaming or even squeaming*)

I’m going to the doctor’s
It’s easy you see
No need for operations
And you’ll know how it feels

Penises Costume

I’ve got pricks on my…

Tomorrow I get my hands done
With fifteen fingers and a phallic thumb
I’ll rattle the girls till they come and come
The stomach lining change has really done the trick
It brews alcohol and give me kicks
And makes me have supersonic sicks


I’ve got pricks on my toes and one on my nose
And some on my back that nobody knows
And the one I got first still grows and grows
I’ve got a set of clits hanging in my ear
I went to the doc to get a smear
He told me I had gonorrhoea


I nuclear prick is hidden up my bum
I tried it on a lady who likes some fun
And she got blown to kingdom come




I’ll send away for anything free
Coz coffee doesn’t interest me
Doo-Doo, doo doo, doo doo
I’m afraid to eat my tea
Oh! but I love saucers
Spinning on bendy sticks
Harry Secombe’s coming to tea (twice) (later changed to: Carry beacons
into the sea)

Merry Christmas, Prince Charles (*Original Version. Remake will have currently relevant lyrics) – it’s got to be done coz he’s a twat

Christmas is coming
The pigs are getting fat
Gonna put some coppers
In the copper’s hat
The kids all join the navy
They want a royal kiss
Peter, Mark, Andrew’s what they’re called
I’m so happy it’s Christmas

Merry Christmas Prince Charles
Merry Christmas Prince Charles
Merry Christmas Prince Charles
Merry Christmas Prince Charles

The kids all rush from the streets
Forgetting about their meals
And all the bent old people
In the Jubilee Appeal
You’ve got a father who’s no better
He’s just a greasy wop from Greece
The people all look up to him
And his Gold Award Scheme


Our Captain rides horses
He also rides Ann
Puftas don’t make queens
They only make fancy men
Make sure you’ve got some money
Keep it all
Don’t give it to charity
Just to the Policeman’s Ball

(Chorus) followed by indeterminate length guitar solo and audience posturing when performed live


You’ve got a father who’s no better
He’s just a greasy wop from Greece
The people all look up to him
And his Gold Award Scheme
Make sure you’ve got some money
Keep it all
Don’t give it to charity
Just to the Policeman’s Ball

(Chorus) x2 at least

Loofas (track appears unlisted as what would be track 4 on LTM print of Homunculus Equinox)

I’ve got loofas at home in a bag
I’ve got loofas on the 442
I take loofas to my grandpa’s grave
I’ll bring loofas to you


Mummy’s Tummy


Sitting in my womb
Feels like I’m growing in a tomb
Cos she’s my mummy and I’m living in her tummy
Mummy’s tummy! Mummy’s Tummy!
Sitting in my womb
Feels like so cozy
Can’t breathe much in here
Connected by a tube
Sitting in my mummy’s tummy
Trying to suck my thumb
I’m in my mummy’s tummy
It’s mummy’s tummy
I’m in my mummy’s tummy etc etc etc etc etc


Ashen Face,
Ashen Face, powder white venture

Clack’n Hair
Clack’n Hair says things, clack! clack!

Roger’s okay
Roger’s alright
Roger’s just fine

Ashen Face,
Ashen Face, powder white venture



I haven’t got time for the fashion pages
The dressed up tarts get me in a rage
The monetary men can leave me alone
‘Cos I don’t have money and I don’t have a car

Well the motoring column can stay where it is
In between the weather and the gossip columnists.

Oh the Marchioness of Sh-shit is doing all right
She’s off on holiday where the weather is “rather nice”
She fancies a singer who’s divorce is almost through
But he likes an old flame who’s inherited some glue.

I haven’t got time for the stock exchange buffs
In their pin-striped suits they’re a load of puffs
You’ve got to have money to make a bomb
So why the hell won’t they give me some?

It’s not for me that I whinge and moan
Just the good of the nation, I mean
I’m on the dole.

Oh I hate the tarts in their revealing skirts
They won’t show their cunts
What a load of flirts
Its’s all so nice
It’s all so cute
Here’s the new line for the spring that’s due.

Profitability, (you know,) is a sign of the times
You’ve got to keep on working for the rest of your lives
Now the tories are in ( Alt: If the tories get in)
It’s alright for the surgeons (Alt: It’ll be alright for the surgeons)
But us on the dole we’ll be cutting grass verges.

It’s true.

The Outsider

Desolation could be gaining on me
It’s all fancy
Corruption around the next bend

The knife grazes the temple
Just glancing
I’m a clapped-out, stinking miasma
I don’t think Mary cares for me.

Well I guess I’ve just wasted my life
Flickin’ through magazines thinking I might
Gonna take out a nightmare trip
Do summat to find some kicks

Desolation could be gaining on me
It’s all fancy
Corruption around the next bend

All I Need is a Love that Burns (also called Pleasure)

All I need is a love that burns
All I need is a girl that’s hot
All I need is another day
Because that’s all I got

I’m not for you
I’m not for you
I’m not for you
I’m just for me……

…eaning what you say doesn’t bother me
Give me all your money and run away
Telling all your friends about a man you once knew
Running to your mummy like I just don’t know




Like a Turkish Pirate
I fall lame
With every chance that I get
But the wheals on my back make me forget

Never able to stand up

Urbane Encounter

Like a Crawling Chaos

Like a Crawling Chaos

Crawling through the centre of the screaming souls
I can’t tell the time like the way I should
I can’t wait long I’m only twenty-two
By the time I get out I’ll be turning blue
And you know how it feels to be locked in a zoo

Well, I feel like a suicide’s death bed
You people step on me and you don’t care
You’re only rushing home for your tea
You’re only doing the same as me

I lean against a wall to collect my thoughts
I get swept along in the surging throng
I don’t use money – I use credit cards
In all the shops with the security guards
I’ve gotta get out before the shops close down
I don’t want to get locked in the dosser’s town

Insane Domain, it’s crawling with bird brains
You can’t complain, when the place is a shit drain
You double your chances of catching the louse
When you walk out the door to the mad-house

Ah! Morbid thoughts rushing through my mind
As the people scratch past as they run out of time
The subways are packed right out to the seams
By a glutinous mob who’ve spent past their means
In boutiques – and cafes – and hi-fi stores
But let’s see you show me the dirty book store

And there’s no reason for me to stay
Well, I didn’t want to come here in the first place
Ah well, I only came to buy a pound of pears
And I’m gonna be here for years and years, and years.

When the Muzak starts I just can’t stop
Thinking about all the tunes of grot
And up at the bar where the sporty types forage
It’s eighty-four pence for a pint of orange
The security guards stalk round and round
And it’s out on your arse if you don’t fit with the crowd

Strobe lights and fashionable bars
There’s no place to park your car
The smell of the cafes, it makes me want to puke
And you’ll easy get out if you’ll only look, well look!

* A Fifth verse, later omitted, went as follows:

Santas on windows with sprayed-on snow
And plastic reindeer with nose aglow!
Velkom tir Nordski, all over the place
The money situation’s a shocking disgrace
And little children try to head you in the fly
And old ladies with umbrellas try to poke out your eye

This referred to the fashion at Xmas for Northumberland Street in Newcastle to be plastered with Norwegian slogans as well as the normal festive stuff. This was due to the then favourable exchange rate with Norway, so Norwegians arrived in their droves. I’ve included this verse even though it was crap because it features in one of the first live recordings. This will be in the streamed audio section soon enough. It WAS funny for a bit, though – like, you know.

In the Norwegian version it finished with a load of la-la-las in the style of Marc Bolan



Get off your heart
Get off your soul
Win the race
Makes you feel small

It’s the end
Of a soul
It’s the end
Of us all

I can smell the worms coming
I can smell the worms coming

Repeat ad infinitum until satisfied, etc etc etc

Jhonn’s Angel

John Dee and Edward Kelley evoking a spirit.

John Dee and Edward Kelley evoking a spirit.

Flies gather around
Her festering eyes
In the ferns where she lies
Scry Auriel Scry

Beltane Beltane
The Kingdom of flies

Turn Altair henbane
Twist as you burn
In the smokescreen of wings
Saliva tentacle clings
For Ujiji

Beltane Beltane
In the Kingdom of flies

Scry auriel, scry

**Recent information from Mr Vex Dhole has cast light on what should have been original lyrics to this track, that should have referred to Dee and Kelly. Hence the creepy picture… WooooH.

*** Extra info also suggests another case of Flambard and his snow covered boulder. Lyrics altered to suit.

Frauline le Moine

Vulnerable clocks keep turning
When the blue soul rises dilly-dilly
Pewter jugs rust in France
He used to say I’d lost my teepee
Danny Slater is bianco
Festooned in his mama’s blanket
Good lordy me! I’ll have to impale ya
Stab and burn your red regalia
Blokies wear hair laquer in the Deuchars, oh!

The Deuchars is a pub in Backworth, Northumberland

Throwing Pins

I’m throwin’ pins,
I’m throwin’ pins
I’m throwin’ pins all over the ground

I’m throwin’ pins,
I’m throwin’ pins
I’m throwin’ pins all over the ground

Throwin' Pins Lyrics

Throwin’ Pins Lyrics

Well I’ve been throwing pins now
I’ve travelled all around
I’ve been right up the country and then I came back down
I’ve never had such fun
In the whole of my life
And when I get more experienced I’ll go onto throwing knives


It really is such fun
Throwin’ pins on the beach
Watchin’ all those people with those pins stuck in their feet
The pain those people get
It really is such a crime
And when I get more experienced I’m gonna take it up full time


2 Responses

  1. Siobhan Lango says:

    Hi, what blog platform is this? Can I download it for free or..? I would really like it if you could answer this question! Ciao!

Comments are closed.

Main image: “The Fall of Numenor,” an allusion to Atlantis made by J.R.R. Tolkien well after HP Lovecraft did his stuff.