Tuesday, 4 November 2008

A Kind Of Therapy

Track 4 from the album Stigmata Playing Up Again.

It's a long, long time since you looked for stars
In your cold, cold garden
I still have that bruise burning on my arm
To remind me of you
Everytime you knock me down
My memories they fall like snow
They cover up the pain of knowing what is coming
It's a kind of therapy
Laughing 'till you can't recall
What it was that seemed so funny in the first place
It's a dreadful mess how you left this place
What will people say
No one's fed the kids, even swept the yard
Dirty plates, underwear
Let's be honest now, there's an empty space
Where there should be brains
You could tell the truth if you had a clue
What the truth is
Was it a joke?
Was it dying?


  1. Just so beautiful...

  2. A work of art. A tale of total disalusenment in another person. Hits the spot with that migraine riff that supplies oxygen to true words. A masterclass in psychotic and claustrophobic psychedelia. Well done.

  3. I've officially declared this my favourite Primrose track. I think it's because it's so slow and reserved compared to almost everything else. The lyrics and the vocals are incredible, Moz-worthy even. And as for the guitarwork...well, come on.

    Now all I gotta do is figure out how to play it. I've only got Long Way Down under my belt.