~A Strychnine Kiss III~

�'O' From the Great Sea

Where I go the cancer grows; the ill wind blows; the rivers crack + flush the damned out from their homes... I tie their hands + go. Where I stay, the earth decays - a harvest of abortion. I extort them, hold an auction... they fall down + pray for rain. I give them scorching acid 'til they learn the reason why... Why? I'm not saying !Me ! I throw the first grenade... Me ! I light the Barricades... My way ! And did you see my lips move in the waxworks... Did I catch your eye? Or did I serenade you in a dream? You can't specify my name, though you know you've got my number. Mine's the face you can't remember. Go back to the mirror-look again.And where I turn the fire burns. And where I sleep, the Windows weep + when I point a finger the assassin creeps + triggers pandemonium. I drove the train to Dachau, wore the hood of the Ku Klux Klan. I carve the cross into a bloody sword; I slice off the hand that feeds you - cook it slowly, lick it clean. I put it in my pie-don't you want to know the reason WHY ?

�Tanith and the Lion Tree

She fed the lion candy so its teeth turned pink + scattered. She gathered up the pieces, hid them deep beneath her bed + made a wish for lion trees-so roses grew. Red roses + the lion watched his ghost go hunting bees.... Bees which hovered, dropped + split as thorns grew moist + ripped. Black yellow dripping red.... It wrecked the carpet, made the lion weep for his meat. Live meat. Raw meat. Tanith climed the lion tree. The lion tree was very pleased. She fed the lions candy as she handed out the straws.

�Interference

instrumental

�Four out of Ten

Your lies are like the creeping fog that blinds me, guides my injured soul into the blender with a thousand knives that grind me into powder. Coal black. Gelatine. Can serve me on a plate + watch me shimmy, shimmy. Red. Cholestrol. Intravenous. Feed me, feel my nerves explode galactic in your veins. You taste my essence - does my hot exquisite pain excite you? Does it? Hell you care... I'm just another notch; another conquest, another lock of hair tossed in your casket. Come tomorrow it's like I was never really there...

�Loop 1

instrumental

�Loop 2

instrumental

�The Bakersman(listed as "The Baker's Man" in the booklet)

Jerkov cuts it charismatic - strikes his match on his jaw. Smokes in threes (all Gauloises!), strokes his saftey clip + tips his tribly. Truly! Bad guys freeze at such a moment. Wise guys make it for the door, but all the dark-eyed scarlet honies form a circle. They adore the way he petticakes the waiters, sucks his T-bone blood red raw; slips his lion ladies' fingers, slides his plate across the floor + leaves

�Prithee

You make the sun shine... Keep me warm at night. Sometimes you are my guiding light. When I'm week or desparate, you'll stretch out your hand... It's a hand that offers courage; it's a hand that calms me down + leeds me to a land that we discovered countless lives ago - still young enough to change this wicked world. But tell me angel, where to now ? Shall we chase rainbows; ride the stars by night. Stay close ...be my second sight. Show me our tomorrows, cos I can't dream alone.

�Prisoners of War

They kept Alfredo in a box + fed him potatoes three times daily with a pinch of salt. He'd yell, assault the waiters. So they covered up his windows, put the box upon a string + sparred... said "Sweet Alfredo, we're just like butterflies, but know we can sting like the bees... like the bees that took old Mama Liza when they tied her up with string + threw the cream cakes, sprayed the syrup... Safe behind the vizors; they taped the screams + played them to the neighbours over barbecued Bartholomew + home-made blood wine stamped by the feet of the man who would be Christ. Send the lions in - the 'entertainment'!. No-one's ever bored. Life is so much more fulfilling since they gave us all these prisoners of war... Some guys picked the perfect lovers...Some guys pick the perfect whores...Some go for slavery - the old way.It's all within the law. Life is Brighter since they gave us all these prisoners of war...

�Three Times Daily

no lyrics are printed, but throughout the song Ed sings "Baby, my Baby"

�Hotel X

I watched the smoke rise slowly from your tired eyes. Two columns formed a marble gateway to a starlit room. And , painfully, you raised your stick + led me through with promises of paradise, where nothing ever dies - it blossoms. I followed, pacified. No preconceptions, open-eyed. My faith worn on a shaky hand but hanging to your ribbons. We danced across the crystal ocean, we sheltered from the storm. We were warm inside a blacklight cavern - watched the red sky raining roman candles; washed our hands in amber - we ere married in the shade. A shadow band was serenading Adagio, then faded yellow, grey-green, purple, blue... A rainbow whirlpool pulled us down; we tiptoed sensless underground. There was nothing we could hold but each other. You murmered your apologies; I smothered you in sympathy. We crawled, we shivered to the mirror where you stretched your shaky hand - hung bravely to my ribbons... And me? I watched your tired eyes slowly burning. Slowly burning. (Fade away)

�Epilogue

instrumental, with woman's voice looped

�Phoney War

On the border of beyond and nowhere fast, I forward marched thorough mines. My best friend Rover by my side... my guide - he ran before me. Scoring bones of dead explorers scattered in the dust.. it makes a plate that's fit for pedigrees. It's minus x degrees + falling. And I'm thankful for the gloves they gave me. I'm thankful for the mask when they sent me to the front armed with a white flag + a mask. "Go win their confidence", they said, "then steal their money - shoot them dead. We'll split things 50-50. Now I don't believe in promises. I don't believe in you. I don't believe in anything... would you?

�Old Man Trouble

instrumental, can hear Ed's voice all w/ all sorts of effects

�Textures of Illumina 10"

�the Boomerang Effect

transcribed by:don/nevermore and Thorsten Wald
Raymond Steeg:Klangwerkzeuge
Ryan Moore:Radio, Kaffemaschine

I squashed 666 of God's little miracles... I kicked them, I crippled them, I crushed them on the floor... But there's more! In my tea, in my cheese, in my hair... Up there! Monsters... I see monsters, they covered up the sky, murder in their eyes. The bullets bounce off their armour and I'm thinking about my Karma.

�The Train to Never

Raymond Steeg:Klangwerkzeuge
Ryan Moore:Hawaii-Gitarre
Lady Loop:Rhythmus-Maschine, Effekte, Klangwerkzeuge

Derailed by the landslide... No call cause I'm tounguetied. I heard, but I don't cry... This worses I don't try. They search on the wrong side... They seek but they don't find... It's already night time... Could be here a lifetime. And the ghost train leaves the station; someone's calling "All aboard for destinations far abroad!" We'll spit fire on a starless night. A flawless flight to freedom knows no barriers... My warriors are brave, they shout "We shall save you! We shall save you now." Call my name...

�Secret Dance of the Chinadolls�
[edward]

The Secret Dance of the China Dolls:
The Story of the Legendary Pink Dots

GO BACK!!!

�Sixteen years. You're in a small damp room. Three flames from three white candles lean toward the window, driven by a steady breeze from under the old door. Three sets of tired eyes search for stars on a cruel November night. There are none. A pitch black ceiling closing in, slowly. Pressing down...and the soundtrack goes on. Seven hours now. Three sets of tired hands working, weaving a flawed tapestry in an abyss.

�Occasionally the door opens and someone looks in and laughs. It's a cynical laugh but no-one is hurt because three sets of tired ears are tuned in to the soundtrack. On and on. Eight hours, twenty-three hours, seven days, SIXTEEN YEARS. The tapestry stretches across the sea thru borders, wraps itself around the planet. The soundtrack goes on and on, unceasing. The scream becomes louder....louder...

�This is the Werld of The Legendary Pink Dots, creators of the most hallucinogenic and emotional music the universe has ever known. The name deriving from a mysterious obsession of a few friends with three microscopic drops of pink blood (or was it nail polish?) on an olde piano keyboard, the pink zone is a dark Werld of ancient secrets within which one finds the cracks and doors to the summoning dance of the china dolls, the landing of thee Lyvv angel Lisa, and the last lost soul of the thirteenth apocalypse of Some Fine Legacy: The Prophet Edward Ka-Spell, the tiny emperor of all premonitions, so gallantly screaming.

�Formed in August of 1980 in a dark basement in the east end of London, The Legendary Pink Dots began out of the friendship of Edward Ka-Spell and Sir Phillip Knight - known only as The Silver Man. Beginning as a three piece composed of keyboard, bass, acoustic guitar, and the voice of the old Gods, the Pink Dots pioneered a darkly magickal psychedelic sound witch has continuously changed and evolved, from the ghostly minimal acoustic guitar and analog synthesizer callings of 1982's "Brighter Now" to the shining technically perfected musical narratives of 1994's "Nine Lives to Wonder." Certain influences lurk in the background such as the old German electronics of Faust and Can, as well as the lonely echoing chants of Syd Barrett and the early Pink Floyd - each giving the Prophet Qa'Sepel the diamond keys to a whole new musical genre full of brightly bleak tales of Medieval Magick, demonically enshrined lost love, and thee command:

SING...SING WHILE YOU MAY!!!

�[brighter now] It all began with "Brighter Now" (1982). Following an encounter as the only audience-members watching an improvising noise band at the edge of a field at a London festival in 1979, Edward and The Silver Man ascended the stairs to the garden in the basement to teach themselves a few simple chords. The album starts in the "Red Castle," a lonely chant to a lost maiden addressed only as "you" about whom is more is revealed in "The Wedding", in which occurs a separation from and within Edward. Then comes "Apocalypse Then," "The City Ghosts," the seance in "The Hanging Garden," all to quietly end in the lonely calls from the deadly soma bath where we all die "In Bliss."

�The early sound continued onto the second LP, 1983's [curse cover] "Curse." To the sparse effects, simple narrative lyrical structures, and a darkness deriving from a melancholic self- consciousness, the group added electric guitar, and a whole new cascade of china-twisted vocal effects. Edward introduced two new themes which would become seminal to his tragic Werld: the lady Lisa and the ever-proliferating china dolls. The opening-track, "Love Puppets," takes Lisa into the void of becoming a widow or perhaps an eight-legged wife who kills everyone at Lisa's party with a pretty dose of cyanide in thee delicate mint pies. Just when you thought they were dead the Enochian familiar shouts, "Arzhklah Olgevezh!" while in the dolls house under the rock gazing at the aeroplanes.

�In these first, most personal and mysterious of Pink Dots releases, Edward's biomorphic alter-egos are portrayed as utterly alone in a dying Werld permeated by the "yous," cold Medusas out to open up the gaps in Edward's cracking head. The mid-eighties brought a silent change however, as the silent cracks brought a new mambo bouncing passion. "The Tower" (1984) and "Asylum" (1985) present a new journey of explosive desire and change to the melting pink cloud.

�Thru-out "The Tower", Edward's narrative style shifts for the first time from a lonely, drowning "I" to a more descriptive and generally distanced narrative, emanating magnacoloured medieval scenarios of battling the fiery oppositions within the lost kingdom of the tower (a story which continues thru- out a total of 7 Pink Dots songs on 3 albums). In this werld where "The lightening always dances in every brain," "no one has the key to the tower!" Within the tower reappears the maiden previously spotted in the Black Castle on the first record. The band has here left the candlelit basement and begun there terminally kaleidoscopic descent into the fantastikal bloody streets of "Poppy Day," where "We shall not grow old" brings the christening of the new invisible female priestess Astrid - who emerges as Lisa's fantasymate. Thee genesssis of Astrid, as was the case with Lisa, and the future slippery notions of Tanith and The Four Great Hotels (Noir, Blanc, X and Z), opens up a new crack for the psychic confusion in The Prophet E's mind.

�Astrid took the new electric-Baroque Pink Dots back into themselves on "Asylum" (1985). On this and more obviously the other undiscussed "The Lovers" of the same prolific year Edward fell in love for the first time and proclaimed it to the werld on songs such as the biting 12" single "Curious Guy." Edward had entered the werld of the shining Lady Sunshine, a mysterious temptress who had previously appeared as the spectral voice of the dead on "Curse's" "Hiding" (known then as ARADIA). The Lady Sunshine brought with her love of Lisa thee introduction of the Magnificent CAPTAIN and his naughty little sidekick THE MONKEY, perhaps the baby Edward as a crooked child. On ghostly tracks such as "Agape", the Lady's new lead vocals duel with The Prophet's, making a new experimental AAZZYD sound, raping angels as The Triumphantly Laughing Guitars of The Father Pastorius (Bob Pistoor/thee Stret Majest Allarme) exchange eyelashes with Sunshine's slithering violin solos - and Saint Peter arrives on horse, keys all bloody. Yes thee echo police have come with Gorgon Zola's naked child afire as the only fifteen flies fall into the enchanted femme mirage; the quiet prisoner of "demonism" gently caressing herself and screaming "I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIGHT!!!"

THIS COULD BE THE END!!!

�Thee End, on and on till Golden Dawn....Following the eurotranz 12" classic "Curious Guy" (1986) and the terrifying "Blacklist" (1987), the Pink Dots continued down out furthr, furthr - a mesmerizing descent beginning with 1987's "Any Day Now" and continuing on today. On thee thirteen minute voyage through "Waiting for the Cloud," Edward has entirely left the white zone of consciousness of one's self. All the selves are bundled up carefully, each in its own oxygen tent. Lisa was reborn for the fifth time on this magnificent record, as Edward's writing style plunged off thee silver cliff into free association, losing the restrictive demands of coherent story-telling in favor of using words as vicious broken-glass bombs to rip up the fresh flesh in the tiny porcelain sky. Father Bob's guitar rules with complete power on tracks like the glistening witchfinder tale "Casting the Runes."

�"Any Day Now" took the Dots into the Dungeon of melting PULSING plastic on the first triad of the most technically beautiful releases: "The Golden Age" (1988), "The Crushed Velvet Apocalypse" (1990), and "The Maria Dimension" (1991). If the early "Brighter Now" had introduced a small and shy "I", then finally that angry little monster had put on her armor and mounted a great white stallion to take on the brittle werld with Black Roses in the broken shadow box. Der Kataaclimiichi and the rest of the band imploded inside thee iridescent rainbow of neon gold. A permanent move to Holland to take up a hermetic, workaholic residence in the polder- country barn of wind-player Niels van Hoornblower. The instrumental peak of total D'Archangel glory...

G O B A C K ! ! ! ! !

�The father brought out the wicked sitar, Niels conjured Gilgamesh with his army of flute, sexophon and an oval-shaped black thing. It can only be said that by this time, The Silver Man floated beneath the moon, cross-legged, waiting, US ANGELS AIN"T AFRAID OF WATER ARE WE!!!

�MMMMMMMMMMM....Mezhanyne....Maybe this could be...MMMMMMMMMM.. The songs during this period construct images impossible to envision - blissful sensuality breached in the space between laughing and crying at a mad king. From the Green Gang's" hazy ride thru-out the ephemeral drunkenness of "Crushed Velvet" to the wild whirlwind tingling fright of the body disappearing on "Maria's' "Evolution", one can only wonder, weave shadows, and reawaken....this could be thee end.

�1991 brought the tragic death of The Father Pastorius after an exhausting bout with cancer. Our hearts shall always be with him. One week before the 1991 cross-continental MARIA DIMENSION TOUR (Jerusalem, Cairo, Athens, and the legendary evening at thee Club Lingerie in decimated Los Angelees) , new guitarist Martin van de Cleer stepped into The Father's shoes with amazing elegance and accuracy - joining Silver, Edward, Niels and polite Canadian bassist Ryan Moore, to form the Pink Dots line up of "Shadoweaver" (1992), "Malachai" (1993), and "Nine Lives to Wonder" (1994). Martin, Ryan and the arrival of new producer and old friend, Steven Stapleton (Nurse With Wound) gave the Dots a secret ticket to push out furthr than ever before, colliding in the stroboscope. Yes now you see me now you don't. Tonite I'm dressed in black, I mourn thee death of colour. Hopeless, I'm crying in my wine thru the happy hour; I count the lines that crawl across my face and around my I's. Watch the ballerinas fly out on the powder clouds thru six dimensions. Express. We never touch, only press but I swear I'll protect you if you'd only look into my eyes. c oose your masks and raise your armor

- EYES DOWN FOR CHERADERAMA!!!!

�On the 20 minute terror of "We Bring the Day' (on "Malachai"), Eric Satie, Wagner, and a Siamese morph of Martin Denny and Hieronymous Bach bus tables for thee olde werld Lucifer who sharpens his Stapletonian daggers in the city of needles. yes he has the key to heaven. There's no more window on their werld, only a tiny kingdom> of flies. Lisa is gone. Forever. Separated from Joey the canary's last day out on the boards, God if only Madame Guillotine knew that the nine shades to the circle were the space in between, lost with the ghosts of unborn children in the third room of the plasma twins.

TANITH....TANITH.....SOFTLY...SOFTLY....SOFTLY ...Laughing!!!
Sing...SING WHILE YOU MAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

�I hadn't seen her for years. The shadows in that lonely basement had now descended to thee inner garden to dance in the Secret Dance of the China Dolls.

�At this point even thee deviant (and we must stick together) can say no more with words. As the music is always pushing the tapestry furthr and furthr out into the dead black werld to challenge all "limits" of acceptable visceral experience, nothing can be compared> to the Pink Dots live experience - get in thee front row and stare into the glass eye and cracked china doll face of a dark army of Neon gladiaTors. And never

GO BACK!!!