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Holy Punk

from Holy Punk by Mechanimal

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lyrics

Aged brass, patinated to pleasure
Brass balls and a strut to match,
Posters on walls and lingerie,
Black eyeliner till it starts to drip.

Chance encounters with total strangers,
Smoking fags, at truck stops
Slow cruising to Buddy Holly,
In gun metal, paint jobs.

Love letters to the ones that betrayed us,
Hatred towards the ones that love us,
It’s a paradox, an infinite gesture
Our bodies sluts, our souls are all whores.

Fuck the Lord and the horse he rode in on,
Fuck the disciples and fuck his son,
Misery shares and we all think we’re special,
The truth is that we expire alone.

It’s a mystery like Agatha Christie’s
We all pretend like we know who’s to blame
It’s cathartic to feel like we’re giving,
But we give for our egos alone.

Consume in bulk to fight the depression,
Consume in bulk “hey, look what I’ve got!”
My tits are real, my lips are injected,
I’m getting rid of my expression lines.

Chance encounters with perfect strangers,
Smoking and drinking, at truck stops,
Still cruising to Buddy Holly,
Getting Pussy and blow jobs.

Chance encounters with perfect strangers,
Smoking fags, at truck stops,
Slow cruising to Buddy Holly,
Getting pussy and giving ass.

credits

from Holy Punk, released December 16, 2019

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about

Mechanimal Athens, Greece

Mechanimal is a modular band from Athens (GR), an industrial project in progress, a unique collective of musicians and video artists, recording in various permutations and staying true to the original roots of post-punk melancholy.

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