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The Fugitive Assembly

by Andrew McDonald

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1.
Their cross is marked upon my chest in extinguished cigarettes I guess I’ll be easier to identify, or recognize a pantomime underneath a suit and tie. A rash, a badge, a permanently attached scar was due. No rest for the scared, embarrassed and distressed. A net or harness keeps me pressed unless they turn me loose when my spirit signs off and resigns. A bird will not return once it learns to fly and from the nest of sleepless nights it flew. I can’t restore my faith or sense when each sequence of events goes bad to worse. I’m sure I warned that they would get what they deserved and if my memory serves I kept my word. How are you supposed to act when all of those maniacs are staring back at you?
2.
The shovel’s in deeper than the splinters in your hands until they divide each digit from its skeleton. Tearing out like strands until opened wide. The dirt assaults and catapults over your shoulder and is left behind until the hill returns to kill the past you have dug for all this time. Your body takes the form of what it was before you were even born you were even alive. Crippled from the fall in soil you made a hole. The bottom’s where you know that you were meant to lie. The fossils of the ones you loved are draped around your frame beside the rocks. The great collage hung from your arms like ornaments that came inside a box. Decaying dog used mating calls but suffered out of range with a voice that soft. In your mind you waved goodbye to all of the friends you ever lost.
3.
You forget what you were told on the eve of your disgrace. Chip away at your soul each and every Saturday. You have a joke that’s getting old but you tell it anyway and when the nights are growing cold you don’t ever hibernate. You can’t pretend a fire’s not forming. You can’t pretend the sky’s not falling. You don’t listen with your heart that often and every little spark’s forgotten. You have a language that you use it’s potion for the weak. To temporary homes you’ll raise the dead before you sleep. When morning brings shame simply knuckle down build a wall against the pain, you’re used to it by now. You wish to be alone and just think then you’re shouting at your phone to just ring. When your bodies taken all that it can handle take a breath, crawl and you’ll be landing soon.
4.
Sunshine 03:58
I’d wait for a hurricane, earth quake, and acid rain to rid of this place but the flood never came. Rid of their insults and wipe their complaints start at the bottom the way an animal’s trained. If it’s simple their after there’s little to gain and just like their fathers they’re not easily tamed. They’re happy being backward, happier as bastards, their minds seem to function in old fashioned ways. Pack their jackets until the pockets are ripped with objects they’ve stolen, all useless shit that’s stored in their houses where plaster is stripped. Garbage from the garden re-packaged as gifts. A cycle of burdens a legacy failed. Children in circles chasing their tails and helping themselves to whatever they crave. A token, a voucher, a servant, a slave. The caliber of insults is brilliant despite how quick they admit that they can’t read or write. Complete a sentence or recite a line so a dialect’s formed and handed down by a whole generation with old situations that’s tested their patience on a number of occasions. Nothing can change them it’s pointless to try I just stare in amazement as they spit in my eye.
5.
Grenades 03:40
Fill my throat with the remedy and in time remove the pain. I’m staring straight at the enemy that bares his tired grin. He breaks the gates to the cemetery and tries to pull me in again. He chases me until eventually my breath runs out. This game will play until infinity I’ll die before losing count. Before I test every boundary, before the illness has been found. I’ve crept and leapt in his control- Its tightropes and roof tops until I fall. I’ve been warned and I’ve been told not to get too far involved but every time I feel inclined to latch on to the things I find. I take each mess to excess to make up for all the nights I’ll miss. It never ends but can explode. He’ll wait by my headstone rubbing his hands while I hide.
6.
I would road test under lights. Leave my teenage skin to fry, dressed in dry ice because it helped to keep a watchful eye on a thousand people at one time. All ready to strike, to crucify. They never left my mind. Link by link I tried to turn each chain to brick and climb away from these spies in disguise. They never left my mind. I would have arrested each coward but their courage resumed. They towered in size and therefore presumed I’d bow in silence and not be removed. If I had kept my feet planted they would bleach or rust so I pulled my weight and pushed my luck. It’s ridiculous how I turn that fast.
7.
Their sights are aimed they move down the avenue. Bodies on the loose each muscle put to use. By every door they’re perched, patient and rehearsed. They’ve sworn to every word and I swore I’d get them first. She bites and burns alive so for those who stand in line to cross her path in time, you will always have tonight. I’ll protect them all- an army of my children for when she comes go straight for the throat. When I let them go they’ll prepare to fight if just tonight, howling for the smell of her blood. Yes I was scared but now I stand aside with loyal eyes, holler and cry for savage revenge. Waiting for my call they’ll all appear, I’ll stand right here they’ll strike and clear, ill watch it unfold.
8.
The sense of fun I can’t begrudge but it’s close to morning light. We’ve been in the clear for what seems like years so if you’re ready to call it a night we can assume the moon’s against us as it makes way for the sun. If you don’t mind my directions I think we’re far enough. I understand we stick to plans that ignore the warning signs but at this late stage I feel my age my bones aching and tired. If you choose to enjoy your youth, that’s all well and fine but if you turn around and back out now you’re still ahead of time. The finish line’s no where in sight it’s not over yet. My stinging eyes compromise for seeing things I won’t forget. I’m in no rush as long as both of us can make it to the end but if what scares you most is growing old I’ll wait around until then.
9.
The tension in the air and the usual stares meant it didn’t take long for the gloves to come on. It let off a sound that aroused a crowd. The stage was set for those glazed targets to play murder in the dark and in the car park. The first act had to start to allow those dogs to bark. The curtain had collapsed to the racing of the packs, all rushing to attack until each face had turned black. The secrets of buildings are kept from human beings, they whisper from ceilings to gutters and street lights. They laugh from such heights and take on their own life observing the shadows and who they wait behind. The fighters and the frightened keep them enlightened, entertained, inspired and glued to the screen. No sign of regret rests on their conscience. Their appetite stays wet again until they feed. There’s danger in eyelids from just looking sideways, a blinding reminder of what we shouldn’t have to see. I can hardly fathom a faint heart and spineless is not something that I’m proud of but it’s all I’ll ever be.
10.
Would you care to see the worst of me as I take charge with no regard? Trade love and trade decency for the occasional drunk, for the occasional punch. Is that what you need? Should I throw you against the candles or choke you upon the mantle then come crying back before you scream? Is it best that I shout out instead of whisper, hold you back like a prisoner and make sure to always make a scene? I’ve bared it all from bone to soul. From begging on the floor to buying things I couldn’t afford. Hiding faults during long talks until the only thing left is the opposite of course. Is that what you need? Is it necessary to be material, clothes for a look superior to the men in your magazines? If that’s so then I’ll take the whole damn thing off, be built like a motherfucker and colour for my hair face and teeth. Is that what you need?
11.
He caves as he looks up at the spotlight. This cooks the last of his eye sight. The interrogation starts and distorts the shape. He digests a foreign tongue before it waves. He’s restless from the arms to the waist and pressed against the glass from knees to face. He would smile but he can only seem to growl because the blood beneath his teeth will not allow. Cut this bound from upside down and onto the ground and draw chalk around this hollow frame and see who claims to know his name before they lead him astray. Who will interfere, break the chain or volunteer? Remove the blindfold and cigar and pull him to a moving car. Resurrect his heart and find a pulse or add him to the pile of ghosts. This old machine needs a clean getaway. He can’t touch the sky and makes up his mind that he’s just the curse of another birth.

about

All Tracks written by Andrew McDonald.

credits

released August 20, 2012

Produced by Sloth and Andrew Mcdonald
Recorded to 2inch at Headgap Studios Melbourne by Sloth
Assist and additional tracking: Stuart Tori
Mastered at: Saff Mastering Chicago by Carl Saff
Players: Trent McKenzie, Matthew Rooney, Ed Fraser,
Gus Leunig, Sloth, Jessica Venables, Megan Butler, Stu Cullen

Photo: Chris Were
Artwork: Adrian Burke

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Andrew McDonald Melbourne, Australia

Andrew McDonald has made an enviable impact on the music scene in recent years as a singer/ songwriter, a moonlighting acoustic performer and the once enigmatic front man of Melbourne outfit Tiltmeter. Andrew recently completed recording his debut album WH will clearly showcase Andrews dedication to unique melodies, engaging lyrics, thoughtful structures and attention to each detail of the craft. ... more

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