Goths

Cover of Goths Back of Goths

Title: Goths
Released: 2017
Label: Merge

Jump to the table of contents

Lyrics only — sorry!

Apologies, but I haven't had the chance to annotate this album yet — if you'd like to help, please email me! This page is just a placeholder so that you can read the lyrics. Full annotations, liner notes, and the rest will come when the page is fully annotated. Apologies, but I haven't had the chance to annotate this album yet — if you'd like to help, please email me! This page is just a placeholder so that you can read the lyrics, and full annotations, liner notes, and the rest will come when the page is fully annotated.

Liner notes

not yet transcribed

Early preorders of Goths came with a bonus 12" 45 rpm record, Selected Goths in Ambient. The record contained ambient interpretations of four Goths songs, renamed For the West Coast Dark Ambient Bedroom Warriors, Scaling the Well, Vanishing Act, and Grave Dust. A demo for Rain in Soho was later released on the Marsh Witch Visions EP.

Table of contents

  1. Rain in Soho
  2. Andrew Eldritch Is Moving Back to Leeds
  3. The Grey King and the Silver Flame Attunement
  4. We Do It Different on the West Coast
  5. Unicorn Tolerance
  6. Stench of the Unburied
  7. Wear Black
  8. Paid in Cocaine
  9. Rage of Travers
  10. Shelved
  11. For the Portuguese Goth Metal Bands
  12. Abandoned Flesh

Rain in Soho

No one knows where the lone wolf sleeps
No one sees the hidden treasure in the castle keep
No one learns the secret name
No one burns in the absent flame

No one broke DB Cooper's fall
No one hopes to hear the bagman call
Children piping in the main square
But no one's dancing, no one's dancing down there

The river goes where the water flows
But no one knows when the Batcave closed
The river goes where the water flows
But no one knows when the Batcave closed

No promise sweeter than a blood pact
Nothing harder to go through with than a vanishing act
No morning colder than the first frost
No friends closer than the ones we've lost

Nothing sharper than a serpent's tooth
Nothing harder than the gospel truth
Though you repent and don sackcloth and try to make nice
You can't cross the same river twice

The river goes where the water flows
But no one knows when the Batcave closed
The river goes where the water flows
But no one knows when the Batcave closed

There's a club where you'd like to go
You could meet someone who's lost like you
Revel in the darkness like a pair of open graves
Fumble through the fog for a season or two

No town more barren than our town
No haven safer than the one they tore down
No greater love than to lay my life down for a friend
No sweeter pleasure than to see the credits clear through to the end

No one knows where the lone wolf's gone
No one sees him camped out right there on the front lawn
We played for you but you would not sing
No one was going to get away with anything

The river goes where the water flows
But no one knows when the Batcave closed
The river goes where the water flows
But no one knows when the Batcave closed

Andrew Eldritch Is Moving Back to Leeds

There's indifference on the wind, but a faint gust of hope
At a club nobody goes to with a musty velvet rope
Guys in Motörhead jackets who knew him way back when
Haven't raised a drink in years but now meet up again
To remember how it was when they all thought they'd move away
And ride in Lotus Sevens through the London streets one day

Nobody ever gets away
Even the best of us come back some day
To the unmarked rooms where the dry dust breeds
Andrew Eldritch is moving back to Leeds

There's a rusted fog machine in a concrete storage space
Letter-number combinations with no meaning on its face
They won't make these any more, it's a wooden coach-and-four
No one will even steal it if you leave it by the door
With no sign to mark its going, no tombstone for its grave
There will be goodbyes by dozens, so practice being brave

No one anticipates the rush
The breezy feeling of the faceless crush
At the ends of things where the salvage bleeds
Andrew Eldritch is moving back to Leeds

They don't throw him a parade
He just comes in on a train
One suitcase in his hand
And an old army backpack
From the second World War
From a Leipzig second-hand store

Pick the keys up from the agent, everything's been taken care of
No big changes in the roadways since you left that I'm aware of
A few old buildings gone to dust, and some new ones in the way
They'll look just like the old ones when the winds have had their say
See the children bound for London, you'll all be back too
Everybody tests the membrane, but no one pushes through

Come on boys, that'll be enough
You'd think your old friends wouldn't play so tough
Like a basket by the Nile hiding down among the reeds
Andrew Eldritch is moving back to Leeds

The Grey King and the Silver Flame Attunement

In the secret caverns underneath West Covina
Half desperate for peace with the surface dwellers
But coming to no conclusions
And now we emerge, sky grey and misty

The Grey King in his new Pontiac
Some of us sworn to the effort, trying to get our shapes back
Teeth filed down to fine points
Framework too tight, strain at the joints

And I'm hardcore but I'm not that hardcore
I'm hardcore but I'm not that hardcore
I'm hardcore but I'm not that hardcore
I'm pretty hardcore but I'm not that hardcore

Load into the Grand Am, doomed sailors
Borne high by the waves, wild with wonder
Leather and lace, and good friends
Most of them good, most of them friendly

The Grey King at the rail, sparks flying
Three of us in the car with him, scared of dying
All eyes on the front seat
Assuming his form, reborn in the heat

And I'm hardcore but I'm not that hardcore
I'm hardcore but I'm not that hardcore
I'm hardcore but I'm not that hardcore
I'm pretty hardcore but I'm not that hardcore

We Do It Different on the West Coast

The papers write about it back in England
It's practically a lifestyle in Berlin
There's probably some pockets in Ohio
Almost always something happening in Ohio

I heard some bad reports about Long Island
I don't trust what people say aout Long Island
I heard some good things from some friends about Chicago
I gotta see with my own eyes about Chicago

We do it different on the west coast
We do it different on the west coast
We do it different on the west coast
We do it different on the west coast

I heard they had a problem with some skinheads
At a show in a machine shop in Pomona
I feel like half my friends have moved to San Francisco
I think I'm gonna bleach my hair this weekend

And Dave went to New York, I don't care
You can't shut people up once they get back from their Christmas out there

Skim through such magazines as I can get my hands on
Glue circuitboards to plywood on the weekend
Trellis modulation for the children
There's a whole new world just up around the corner

We do it different on the west coast
We do it different on the west coast
We do it different on the west coast
We do it different on the west coast

We do it different on the west coast
We do it different on the west coast
We do it different on the west coast
We do it different on the west coast

Unicorn Tolerance

Drawn to the dark
Covered by the blood, when possible
Called to the corners
To any open crucible

Easy to reach
Bearing every mark unmissably
Want to leave behind
Some token of what I carried with me

Search in the stormdrains
Sleep in the underpasses
Try hard to look hard
Behind my blackout sunglasses

But I have high unicorn tolerance
I have high unicorn tolerance
I have high unicorn tolerance
I have high unicorn tolerance

Swim with real sharks
Those who never speak when spoken to
Hard limits fade into memory
Once broken through

Sealing the well
Every single day, instinctively
Feel shame, real shame
For what my friends must think of me

Dig through the graveyard
Rub the bones against my face
It gets real nice around the graveyard
Once you've acquired the taste

And when the clouds do clear away
Get a momentary chance to see
The thing I've been trying to beat to death
The soft creature that I used to be
The better animal I used to be

Drawn where I'm drawn
Seldom wonder why, just follow you
Never blame the rags that swaddled me
From the place the river took me to

Long life to the spiders
Safe travels to the crow
Love to the ghosts
Who taught me everything I know

But I have high unicorn tolerance
I have high unicorn tolerance
I have high unicorn tolerance
I have high unicorn tolerance

Stench of the Unburied

Incoherent but functional
Speeding like a dead comet
Purple crushed velvet waistcoat
Flecked with Maalox and bits of dried vomit

Say what you will for the effort
You can't fault the technique
Still conscious at sunrise
For the third time this week

But when the blue lights flash
I know we're going to crash

And outside it's 92 degrees
And KROQ is playing Siouxsie and the Banshees

Blaupunkt in the dashboard
Cracks in the cylinder block
Heading up the Golden State Freeway
Toward Eagle Rock

Ice chest full of Corona
And Pineapple Crush
It'll take twenty years
For the toxins to flush

And when the sirens wail
I know we're going to jail

And outside it's 92 degrees
And KROQ is playing Siouxsie and the Banshees

Follow the flame to freedom
The flickering lights of Armageddon
Find the foot of the ladder way down in the pit
Keep climbing forever, try to keep the torch lit

And outside it's 92 degrees
And KROQ, the rock of the '80s
Is playing Siouxsie and the Banshees

Wear Black

Rain every day
Fog all night
Wind in the evergreen cypresses \

See me, Lord of Wind and Rain
See me, Guardian of the Underpasses

Wear black when it's light outside
Wear black when there's no light
Wear black following the left hand path
Wear black when I get right

Waves at night
Hard waves at dawn
All this coast is vanishing \

Check me out, I can't blend in
Check me out, I'm young and ravishing

Wear black on your forgotten radar
Wear black in the present tense
Wear black when you come around
Wear black in your absence

Wear black high as a kite
Wear black dead sober
Wear black when the trouble starts
Wear black when it's over

Sun through the trees
Head for the sun
Can't find the path back to the main road \

See me, Lord of the Thomas Guide
See me, Keeper of the Source Code \

Wear black to the intervention
Wear black back to the car
Wear black wherever I go
Wear black wherever you are

Paid in Cocaine

Crusty boots in the corner of the closet by the tackle box
Once proud shining silver buckles safe behind the normalcy locks
Baubles and bangles
A lost age
Still all aglow with the radiance of the stage
That's who I was
This is who I am
Work to pay down the interest on the mortgage
Used to get paid by the gram

Long Beach
Long Beach, can you hear me?
Can you hear me, Long Beach?
Long Beach
Long Beach, can you hear me?
Can you hear me, Long Beach?

Master tape from the show we did at Fender's back in '85
Dark paisley from Retail Slut all four of us still fresh and alive
Flashes and phosphenes
It's hard to believe that's me
Strapped in, visibly sweating, as happy as I'm ever gonna be
You're by my side
Five years left on your card
You're cashing out, all dressed up
For your date with the emergency ward

Long Beach
Long Beach, can you hear me?
Can you hear me, Long Beach?
Long Beach
Long Beach, can you hear me?
Can you hear me, Long Beach?

Rage of Travers

Close the balcony and the rainbow
Because the promoter says so
Aviators and a buckskin frontier hat
How come they dress like that?
They break the news to me so gentle
But I start to feel sentimental
This used to be the place to go
Still draw pretty good in Ontario

Nobody wants to hear the twelve bar blues
From a guy in platform shoes

Let's just have a good time when the show's done
Ask where the good clubs are and go find one
Roll up to the curb, spill out of the car
Everyone's dressed up like corpses
I brought my guitar, set it down by the stage
The singer's locked up in a steel cage
Shaking the bars, eyes wild with fear
I don't belong here

Nobody wants to hear the twelve bar blues
From a guy in platform shoes

Shelved

I wanna ride the hydraulics
Lit up like the north star
I wanna wallow in the spoils before the crowd
I wanna play my guitar

Not gonna sit up and beg
Not gonna do tricks
Not gonna stand here on a sound stage
Tethered to a crucifix

The ride's over
I know
But I'm not ready to go

I wanna flash my pastel colors by the rail
On a windy day at Pimlico
Don't want to write songs with this clown they set me up with
In a Los Angeles rehearsal studio

Not gonna tour with Trent Reznor
Third of three, bottom of the bill
You can't pay me to make that kind of music
Not gonna swallow that pill

The ride's over
I know
But I'm not ready to go

Maybe dad is right
I'm still young
And I can write C++
Just as good as anyone

I know this guy at Lucasarts
He says they're looking for hands
In fifteen years I'll be throwing back beers
With my feet in the sand

For the Portuguese Goth Metal Bands

Set the spectrum for the greyscale, that's better
Favorite bold fonts in black letters
Star-crossed lovers and their tragic fates
And the one Celtic Frost record
Almost everybody hates

Candlelight playing its tricks
On the walls of the cave
Hauling these songs to the light
From the mouth of the grave

Mark the map out for the treasure, don't say where
Find the octave in the shadow and stay there
Sleep till sunset, stay up late
Bleed bile all night
Into an SM58

Candlelight playing its tricks
On the walls of the cave
Hauling these songs to the light
From the mouth of the grave

Finally head west but it's a dead end
Come home dead broke but still among friends
Keep what's precious, drop what's not
Without a second thought

There's not so many of us
But you don't know any of us
Work like a gravedigger, let the blood spill
Headline really big festivals
Every other summer in Brazil

Candlelight playing its tricks
On the walls of the cave
Hauling these songs to the light
From the mouth of the grave

Abandoned Flesh

Robert Smith is secure at his villa in France
Any child knows how to do the spiderweb dance
Siouxsie has enough hits to keep the bills paid
Every New Year's in Los Angeles, you can still see Richard Blade \

But the world forgot about Gene Loves Jezebel
Yeah, the world forgot about Gene Loves Jezebel

They charted once or twice, they were on a major label
When the singer went solo he left money on the table
The two main guys are related, they're at war with each other
Now there's two Genes loving Jezebel, one for each brother

But the world came to agree
What you see is what you get
And what you get is what you see
Whether you're The March Violets or The Bolshoi
Bands who had to leave the darkness for the sun
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry were on Cherry Red, I think
They've been playing clubs since 1981

To be fair to Gene Loves Jezebel, Billy Corgan brought them on stage
It was in 2011, it's on their Wikipedia page
But for the most part, however big that chorused bass may throb
You and me and all of us are gonna have to find a job

Because the world will never know or understand
The suffocated splendor
Of the once and future goth band

Credits

Many thanks to Wil Hall, who transcribed this entire album and is the sole reason this album got posted at all.

Footnotes

maybe someday