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Here Out West Mini E​.​P.

by ARTHUR GUN

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1.
In melancholy ponder, I'm treading water in the ground. Is it worth the swim I wonder, when it's much easier to drown. Well It's a sorry curse I'm under, to walk this world of upside down, To lead a life of constant squander slowly wilting on dry land, unfound. And it's just you, amidst the dark of Desolation Now. An age of unreason, lurks behind every closed door, An intellectual treason, to conquer all that's gone before. The writings no longer on the wall, it's laying trampled on the floor, And no light concludes the tunnel, just dirt and ash forever more. And it's just you, amidst the dark of Desolation Now. Only reduction's constant, every birth mark will fade. Why kid yourself it counts about the choices you have made. And faith's just an exploitation, of all the misery at hand- But then a world without corruption, is like an arm without a hand. So cast your futile self aside and chase your health into the ground. It's unsafe to say this twisted little place has been made the wrong way round. A suburbia of the mind at large, a price on every grain of sand, And a million commandments couldn't save this broken land. It's just you, alone in Desolation Now, It's just you, fading out, in Desolation Now.
2.
Madmen, killing madmen, for an out of date idea. And person, you forgo your freedom, to lead a life of constant fear. So Allah, God Almighty, if you're up there, if you've got a pair of ears- It's as plain as death to see, for all the things that you could be, you're not in control down here. So come on, strike me down, baby if you're up there strike me down Come on lord, strike me now, darling if you're up there strike me down. Have you ever, seen a species, with it's back against the wall? And why now, that you've learned to run, would you still insist to crawl? So mister with your sister stoned and gone now, well maybe you can set me straight- Do I live in vain to hope to ever understand the joke, or did I read your book too late? So come on, strike me down, baby if you're up there strike me down Come on lord, strike me now, darling if you're up there strike me down. Tell me where's your god now, Tell me where's your god now, Tell me where's your god now, Tell me, where's your god now?
3.
Oh the hard rain came and kept on falling, and down it will fall right to our bloody end. It's a fool's hope for anyone to hear you calling, from the cardboard cut-out castle you defend. It's a tall pedestal for technology as new world order, and the new iron curtain descends upon the mental border. And each child will learn that they must be the best, whatever that is, Here out West. To the middle of the East well a not so different beast is forming, and the Ayatollah sits with a loose cannon at his side. At his majesty's request oh the prayers are chanted every morning, and a missile flies best carrying the word of god inside. Invent an army of drugs, just to declare war on them. Send forth the hired guns, when you're needing a friend. It's never been a question of if, just a matter of when. Just as the atom splits, the paradigm will bend- And break under the continental shift, so place your bets, Here out West. Win at all costs and trample on the rest, discard what's left, Here out West. And each child will learn that they must be the best, whatever that is, Here out West.

credits

released October 16, 2012

All songs by Arthur Gun, 2012

Produced by Kris Harris

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ARTHUR GUN UK

ARTHUR GUN

Bringing you apocalyptic country & western for existentially twisted Jesus freaks and the psychologically stable insane, Arthur Gun are the intrepid pioneers of the dystopian present here to take you on a trip through the folk-rock wilderness.

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