Total Education

by Mopey

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1.
2.
02:20
3.
4.
5.
6.
03:30
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.

about

Tracks 6-11 comprise the suite "A Blacker Shade of Pail"

credits

released December 11, 2015

mopey is: John Longlott drums, Paul Tucker bass, Ryan Wade guitar, Bart Pierson guitar and keys and vox, Mo P vox and keys and guitar. Additional vox on Love Struck You Dumb by Meg Harnum.

all music / words / art by Mopey.

drums/bass on 1-3 and 5 recorded by Ritche Perez. special thanks to AE Bridger for help recording drums on "A Blacker Shade of Pail" i-vi. all else recorded at The Fortress of Mopetude.

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about

Mopey St John's, Newfoundland and Labrador

MOPEY are a five-piece post-punk band from St. John's, Newfoundland.

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Track Name: Confessions of a Breakopen Addict
you dreamt in youth
of consummation and completion
but then the dawn crept in
and your carriages: spent ovaries, stinking

just rotting gourds in the morning fog

yeah, your prince came and went to fat
and now the only moral path
is a lifetime of boredom
grinding up time for creature comfort.

and you're holding up the line.
can't you see you're holding up the line?

now, your dreams have become flat
and if you walked to their edge
you just might fall off
drop down and go "splat"

and you don't believe in love
no not anymore

now laughter is a foreign language
spoken only in cynicism
and you can't get no respect
not even from your own DNA.

and you're holding up the line.
can't you see you're holding up the line?

life gives you three lemons
so you make lemonade
life gives you three oranges
so you settle for some marmalade
life gives you three cherries
but that's hardly chump change
but life gives you three gold bars
and mama gets PAID!!!
Track Name: The Problem
how do you reach the unreachable?
how do you love the unlovable?
how do you change the unchangable?
how do you mold the immutable?
how do you hold
chaos in your hand
without blowing off your fingers
worse off than you began

the problem, the problem, the problem is insoluble.

and i think i've got it by it's roots
but when i try and pull em up
they're all twisted and twined together
all tangled in the muck
and i look from every angle
but the dimensions multiply
extending to infinity
like the square root of pi

the problem, the problem, the problem is insoluble.
Track Name: Love Struck You Dumb
you were minding your own business
couldn't be bothered with happiness
sitting pretty in complacence, but then

love struck you dumb
like a riot cop's baton
it cut out your tongue
and sat on your lungs

you were walking down the street
you weren't looking for nothing
weren't searching for nobody, but then

love struck you dumb
like a riot cop's baton
it cut out your tongue
and sat on your lungs
yeah love struck you dumb
like spring's babbling song
it crept up in the calm
with scarves and bells and flowers on

all it's colours bathed in sun
the river current run

it took you by the hand
and kissed you in the shade
now your heart is like a bag of kittens
waiting to be drowned
it snatched you away from
life's grim parade and
slowly, insistently pulled you down
Track Name: Whostorian Quarterly
my time machine is camouflaged
as a disused photocopier
yellowed with age
collecting dust in the corner
of some cramped and dingy
Shopper's Drug Mart
that only works in fits and starts
and can only be repaired
with a swift kick and a prayer

hurtling through time and space
at the speed of photocopy
i'm the same man with a brand new face
... Whostorian Quarterly!

kiss all the old fascisms goodbye
it's the triumph of decency
with a cheshire grin and a glint in the eye
... Whostorian Quarterly!

with a shuddering groan
it VWORPS away
spitting out
page after page after page after page after...

the crisp stacks of paper
like bread, hot from the oven
my fingers stained with toner
the mark of my devotion
so go ahead and laugh
it's all a part of my Masterplan
'cause there will soon come a day
when all the weirdos WIN

hurtling through time and space
at the speed of photocopy
i'm an old man with a young man's face
... Whostorian Quarterly!

kiss all the old fascisms goodbye
it's the triumph of decency
with a cheshire grin and a glint in the eye
... Whostorian Quarterly!
Track Name: In Your Shadow
some of us lead
some of us follow
baby i'm the tail
that you swallow

in your shadow
under your wing
your protective hand
is strangling me

i can abase myself
for your entertainment
and you can condescend
cause that's the meaning of friendship

it's not your approval that i seek
it's your disdain i crave
confirmation of my condemnation
i'm not looking to be saved

i can live through you
you can die through me
a mutual exchange
in parasitic sycophanty

like conjoined twins who share a heart
only one of us can survive
once i've smothered you with my sickening need
you'll be rotting while i thrive
Track Name: Decay Dance
fresh cut sunup
the runny eggyolk of resurrection and
the gulls wheel round
in a sky the colour of glistening gore
waves lapping the shore of this beach
my stomach rumbling - air hazy with the heat

feral children
running in packs
ships jutting upward
rusting wrecks
soda cans and scrap metal littered everywhere
remnants of the ones
who came before.

all my brothers all my sestras
bonded in blood lilith's brood
both young and ancient:
the triumph of filth!
Track Name: Ballad of the Pale Kidz
we are toxic children
sailing a coke bottle raft
on a sea of sewage
we're island hopping
from one trash heap to the next
and your carelessness
is our heritage and inheritance
with blood of blackened green
we are sustained by your remains

speaking in cockroach clicks
and seagull squeals
our bare hides tanned
the colour of caramel apples
teeth filed to cut through tin
cans bloated with botulin
our cast iron stomachs
will digest anything

the new hunter gatherers
post apocalyptic scavengers
so savage and beautiful
but we won't play noble for you
like a raccoon caught
in the beam of your flashlight
under your back deck at 4 in the morning
craven and shameless
filthy and shivering

we are toxic children.
Track Name: Your Body is a Splash n Putt
ice cream bar wrappers soiled adult diapers
disposable razors and microwave dinners
fingernail and toenail clippings
peanut shells and pencil shavings

half-empty cans of tomato paste
plastic knives and styrofoam plates
bloodsoaked meat tray maxi pads
circuit boards and shattered glass

the stench of sour milk and burning rubber permeating
prismatic sheen of cracked blackened screens a mirror reflecting
the crass plastic wasteland of a thousand Christmas mornings
a twisted unrecognizable mass that's melted faded melding

into an avant garde abstract monument
to your finest and final accomplishment
stacks of tires like roman columns
and the millions of now-silent engines
rusting in their shells of metal
exoskeletons corroded and brittle
an inert vacant empty vessel
it's only as trash that we're all equal

and in every darkened hole
a tapestry of mould grows
in all the colours of the rainbow
black and blue and green and purple

an ocean of tears a lake of spit
rivers of blood raining sheets of sweat
gristle and muscle and pus and lymph
mucus and bile and piss and shit

a ship made from leftover parts
a candyheart that's falling apart
a machine made out of meat
held together with masking tape

and in every curve and fold
a tapestry of bruises glows
in all the colours of the rainbow
black and blue and grey and purple

our bodies are garbage
rotting rotting rotting away.
Track Name: The Madonna of Robin Hood Bay
she rises from the steaming heaps
clad in a gown of black and green
shredded sacks glittering like tinsel

anointed with the ghastly stench
of a steak left to rot out in the sun
the flies buzz round and kiss her toes

as she stands atop a coiled gardenhose
the emerald green snake in the garden
of your artificial eden

oh, like maggots to a festering gash
we descend in a writhing mass

and filthy strands of mophead hair
clung with stains and dead insects
cradle the bruised peach of her face

pustulant red eyes like Lowney cherries
grayblue gums and chicklet teeth
riddled by caries

her gnarled lips parting like blackened rinds
her moans a shrill hydraulic whine
a song to lull her children to sleep

oh, like maggots to a festering gash
we descend in a writhing mass
Track Name: Blackest Shade of Pail
we are toxic children
playing hide and seek in the scorching heat
we can make an entertainment
reconstructed from your remnants
what story do they tell?
what truths do they reveal?
machines of death, treads now silent
barrels rusting sterile
they are our playgrounds now

bodies concealed
behind brick and glass and steel
and hearts buried beneath
layer upon layer of conceit

but our cathedrals are of cardboard
like birds making nests from burger wrappers
and we are only one tribe
united by the glow
in our lupine eyes

you scraped the sky with glittering towers
reduce whole cities to smouldering craters
you were great and glorious and impossible
a meaningless ludicrous miracle
pointless dust in a heartless void
long dead stars in a pitchblack sky
your dream of freedom without consequence
brings a final reckoning of prideful ignorance

are the heights that you achieve
just a shrine to naked greed
but when your world is laid to waste
there will arise a greater breed
and in your terror, you invent a saviour
but the only God is the one in your mirror
still you worship at it's altar
still it fails you, still it falters

you thought that ignorance would save you
it will be what damns you
Track Name: Circling the Drain
there is a void a deeper black than anything
infinitely patient and silently waiting
ageless and endless and all-consuming
and the churning of the universe
is just a meal that it's digesting

we are nothing, when we pass.
like a jar of peanut butter scraped down to the glass.
when we expire, no spark remains
like a sinkfull of dishwater circling the drain.
you kill yourself to save yourself
from the possibility of pain
but you're a terminal case now
just circling the drain

your consciousness was gift -
but you made it into a cross to bear
you caught a glimpse of Love
and shrunk in fear
ashamed of your nakedness
ashamed to be laid bare
with this terror of stillness
of emptyness' point blank stare

we are nothing when we pass
like a lightbulb filament overloaded and snapped
when we expire, no spark remains
like a sinkfull of dishwater circling the drain.
you kill yourself to save yourself
from the possibility of pain
but you're a terminal case now
just circling the drain

it's not a matter of if
it's just a matter of when
'cause all we are
is dust in the bin