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Total Education

by Mopey

supported by
Patrick Canning
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Patrick Canning After 12 years, a million albums and a billion soul destroying scummy bar shows Mopey releases the most vital, intense and accomplished album of their careers. It is a hard earned triumph from the most unwaveringly intense, persevering and unfairly unheralded gang of weirdos this city has ever produced.
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1.
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!!!
2.
The Problem 02:20
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.
3.
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
4.
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!
5.
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
6.
Decay Dance 03:30
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!
7.
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.
8.
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.
9.
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
10.
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
11.
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

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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Mopey St John's, Newfoundland and Labrador

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

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