Dressed up waiting for handsome,
Cleaned up pretty in blue,
The slow caress of a withered hand in a room without the view.
So pathetic and hideous,
It’s best to cover your eyes,
Keep it buried, keep it very well hidden, keep it out of sight.
Degrade, defile and desecrate,
An undertaking so captivating,
Who knows where that’s been?
Strung out waiting for useless,
Busy climbing the walls,
Taste the smell of one with halitosis, giving it your all.
Exotic hues over crusted eyelids,
Glossing over cracked lips,
The woeful end to an appalling day, the secret’s all in the hips.
Entrance, excite and entertain,
Generous thrusting, so very disgusting,
Who knows where to look?
Busy waiting for nothing,
A rotting pile of meat,
Killing time in an endless daydream,
Comatosed upon soiled sheets.
Repulse, recline and regurgitate,
Persist, provoke and persecute,
Secrete, salivate and solidify,
Losing composure from over-exposure,
Who knows where the hell that’s been?
A fairly recent discovery for me. Mr Fitness is pretty much a one man band with some added percussion. He’s engaging, quirky and produces quite a fine post punk styled racket… Mt.Vic.Matt
Brighton, UK band leaven surging hard rock with spaced-out stoner-doom on their second LP, recorded in an old chapel on the English coast. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 9, 2022