by Watered Down

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In the name of Amoun-Ra, so that the Lord of the Thrones of the Two Lands might shine in his manifestation and the gate of heaven be opened upon the earth.

Special thanks to Dayne Gorgeous, Sarah Beaudin, Buddy Black, Sandra Collins, and most heartily to Rajiv and Debbie.


released September 16, 2015

Written and Performed by Michael Scott
on November 12th, 2014
at Waking Life Studio in Palgrave, On.
Produced by Dayne (Gorgeous) Gerous.
Mastered at Waking Life Studio.



all rights reserved


Watered Down Toronto, Ontario

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Track Name: VFF (View from the Foundation)
It is I who hails from exotic locals
with the arch of the covenant wrapped in a towel
safe in a wooden crate. From Jerusalem to outer space.
You are the very image of the four bar dance break.
Track Name: VFF II (Out Loud)
You smell like sea shells.
I taste like barley
that's only just slightly gone off.

I have forgotten
that girl I was winking.
It's all just your laughter and soft

spinning. I kiss your shoulder, put my
hand on your stomach
and bury my face in your hair.

You hum the melody,
exhale the words of the
wrong chorus into the air.

And then you drop your hip.
And I place my brow against your lips.
Track Name: Terrors
Long ago you were standing east of the door way
looking in and laughing. Why would you laugh at me?
I miss the music of your crewel natured lilting.
Your voice was most beautiful when you were sad and angry.
On weekends I stay in and wear your perfume and
watch old movies that remind me of you.
You left some things here, you can come and get them.
I'll say: "you look well," and nothing strange. . .
Track Name: Party Like a Cunt
You've got your panties back on.
Where did we go wrong?
I'm just trying to remind you what my mind's on.
But can we justify pregnancy with all I've done?
There are one or two things I can't reconcile.
I've never even raised my voice to a child,
but under orders I have done strange things with a smile
and there were ashes on everything for miles and miles.
Track Name: Terrors II
"Look, are we serious? Are we a movement or a club?
Are we talking about action or. . . or have we been lulled
into a standing sleep? These words are deep.
They should speak to your guts and move your feet!
Did Trotsky march? Did Lenin speak, or just stay home and smoke weed?
If you've ever turned your fist out,
it's time to prove you've got the grout.
Do your pieces fit together?
Are you an ice-pick or a hammer?
Don't tell me you're afraid of prison!
Of free meals and hard living?
Isn't that the thing that we're arguing for?
I promise worse than that and much more
before we're through here. Let me be clear,
I intend to inspire fear. When they're afraid,
they get angry. When they're angry, you get dirty.
Some of us are going to end up in cages.
They're going to confiscate your shoelaces.
We're not citizens. We're vermin.
They've got weapons. They're going to use them.
Track Name: Walk Low
Hold your weapons as she taught you and walk low.
Upon the capital with confidence. Move easy, slow.
Remember, yours was not the first step, so slow upon us this crept,
with only badge number as warrant they came into your homes.

How many people died for armed boarder guards,
oil fields, election fraud, and registration cards,
drug laws, a database of all your phone calls on audio tape?
This is just the first taste. Next year there'll be men at your gate.
Track Name: Driving Home From Church
Bring me crystal goblets.
Bring me jewelled swords.
Bring me tribute from your fruit trees.
Dedicate me you're rewards.
There's no car long enough,
no iquor strong enough.
I'm all contrary doctrines
there's no fire hot enough.
You've got beautiful feet.
You stand proud and complete,
washed with perfumed oils,
powdered, painted and neat.
Let us be discreet
as I lick your souls.
Try on my shoes.
Submit to my control.
Grind honeydew to a jelly
slowly and methodically.
Comb it through your black hair
rinse the sugars out gently.
Build a larger idol.
Weave your stockings from gold.
Your garters offer no protection
from these horrible poems.