We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Life At Tether's End

by Andy T.

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      £7 GBP  or more

     

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Complete with biography by Richard Cubesville and fully Illustrated lyrics with artwork by Andy T. and Bambi Eastfield. It's a beautiful package released on the recently reactivated All The Madmen record label.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Life At Tether's End via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days

      £10 GBP or more 

     

1.
01. A Pound In The Box Put a pound in the box, to ease your conscience Put a pound in the box and pretend you care Put a cross in the box, choose your oppression Put a cross in the box and pretend you care One nation, under constant surveillance The powers that be, demand our compliance Pacified and sedated, by the life that you choose All the pleasure’s created, to soften your views If you choose to live, within your comfort zone Subdued and relaxed, in your beautiful home Seduced and protected, by the treasures you buy To work and consume, till the moment you die Put a pound in the box, to ease your conscience Put a pound in the box and pretend you care Put a cross in the box, choose your oppression Put a cross in the box and pretend you care
2.
02. Are Your Children Revolting? All the children of the revolution Can you tell me what has occurred? It appears that insurrection Has now become a dirty word I wonder where all the anger went? Maybe it’s gone to anger management Maybe bought off with a lifestyle choice All the latest gadgets to silence your voice Whatever happened to the counter culture? Where did all the protesters go? Did we really believe in No Future? Nearly thirty five years ago Where is the noise of youthful resistance? Are they screaming in the darkness still? The barricades have long since come down The brain deadened and the spirit killed Now they’re dancing to a corporate drumbeat Separated by fashion into disparate tribes Will they stand up and try to make a difference? Or hold out their hands to accept the bribes?
3.
03. Hand Made Grenades and Letter Bombs Words explode like letter bombs inside the listeners mind Words to spike the consciousness of those deaf, dumb or blind Words can’t cripple, kill or maim, though words can brutalise Words can hurt you just the same, when they take you by surprise Words collide in poetic form like virtual stun grenades Words can slide up & down your spine like shiny razor blades Words enable some respect while they shatter tiresome dreams Words disable intellect as they appear to be not what they seem Words express indifference devoid of the desire to change Words impress insignificance destroy the strained or strange Words can brighten darkened moods from subliminal to absurd Words wouldn’t choose to hurt you after all they’re only words Words wouldn’t choose to hurt you after all they’re only words
4.
04. Finger Pointing When their fingers point at you, Do you know what you will do? Will you fight for your beliefs? Or turn away, go back to sleep Will you try to stand your ground? Or crawl away without a sound When their fingers point at us, Will you go quietly without a fuss? When their fingers point at us, Will you go quietly without a fuss? When their rifles point at you, Do you know what you will do? Will you fight for your beliefs? Or turn away, go back to sleep Will you stand up and be counted Will you end up stuffed and mounted? When their rifles point at us, Will you go quietly without a fuss? When their rifles point at us, Will you go quietly without a fuss? When their missiles point at you, Do you know what you will do? Will you fight for your beliefs? Or turn away, go back to sleep Will you still believe in revolution? Or slit your wrists in disillusion When their missiles point at us, Will you go quietly without a fuss? When their missiles point at us, Will you go quietly without a fuss?
5.
05. Who Chases Me? The first thing that I ever learned Apart from how to kill Was payday is on Friday And shit don’t roll uphill The fighting and the screaming The bruising and the tears They never really fade away They stay with you for years The sound of one hand clapping Is a cold hard slap in the face It seems there is no stopping The decline of the human race The dreams we have as children Can so easily turn to dust We must learn to break the cycle With love and peace and trust
6.
06. Wooden Curtains In the land of wooden curtains, by the burnt out panda car The future is uncertain, though it's certain to be hard Blue sky thinking’s clouded over, by flying bottles and bricks Where our hope springs eternal and fucks off down the M6 It's a nineteen seventies revival night The past was grim, the future’s shite If you walk through the valley at night alone Don't be surprised if you never get home Unemployment and redundancy are on the rise again The mortgage companies murder, with the stroke of a fountain pen Fascists in the council chambers, with suits and ties and power And England's green and pleasant land is once more turning sour We'll fight them on the beaches and in the Town Hall square We'll teach them that free speech is for all of us to share They'll target the weakest ones first, Like all the bullies do When you're convinced it's not your fight, That’s when they'll come for you It's a nineteen seventies revival night The past was grim, the futures shite If you walk through, the valley at night alone Don't be surprised if you never get home Don't be surprised if you never get home Don't be surprised if you never, ever get home
7.
07. Get the Addict Habit While the papers talk of hippies using dope and LSD There’s a far more dangerous pusher & he’s got a PHD He’s writing out prescriptions to cure all kinds of ills His answer to all life’s problems is a little jar of pills His addicted patients stagger like zombies for another fix Doctor death obliges with his little black bag of tricks When the pressure gets too great & you just can’t seem to cope Let the Doctor blow your mind, cos not only hippies take dope
8.
08 : Freshly Skinned A hundred bodies wrapped in leather A hundred accessories to cold bloodied murder No screams of pain, no carcass at your feet Just a piece of clothing to satisfy your needs You wear with pride an animal’s skin Warm living flesh, now decent and clean Is it so essential when alternatives exist? Will your traditional uniform be so badly missed? Would you wear the skin of a dead relation? Would you carve up the corpse of your own mother? All life is equally precious But you’d rather see animals suffer What makes you so high and mighty? That you can kill for the sake of a coat How would you feel if the butchers knife Was slicing through your fucking throat?
9.
Vivisection 03:36
09. Vivisection In the Second World War the Nazi’s Performed experiments on the Jews With the progress of medical science They’ve found a different species to use Scapegoats of today’s mad scientists Are monkeys, mice, dogs and rabbits Their bodies are poisoned by deadly chemicals To test mankind’s bad habits No anaesthetic is given to relieve the suffering Death is the only escape from the pain Force fed substances like bleach and alcohol Cruelly tortured for financial gain In secret laboratories with government aid Millions of innocent creatures die For all this pain we are none the wiser You choose not to hear when the poor buggers cry No one’s allowed to inspect the tests A blanket of lies covers up the truth The authorities argue their crimes are humane They never produce the proof This country’s leaders condone the slaughter What else will they choose to allow? Tomorrows mice will be you lot So fight for the animals now
10.
10. Evacuated Innocents She never lived, she never loved She never even tried She kept the pain from childhood Buried deep inside Such things were rarely mentioned Just forgotten or ignored Pretend they never happened Remember there’s a war Evacuated children Far away from home Temporary families Very much alone Preyed upon by wicked men To whom they had no ties Too confused to understand Too young to realise Hide beneath the bedclothes Just hope he goes away Make sure your friends from down the road Don’t come around to play Returning home to family Life continues on No one ever realised that Anything was wrong A life of failed relationships Begin now to make sense Her whole existence tainted by The theft of innocence
11.
11. Sing A Happy Song I’ve been asked to write a happy song To make you smile, maybe sing along Uplifting words to get you through the day To drive your feelings of despair away So I’ve tried to write a happy tune To raise your mood despite the gloom Paint pity pictures in your mind To help you leave the world behind A simple, cheerful ditty for the ears The message is banal but always clear That nothing nasty ever comes to pass Through rose tinted shatter-proof glass A joyous celebration of this life Where everything is nearly always nice Prejudice & hatred have no place If you wear your regulation happy face Nothing here to fear or cause alarm No one wants to wish you any harm Hypnotic beats to keep you in the pink Dancing means you do not have to think So I’ve tried to write a jolly song To kill the demons, right the wrongs Words and pictures help disguise Pain & sorrow behind your eyes Yes I’ve tried to write a happy song It’s not hard but something’s wrong I feel as though I’m cheating myself Leave the happy songs to someone else
12.
12. The Casual Racist The casual racist standing at the bus stop Texting stupid jokes to all his mates He thinks he’s being clever, being cool Spreading little messages of hate The casual sexist sitting on the bar stool Lustily leering after the barmaids ass Thinks his friendly banter is just harmless She blankly smiles and pours another glass There’s nothing casual about your prejudice A vicious sense of humour, no one’s hurt Intolerance is not a laughing matter Treating human beings just like dirt The casual fascist standing right beside you Starts conversations ‘I’m not racist but...’ He’d join the EDL but he can’t spell it If you can’t say anything nice, keep it shut If you can’t say anything nice, mate, keep it shut
13.
16. Sophie Lancaster How big and hard and tough do you need to be? To kick a little girl in the face How out of your tiny mind do you have to be? To kick a little girl in the face How callous and depraved have you become? To kick a little girl in the face How twisted up with hate do you have to be? To kick a little girl in the face Publicly ridiculed for looking different Verbally abused for looking different Physically attacked for looking different Beaten and killed for looking different Do you ever get used to the jibes and the insults The petty name calling and the torrents of abuse Even though you understand the childish games Narrow minded ignorance is not an excuse They gather in gangs for safety in numbness Spitting out poison from nasty little minds Picking on those who appear to be different Vile prejudice burns while hatred blinds An everyday occurrence not headline news Only taking notice when a young girl dies Things only change when you’re paying attention It doesn’t go away when you close your eyes How big and hard and tough do you need to be? To kick a little girl to death How out of your tiny mind do you have to get? To kick a little girl to death How callous and depraved have you become? To kick a little girl to death How twisted up with hate do you have to be? To kick a little girl to death Publicly ridiculed for looking different Verbally abused for looking different Physically attacked for looking different Beaten and killed for looking different
14.
Wasted Life 00:24
14. Wasted Life I’m numbing my senses, pumping shit in my veins My heads so full of glue, I’m not left with many brains I’m too much of a coward, to try and slash my wrists So I kill myself slowly, getting stoned and pissed I can’t face reality, in this god awful place But I’ll end a wasted life, with a smile on my face
15.
15. No Freedom in Escapism Where’s the revolution when you’re too stoned to stand? How do you pose a threat to the governments plan? When the mind numbing substance, takes a hold on your activity Your so called peace is just selfish escapism, drowning in apathy Show me the freedom, you possess, the freedom to vegetate, to die As your vanity finally consumes you, can your life be justified?
16.
16. I Still Hate Thatcher Modern politicians are faceless drones With very few obvious redeeming features Insipid civil servile test tube clones Slithering around like spineless creatures The blurred definitions of right and left Only serve to smudge the party lines Absurd grey robots ideologically bereft Make me hanker after harsher times I despise George Bush, I never trusted Blair When it comes to David Cameron, I’m a little bit scared But I still fuckin' hate Thatcher I still fuckin' hate Thatcher Thatcher wants a state funeral, With a twenty-one gun salute So you bring yours and I'll bring mine, Tucked inside a mourning suit A bus load of musicians, Will be lining up to play To entertain the millions, Who’ll be dancing on her grave I despise George Bush, I never trusted Blair When it comes to David Cameron, be a little bit scared But I still fuckin' hate Thatcher I still fuckin' hate Thatcher For the Unions, the squaddies and the unemployed For all the lives that bitch destroyed For all the souls she bought and sold The miners left out in the cold Close communities torn asunder All the people she had murdered All the victims of corporate greed Prisoners of conscience never freed For all she did and all she said We should all rejoice when Thatcher’s dead
17.
Hoodies 01:00
17. Hoodies The Streets are full of hoodies, Vicious scallies and thieves At least that’s what the headlines, Would have us all believe They vilify the youth, The way they’ve always done They distort the truth, To stop you having fun Too old & bored for youth clubs, Too young and skint for pubs Prime candidates for asbos, Mindless violence and drugs Condemned upon the scrapheap, Before they’re out their teens An endless source of fodder, To feed the war machines They keep old England frightened, Keep Joe public off the streets It justifies them putting, Fewer Bobbies’ on the beat Closed Circuit TV’s cheaper, And the camera never lies Recording all your movements, With prying spying eyes So don’t go outside, stop indoors, A prisoner in your own home Find imaginary friends on the internet, So you’ll never feel alone
18.
18. The War on Terror The war on terror is a war on freedom Thought crime will land you in prison Greater powers to arrest you on suspicion Ordinary people treated with derision Hatred and mistrust of your family and friends Suddenly your neighbours are strangers again Suspicion burns a hole in the fabric of this land Kneejerk condemnation when we fail to understand Division of community is nearly complete Fear and hatred right up your street Gagged and bound up nice and neat Dragged out, ground up beneath their feet On behalf of the state we’re treated all the same Fitted up, banged up, never seen again On behalf of the state we’re treated all the same Fitted up, banged up, never seen again You could be on the list of potential terrorists Easily susceptible to extremist views Detained without charge for six weeks of questioning Or shot through the head on the ten o’clock news
19.
19. Weary of the Flesh You disguise the truth with pretty names A living thing is now a joint of beef You shift the blame but you can’t hide Your sickly smile, your blood stained teeth You are the butcher, not the man in the shop But you haven’t got the guts to kill your meal If you saw the pain it would make you sick Just think how the animals feel….. Just think how the animals feel! Chamber of Horrors The rouge on your cheeks, is the blood of innocent creatures Your mascara is charred flesh, burnt to enhance your features Your lipstick is a severed limb, removed by the scientists’ knife Your beauty is the worst kind of ugliness That destroys an animal’s life In the lab, on a marble slab, its epitaph for all to read I gave my life for your pretty face That you so desperately need
20.
20. I Still Hate Thatcher - Extended Version Modern politicians are faceless drones With very few obvious redeeming features Insipid civil servile test tube clones Slithering around like spineless creatures The blurred definitions of right and left Only serve to smudge the party lines Absurd grey robots ideologically bereft Make me hanker after harsher times I despise George Bush, I never trusted Blair When it comes to David Cameron, I’m a little bit scared But I still fuckin' hate Thatcher I still fuckin' hate Thatcher Thatcher wants a state funeral, With a twenty-one gun salute So you bring yours and I'll bring mine, Tucked inside a mourning suit A bus load of musicians, Will be lining up to play To entertain the millions, Who’ll be dancing on her grave I despise George Bush, I never trusted Blair When it comes to David Cameron, be a little bit scared But I still fuckin' hate Thatcher I still fuckin' hate Thatcher For the Unions, the squaddies and the unemployed For all the lives that bitch destroyed For all the souls she bought and sold The miners left out in the cold Close communities torn asunder All the people she had murdered All the victims of corporate greed Prisoners of conscience never freed For all she did and all she said We should all rejoice when Thatcher’s dead
21.
21. Miss Ten Percent Management will ease the strain Take the pressure off your brain Concentrate on being an artist Go away and get some practice Leave the business to the pros Just go out and play more shows Make more money for the kitty Another night in another city Ten percent of the life you lead Ten percent of the air you breathe Ten percent of the songs you sing Ten percent of everything You’ll never miss, miss ten percent Until you miss, miss ten percent You’ll wonder where, the money went You’ll never miss, miss ten percent Put your product on the shelves Want some profit for themselves When all the fingers take a cut Then you’re left with, not a lot Trample friendships with their greed Sack the ones they cannot bleed The business prospers once again Till they’re thrown off the gravy train Ten percent of the life you lead Ten percent of the air you breathe Ten percent of the songs you sing Ten percent of everything You’ll never miss, miss ten percent Until you miss, miss ten percent You’ll wonder where, the money went You’ll never miss, miss ten percent Miss ten percent, miss ten percent
22.
22. Letter from a Soldier I've been doing this job now, for fifteen years I've faced and dealt with, all my fears You wouldn't pictures of the things I've seen In high definition on your TV screen The cost of this war runs into billions While we're being shot at, by civilians Women and children, with live grenades Nobody's planning a victory parade No heroes welcome for those who make it back Another coffin draped, in a Union Jack After all this time, It's patently clear No one in this country, wants us here Post traumatic stress, a symptom of this war Acknowledged by the army, then ignored Any signs of weakness, psycho analysed Unfit for duty, good luck and goodbye

about

credits

released July 28, 2012

Recorded At Studio 1in12 Bradford - September 2011
Engineered By Bri Doom
Produced By Andy T. and Bri Doom

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Andy T. Todmorden, UK

Anarcho-Punk Poet/Artist. Released material on Crass Records over 30 years ago. Still writing, performing and recording on the newly re-activated All The Madmen Records.

contact / help

Contact Andy T.

Streaming and
Download help

Report this album or account

If you like Andy T., you may also like: