Tin of Worms - Jam Baxter, Chester P

Coarse light and terror

Hatch daily, die nightly

Slipping life signs, he grip on a divine psyche

Stored in a poor peasant

War in his war essence

Speed’s nought to now in point four seconds

Your precious world ain’t healthy

The scar tissue’s towers burst

Burden in the skies, with an ill-fitting cloud of dirt

Skin snapping, white mounds of powder spurt out my shirt

Spelling out the words 'Young and Foolish' underground

A worse surgeon, swim clotted u-bends

As that scoundrel, with a mouth full of waterboard, weapons, and a snapped

scalpel

Demonectomies that dawn on the background

Full of cheap gaudy décor

You get what you pay for, I guess

Bad winner in botched operation shocker!

Turn to every page for the full story and grace the horror

Hover here, little ones, change the lock and bathe in honour

Palatial squalor made possible, place your offer

Speak with conviction

Sparks from the friction

Dark on your doorstep with prayerless redemption:

Destiny’s henchmen, faceless attractions

Poverty soldiers, chasing the fractions

Sinister reactions, closed in my captions

Cane like Chaplin, cotched up backbench

Posture is hunchback, full grown rugrat

Died then I come back, survival or combat

Rifles or contracts, lifelessly contact

Contrasts melt fast, thoughts go beyond 'drat!'

So clap, doh, cues voice of the locals

Learnt when I didn’t go school to be a spokesman

Venom of a marksman, moved to advantage

Scars to my eyelids, modern Will Scarlet

Charming composure, dressed up and garnished

Orphans of freedom, maidens and harlets

{Hook: Jam Baxter]

Stand on a corner with a bulletproof smile

Moon in my pocket, money to burn

I got roots in the ground and my head’s in the clouds

Sun’s on my dial and a new tin of worms

Ghost birds sing from a nest in their grave

North winds howl on a methadone sky

My hand on my heart, where the truth’s concerned

With this bat out of hell and a new tin of worms

My, how plush porcelain doll skull’s can break easy

And fuck me, this train still parades creepy

Screeching train doors sliding, better push forth

Here’s to the commuter that got his foot caught, splat!

Good sport, didn’t scream, penny for the bloodstain

Some strange, hate-fueled rebellion in love’s name

That’s raging on a bruck stage, the false wall falling

Keeper of a tinfoil curtain, caught snoring

Report him from a plastic chair, glued to an incendiary

Mile high monument, a glutinous confectionery

That looms in every rooms, so choose a suitable dispensary

One small step from that human of the century award

He saw glory in the futures of his enemies

The flawed war stories from the students of dependency

Sir, is that a centipede hugging a glass ceiling

Or a scared pair of scorpions stuck in a jar breeding?

Peace for the soldiers

Tea for the homeless

Hope for the hopeless

Guarding a crow’s nest, watching the progress

Earth’s like a hostage, held by its offspring

Dying a slow death

Thirteenth apostle, these are my gospels

Native narratives, eyes that have watched you

Words that can touch you, child of the flowers

Mushrooms and ginger, praise to the powers

Freedom’s inside me, screams in excitement

Freedom’s for real, man, I’m talking of a triumph

Me and these giants, standing relentless

Throughout misadventures, call me the tempest

Strength to the strengthless, preached in a temple

Worshiping elements, life is essential

Nurture your mental, learn from your mentors

Sharpen your senses, change your dimensions

Range over race lands, fresh from the basement

Culled from the hatred, caused by the matrix

Face my reflection, classless and aimless

Nomads and vagrants, heroes and traitors

Trenches and craters, death’s a hiatus

Hunt like hyenas, fight with your demons

Talk with your elders, walk with your elders

Talk with your elders, walk with your elders

Hook

Stand on a corner with a bulletproof smile

Moon in my pocket, money to burn

I got roots in the ground and my head’s in the clouds

Sun’s on my dial and a new tin of worms

Ghost birds sing from a nest in their grave

North winds howl on a methadone sky

My hand on my heart, where the truth’s concerned

With this bat out of hell and a new tin of worms

Candyfloss dreams as the roulette spins

Gambler’s eyes in the alcohol swirl

Drifting beyond any chance of return

With a handful of thoughts and a new tin of worms

Ships capsised on a ocean of wine

Pirates sing with a bottle full of rum:

'Yo-ho-ho,' from a state of no return

With a handful of thoughts and a new tin of worms