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by Jacob Solstice

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Written and recorded April 2017 as part of the One Month Album project.


released April 30, 2017

Jacob Solstice - Guitar, Bass, Drums, Vocals, programming

All music by Jacob Solstice

Solo on track 1 by Morris Masuda who also created the cover.

"Temple of the Falling Moon" contains samples of Olley Neale's vocals on "Allah Mode" and "Feeding Vegetarians to Pigs for the Sake of Irony" from Ursa Major by Discharge Lounge

Thanks to Morris, Rob & Tabes; Sophie and everyone who has supported me this last month.



all rights reserved
Track Name: The Interloper
With synaesthesia, its easier to taste the milk of magnesia
When the playground makes a red sound
And words that tasted like hash browns
Nurse, covert
The medicine box is making it worse
The paradox has cursed my head:
bred for war but I live for dread.

Swallow the chalk and the blackboard talks
Lick the spoon & the tonic squawks
Your senses are muddled, befuddled and now that you're troubled
The treble is double the rebel is revelling
The devil wins
The game of life is over
Look out son! Here comes the interloper

I was struck by dozens of voices
Some laughed some spoke with poison
And confidence drained like a street after rain
Cos the choir was singing “no choices
We’re in the driving seat of this greyhound bus
Well matter of fact it’s actually grey matter but
We’ll have to manage and stick with the adage”
I ain’t driving this carriage
And that’s not to disparage
My efforts in battling all this this drama and damage
But there’s someone who knocks and says hey you’d better move over
And I know he’s the boss now, he is the interloper

I laugh at your lyrics that limit and live just to inhibit
The route to truth – you move quick but all you ever do is mimic
Original thought, your minimal mind is not taught
The new tricks, the dog’s old so just quit be bold
Numbers have a rhumba, a rhythm to discover
An entity that sits in me
And finding threads won't let them be
He pulls them grabs wool then my eyes it's going over
Blinded and binded by my interloper

In spoken word, broken verse; you taste the adverbs

And nervous systems blister, syntax listed in the margins
When the quiet comes you’ll know it son there’s sparkling in the darkness