Short Wave on a Cold Day

I) Vatican City (March 1999), Cleft Heart, Roman Holiday I’ll grow my garden by the tracks And spill the seed of Central Roma To splash the crowd. “He” bruised His knuckles on the wall, While they held “Him” out with ashen circles And Swiss Guard. Sunlight breaks the golden room, And burns atop the devil’s forehead Amongst the throng. As Saint Peter walked away The Devil laughed within the gift shop; And bought a post card. Is it true that I close my eyes Every time that you wave goodbye? Is it true that I close my eyes Every time that you wave goodbye? Within the Sistine and marble graves. Blind beneath the gaze of Pius And weakened sky. The tablet stained from acetate. While the wretch and jaded pass unmoved, or Unknown in life. Is it true that I close my eyes Every time that you wave goodbye? Is it true that I close my eyes Every time that you wave goodbye? Is it true that I close my eyes Every time that you wave goodbye? So, wave goodbye. II) We can find our teeth in the gutters, sparkling like eyes. There’s a role I like to play. While waking up, her hair was bleeding Into the clouds. Turn your face up, Little Day. My Satanic effervescence flowing Can make her smile. Is it true that I close my eyes Every time that you wave goodbye? Is it true that I close my eyes Every time that you wave goodbye? Is it true that I close my eyes Every time that you wave goodbye? So, wave goodbye. “Laws can discover sin, but not remove.” Milton

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025

I) Prague, Czech Republic (March 1999), Lovely Dwellings, Soccer-brawls My train could crawl along, So apologetic to translate this song. A pictorial of fights And milquetoast answers to polarize our plight. Porous as the stars. I’ve rogued a week since sleeping through Milan. I’ll miss her, all so much, like the Limmett and the tumblers that she serves. In my life you know the words can come out wrong, But that’s just language that can’t keep this Brother down. When you’re far away, I love the chaos you do; But when you’re close, you whisper, “Yes, I’m lonely too”. II) Negotiations amok (?Dver), and beautiful people in rotten places. Litigious while in route. The plaudit of the train-crossed rainy ground. I’ll become the alcohol, And salutations cue this drunk to perform. I’m a suffragist at heart. Just call me “zero” when the curtain falls. Please, talk to me some more. My Czech improves with every drop you pour. In my life you know the words can come out wrong, But that’s just language that can’t keep this Brother down. When you’re far away, I love the chaos you do; But when you’re close, you whisper, “Yes, I’m lonely too”. Lonely too. Lonely too. Lonely too. (Smile lonesome). Lonely too. (Smile lonesome). Lonely. [Lead] In my life you know the words can come out wrong, But that’s just language that can’t keep this Brother down. When you’re far away, I love the chaos you do; But when you’re close, you whisper, “Yes, I’m lonely too”. Lonely too. Lonely too. Lonely too. (Smile lonesome). Lonely too. (Smile lonesome). Lonely. “Give me a drink, Mandragora, that I may sleep away this gap in time.” Shakespeare

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 26, 2025

I) While finding lodging between Neptune and Earth, and needing some caffeine. She said she’s the waitress, and I’m a bad man. You could screw me up like Christmas lights in the morning. We take a Fireline and make emissions. Orbit ‘round and crash-land into my head. Her soiled apron Was like the front of our thoughts and my distraction. She could kiss me ‘till my visor smoldered and went blank. Suffocate, then resuscitate. It’s alright if they say we’re friends, because I can’t change what wasn’t said. It’s alright if they say we’re friends. (Now break out the champagne and float up the walls.) (And burn out.) She leaves her night shift, and I’m a basement. This piece of rock could orbit God for all that I care. I love her diodes as well you can in nitrogen. Suffocate, then resuscitate. It’s alright if they say we’re friends, because I can’t change what wasn’t said. It’s alright if they say we’re friends. (Now break out the champagne and float up the walls.) II) Vodka and eggs. (That’s one.) (That’s two.) (That’s three.) (That’s four.) (That’s five.) (That’s six.) She said “I’m waitress, and I’m half-machine. I’d love to hear your story, but there are dishes to clean. Leave the pulsar early and fill up my gasoline”. Orbit ‘round and orbit lost “I’ll striketh thou hard ‘nuff to cause bleeding of thy peanut” Laughing Man

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025

I) Deep in the year 2000, with a shovel and a telescope. Mercury moves, Much as a wandering star. Gray diameter noise, And stalemates of radius. Margaret, I see your dreams of burning coal. I’ll let you think you’re alone. Fly towards Rosette. Her universal fuel. Proxima levitates, And scars the grass green, Like a scream. Margaret, I see your dreams of burning coal. I’ll let you think you’re alone. II) Make a delicious comment about my shadow. I’ll burn for two; they’re there for you. (Say, at your death, it’s a go, it’s a go with a grin, and a loan.) (Say, at your death, it’s a go, it’s a go with a grin, and a loan.) I’ll burn for two; they’re there for you. (Say, at your death, it’s a go, it’s a go with a grin, and a loan,) (And you shatter so easy.) Margaret, I see your dreams of burning coal. I’ll let you think you’re alone. If it’s the kiss of spirals, And a bastard's high. Make simplicity latent, While zero and monster. Margaret, I see your dreams of burning coal. I’ll let you think you’re alone. Margaret, I see your dreams of burning coal. I’ll let you think you’re alone. “The oracles are dumb.” Milton

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 26, 2025

I) Beaver Island, 1999, “sailors ahoy and hysician”. Atlantic rain may come and go. Splintered ice on Huron flows. Autumn’s burning leaves can blow. So you build me up in my stance With a face that could stare down a mountain, And turn me on. With these little thoughts alive, Act like photographs of our life That turn me on. That turn me on. I saw a forest filled with snow, And a chimney slowly smoke; Watching as steam surrounds a stove. So you build me up in my stance With a face that could stare down a mountain, And turn me on. With these little thoughts alive, Act like photographs of our life That turn me on. That turn me on. Rainstorms blur morning, figureless designs. Eaves filled with oak leaves, skin much gray as mine. Pour Rivers of Porto, granite fireplace, And groan “oh, sin forever with or without alike names, yea.” I see tall ships move in close, And on the bow I see a ghost That’s of Protar sailing home. So you build me up in my stance With a face that could stare down a mountain, And turn me on. With these little thoughts alive, Act like photographs of our life That turn me on. That turn me on. That turn me on. That turn me on. “It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright.” Franklin

I) En route between Zurich and Rome, springs of 2000, bottled water and diesel fumes. Red-eye to Minsk for you. I’d scorch the flag for you. Ink blots in arms. Wide eyes at dawn. (Yes, you’ll know.) Torches lit can guide. The mezzanine’s no place to kiss Judy Fly. Odessa rail for you. I’d doze in a bomb for you. My hand drips wine On pills made sky. (Then we’ll burn.) Torches lit can guide. The mezzanine’s no place to kiss Judy Fly. II) Meaningless montage, extreme turnip Scream of airwaves crackle with life (Digi-roaming), and choke (I’m singing). We’re all the same as projected light. I spent my years, here, rotting in jail (Spin a beauty), I’m boiling (ooze honey), I’m sad to relay. Flout my love for you. Outguess my quirk for you. As storm clouds part, Raindrops make rust, (And leave stains.) Torches lit can guide. The mezzanine’s no place to kiss Judy Fly. “Much study is weariness of the flesh” Ecclesiastes xii

Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 26, 2025

I) Four a.m. and heading strait at a ditch for kicks. You could drive me in your car, I’m back on the sauce and burning law. Tires pushing dirt in the Eastern snow. I hear the weatherman spill his lore. He says, “The sun and the ground have flipped upside down. Mutter in this ear, my charlatan, Alliterations frightened. Just touch me and I’m gone. And then you kiss my bloody mouth, And I don’t care how many times You stick around. Nothing heals you when frozen. It’s just the measure of our miles. The measure of our miles...” II) Politics of the vinyl warrior, making babies cry. We could crawl beneath the Senator’s alarms. You dig your cold hands in the cold dirt to keep them warm. I’ll kick over the hourglass. Populist in both lands. Raise flags and salute. So they push me ahead to make love with the dead. Pulse beating like a skipping disc. There’s a marketplace for my big mouth, So get the “fuck” out of my car. “And then you kiss my bloody mouth, And I don’t care how many times You stick around. Nothing heals you when frozen. It’s just the measure of our miles.” She saw the Devil wake up, alone, in the morning And stare from the windows fold, And take his isometric kiss of polar snow, Barometer falls; Then the Devil woke up, his skin on fire, Disturbed from boredom and cold. She said it’s time to burn out, you fucking liar; Again, made of dirt and hopeless charm. “And then you kiss my bloody mouth, And I don’t care how many times You stick around. Nothing heals you when frozen. It’s just the measure of our miles.” “And then you kiss my bloody mouth, And I don’t care how many times You stick around. Nothing heals you when frozen. It’s just the measure of our miles.” “And then you kiss my bloody mouth, And I don’t care how many times You stick around. Nothing heals you when frozen. It’s just the measure of our miles.”

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 26, 2025

I) Pine River, 2002, how a moment becomes a monument. So oil drips on Cedar trees, And the dirt path’s wet with rain. This bridge could span a spotted stream of cancer reeds That are bent within my brain. And the village liar stole my morals while away. And I feel fine. You know I’m fine. I strap my forehead To a landmine Since I feel fine And ran into a wall. I’ll carve out my grandfather’s spine, And turn it into a boat. Shore up the holes with my hands, And see if the vessel will float. Steer it into the waves, With the Devil at the rudder. I’ll carve out my grandfather’s spine, And turn it into a boat. September dries my heart From the damp of the riverbank, And from the mud we clench like flesh in a vise. Two lovers in flames. America could burn as the anthem drones. And I feel fine. You know I’m fine. I strap my forehead To a landmine. Everybody likes to watch you cry. Everybody likes to watch you cry. Everybody likes to watch you cry. Everybody likes to watch you cry. So what. It’s done. I’ll carve out my grandfather’s spine, And turn it into a boat. Shore up the holes with my hands, And see if the vessel will float. Steer it into the waves, With the Devil at the rudder. I’ll carve out my grandfather’s spine, And turn it into a boat. Everybody likes to watch you cry. “What’s done we partly may compute, but know not what’s resisted.” Burns

I) Armageddon letdown 2001, head full of cotton. They shot me kisses from lacquered cars, And stake up a question of new ways to roll. Batters the mute to a killing mask. So get up girl, off your hands. So break my heart in two, Just like I said to you. So break my heart in two. She never said she’s sorry. She never said much anything. Seven days a week, and I can’t sleep. Make-out shoes and spilling coke. Cruise up on Sundays just for the jokes. The “bland” spar the “high” in a musical. It makes us all laugh. So break my heart in two, Just like I said to you. So break my heart in two. She never said she’s sorry. She never said much anything. Seven days a week, and I can’t sleep. She never said she’s sorry. She never said much anything. Seven days a week, and I can’t sleep. II) She used my neuro-cotton to knit a blanket for someone else. Why do you pour on the tap so cold? It may take some guile, of some freak. Now, shall we reverse on our pact bleached nothing? Yeah, ‘till then, I’ll cry what an awful year it was. Maybe lost days are sillier. Produce a diamond made up of junk. Winter’s cold and so am I. So shut-up and leave. So break my heart in two, Just like I said to you. So break my heart in two. She never said she’s sorry. She never said much anything. Seven days a week, and I can’t sleep. She never said she’s sorry. She never said much anything. Seven days a week, and I can’t sleep. “His wit being snuft by want burnt clear.” Killigrew

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 26, 2025

I) Beneath Lake Superior, domes and acceleration 2013. Terra’s face split a lunatic grin before it cracked the ground. The radio squelched “Rhapsody in Blue” and went dead by the coda. And all my life we laughed as it starts to rain. I’ll be along the satellites that crash into the suburbs of our city. I heard her on the short-wave radio. I’ve come to hear her sing. II) My office in the Harvest section, concentration usage. Lyra made minor escapes as the antenna aligned. Amid an issue of “Sky and Telescope” sat a liter of Beam Rye. I loathe my life because I blinked when the missiles came, Now we huddle around the vacuum tubes awaiting news of the principality. I heard her on the short-wave radio. I’ve come to hear her sing, But she’s just humming on and on and on, She’s just humming on and on and on. III) Injections of lithium, anger goes blah. I stand among the shattered pines as the rain pours over. As rivers circumvent my shoes, and rush urgently to the gutters. And with this life I adored when scheming hate. Yet there’s Cassinni lounging on Saturn’s rings spying my skin disintegrate. I heard her on the short-wave radio. I’ve come to hear her sing, But she’s just humming on and on and on, She’s just humming on and on and on, She’s just humming on and on and on, She’s just humming on and on and on. I heard her on the short-wave radio. I’ve come to hear her sing, But she’s just humming on and on and on, She’s just humming on and on and on. [Lead] She was humming on and on and on, She was humming on and on and on. She will hum God is dead to you. She will hum God is dead for you. “Philosophy will clip an angels wings.” Keats

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 26, 2025

I) All those ladies have lips like bricks Has she known the sight of what is so unright, And the sheriff can study distrust on sight. I recall being surprised by the surface of her mind. The Hitman at the office gates sees victory, since it isn’t me. (The moonrise) a tax upon the science file. (Turn in line) and move to the back again. (Turn in line) and move to the back again. (The moonrise) is just my state of crime. Juno, can you feel her death from behind the isle, As booms in wireless distract the Western Wall’s denial; While Belarus struggles with Pepsi’s lobby signs, Because Jesus drives his best in a high performance design. (The moonrise) a tax upon the science file. (Turn in line) and move to the back again. (Turn in line) and move to the back again. (The moonrise) is just my state of crime. “A kick that scarce would move a horse may kill a sound divine.” Cowper

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 26, 2025

I) June 2000, illiterate baboons, I’m going out. What will you see? Princess of the underground. Her seasonal transit of what’s imminent. Eking through her moods and confectionery guns. It blurs her face despite my hate. She said, “I know what I want you to do. Fall apart, fall apart my imaginary wrong.” An epiphany for two. And we pray to nothing, ‘cuz nothing believes, And I’m losing my mind in a bedroom with a ghost; And I’m losing my mind in a bottle while I choke, (like I wanted). I spent years with you. No one knows, but I want them to. II) The killer passed out before dawn. Hello, Murder. Killer or Gray. Maps of Rome, and crumbling stone. Alcove of meds. I’m crashing motorcars. The Republic of Gin. The Commonwealth of Rum. She said, “I travel Atlantic Blue. Broken star, broken star, let’s pretend that you’re gone. Caring less of you.” And we pray to nothing, ‘cuz nothing believes, And I’m losing my mind in a bedroom with a ghost; And I’m losing my mind in a bottle while I choke, (like I wanted). I spent years with you. No one knows, but I want them to. And they say there’s a lifetime to get around. (It’s flowing on me, now, it’s flowing on you;) And so I think about the Java girl next door. (Time’s better for me when the murder is true.) And we pray to nothing, ‘cuz nothing believes, And I’m losing my mind in a bedroom with a ghost; And I’m losing my mind in a bottle while I choke, (like I wanted). I spent years with you. No one knows, but I want them to. And we pray to nothing, ‘cuz nothing believes, And I’m losing my mind in a bedroom with a ghost; And I’m losing my mind in a bottle while I choke, (like I wanted). I spent years with you. No one knows, but I want them all, too.

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025

I) Deep in the Stix, 1953 in Mendon, Michigan, sun burnt. I’ll rip up the photos of “Kiss of the Worm”. (I’ll rip up the photos of “Kiss of the Worm”.) There’s tears of dust as Kansas bled thru. (There’s tears of dust as Kansas bled thru.) Making bottles fill with wine. Hiding in rows set on either side. Why not turn me in? I wouldn’t not begin. Eisenhower raped you With forty light-years of debt. Now the sign upon bathroom reads “So says Ike”. “So says Ike”. II) Lazing, for a hayseed am I. Mow out a ball-field in the weeds by the road. (Mow out a ball-field in the weeds by the road.) One more failure, and I think I’ll turn to God. (One more failure, and I think I’ll turn to God.) We could crawl these natural halls, Or drink as the Babe at the end of fall. Oh, Lord, I can’t forgive. Since I’m into this. Eisenhower raped you With forty light-years of debt. Now the sign upon bathroom reads “So says Ike”. “So says Ike”. [Lead] III) Pitchforks and lunacy, coup begins. Spill out the dairy, and oil up our guns. (Spill out the dairy, and oil up our guns.) Stand in the field till blisters start to form. (Stand in the field till blisters start to form.) With your smirk buried in dirt, With a child’s sneer creeping to the sky. Don’t move, you’ll incite a mess When Gods are counting heads. Eisenhower raped you With forty light-years of debt. Now the sign upon bathroom reads “So says Ike”. “So says Ike”. “So says Ike”. “To many men well-fitted doors are not set on their tongues.” Theognis

Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 26, 2025

I) Swerving at the trees, summer of ‘98, insomnia and sadness. I never want to wake up again. I need to sleep until the sun has split the ground, Then smear the salt from my eyes And slowly rise. I can hear the purr and feel the hum Of my Volks silently backing down the drive. It’s inanimate luscious Reckless veering right. Its exhaust says goodbye. You know I never meant to be unkind (been gone so long), And it’s not that I’ve regretted my life much (that I can’t remember you); But there’s something that I fear, like a beautiful coma that is pulling down. You know I never meant to be unkind, and it’s left me… …anxious. Not unlike the corpse used to walk, With his denim jacket zipped tight. Oh, oh stumbling amongst the bricks, Still spilling his mind. Could you light my cigarette, And pass a bottle of your cheapest. Lamplight on the bricks. A lost passerby. My favor kept at night. You know I never meant to be unkind (been gone so long), And it’s not that I’ve regretted my life much (that I can’t remember you); But there’s something that I fear, like a beautiful coma that is pulling down. You know I never meant to be unkind, and it’s left me… II) Odd conclusions, and a rag stuffed in my mouth. It was forever before we could stand it all. Casting self winding insults. Can you keep your hands at your side (as the world passes by)? Did you clench your fists in your pockets As the universe ignored you? You know I never meant to be unkind (been gone so long), And it’s not that I’ve regretted my life much (that I can’t remember you); But there’s something that I fear, like a beautiful coma that is pulling down. You know I never meant to be unkind, and it’s left me… You know I never meant to be unkind (been gone so long), And it’s not that I’ve regretted my life much (that I can’t remember you); But there’s something that I fear, like a beautiful coma that is pulling down. You know I never meant to be unkind, and it’s left me… “He knew what’s what, and that’s as high as metaphysics can fly.” Meta

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 26, 2025

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

I) September 2000, the before and after transmitter. Verbose and bliss steals a lifetime. Kali floats on my death and watched. Slavic hues, denizen frames mainlines. Shooting up into, has made my lips blue. (I am so blue.) You chastised God when the market crashed, As the mizzens of symbols fell. Judy fished at the stars from the drive-in. So, squeeze tight my hand, ‘till the blood moves back. I’ll turn on my shooting star, My neutron bomb. My face burns off here, Nova blue. (So blue...) Gilbert moved. Makes fires by the freeways. The films scratched and Elba’s bankrupt. Whisper audio from the speaker on the world stage. Droll as the colorist amid new failures. I’ll turn on my shooting star, My neutron bomb. My face burns off here, Sapphire blue. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). I’m alien and pure. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). I’m alien and… II) Enormous sightings of Satanic Alien Headpeople Seamless cut of the curve of her face. I bruised when her glare met mine. She shouldn’t care, shouldn’t want to be erased. Glancing up her spine, and gleaning what’s left alive. I’ll turn on my shooting star, My neutron bomb. My face burns off here, Quasarish blue. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). I’m alien and pure. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). I’m alien and pure. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). I’m alien and pure. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). (inaudible screaming) I’m alien and… [Lead] I’ll turn on my shooting star, My neutron bomb. My face burns off here, Nuclear blue. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). I’m alien and pure. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). I’m alien and pure. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). I’m alien and pure. (Light up the proton machine.) (I hear). (inaudible screaming) I’m alien and… “Once and again, the booze is swifter than the sword.” Viznic

This track is instrumental.

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