Kowtow

by Stalking Horse

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1.
03:40
2.
04:31
3.
02:59
4.
03:10
5.
6.
04:10
7.
8.
04:18
9.
03:34

credits

released November 27, 2015

All songs: (P) & (C) 2015 Stalking Horse (www.stalkinghorse.co.uk).

All instruments played by Stalking Horse except:
- Drums on Gold Coins, Gift Horse, The Early Rushes, Maggot Hole and Calling Shotgun by Tommy Davidson.
- Drums on A Contrarian, Denouement, Century and Leviathan by James Kenosha.
- Backing vocals on Gold Coins and Leviathan by Fran Rodgers.
- Violin on Gold Coins by Sophie Green.
- Tuba on Denouement and Leviathan by Tom I'Anson.

Produced, recorded, mixed and mastered by James Kenosha (www.jameskenosha.co.uk) at The Lodge, Bridlington.
Artwork by David Lupton (www.david-lupton.com).
Hand drawn type by Tommy Davidson (www.tommydavidson.co.uk).
Layout by Ben Holden (www.bjthebear.com).

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Track Name: Gold Coins
If you’re watching, waiting for someone or something wonderful,
It’s not here and not there but you are free to believe what you want.
Don’t let them tell you what you won’t ever do or never planned,
Coz they don’t know that I don’t mind if I feel cast aside,
As long as you are…
As long as you are maudlin and speechless, coz I never remembered any jokes.
Whilst time flies, I realise that I’m sure that we were younger once.
As long as you are…
Track Name: Gift Horse
Though altruistic intents and purposes, we never did simulate what your function did or burn an effigy of ‘we’.
Should I remain so tight lipped and stoical, or should I carry your blues?

You might be saved and you might be not, but chances are you’ll walk with a synthetic smile again.
And when you walk, you might get lost, but I’ll but there with truncheon and compass close in hand.
To take you home, to take you out.

Drink the tea, its camomile, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
And all the while I hear you whisper “I wish I was sleeping”.
Cheek to cheek, its been a while, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
And all the while I hear you whisper “I wish I was sleeping”.
Track Name: A Contrarian
Sending you a cross stitch of wish lists, keep my jaws open wide or wired shut.
Stop speaking in acrostics and loose lipped veiled apologies.
How did I become so forgettable and starlit smitten? It was crafted by the everlong contrarian.

I see them wandering eyes. So do you or don’t you?

For each new day, electrolytes burn across the undertow and slip through the footnotes to emblazon us with the emblem of our contrarian.
Track Name: Denouement
Thoughts crawling away from me (crawling away from me) too soon.
I’m trying not to miss a beat or remain on my knees when you blow open the hatches to the past, coz it’s not like I remember no more.
Now blue sparks burn across a time I can never restart or resume.
Track Name: The Early Rushes
Walking down that road to catch the early rushes
Somethings up and I can’t believe my eyes
Somethings up inside

I found a loophole the animals closed and spark the torch lights in every town
You should be rushing back to earth…

…to wish godspeed to you all.
Track Name: Maggot Hole
I’m thinking of a way where we hurt ourselves but it doesn’t matter,
i’m dreaming of a day where we can find romance but it never happens.

The police around the flat and somethings buzzing in my ear.
Is it a 7 foot cockroach or could it be the maggot hole?
The stench has been there for weeks.
Kids are screaming “no more christmas, no more christmases”

The conclusion is nigh so grab your arsenal.
Forward unto the bridge then never seen again.
And tell the misfits I loved them, sorry I never learned to talk.
No more christmases.

So crash the car to kill the myth, forget all the tall stories, this ones for your memory.
Track Name: Calling Shotgun
They say idle hands are the devils workshop and we are sick of hearing tales of all your conquests.
We are sick of hearing voices in the head, blink two times and you’re surely dead.
Idle hands are the devils toolkit and we won’t quit.
They say idle hands are the devils workshop and we are sick of simply stumbling along to blindly acquiesce.
We start fingers clicking and feet twitching in the bed, then it dawns what a very sorry soul I have, all forlorn under a silver crest and we won’t rest for now.

I’ve heard it all so many times, I guess you’ve been hearing the same round here.
I wanna go and live a life that isn’t just sobersided fear.

Into the deep end, in through the gateway, aboard the boat to innocence and calling shotgun, I need a change from finding problems.

I’ve heard it all so many times, I guess you’ve been hearing the same round here.
I wanna go and live a life that isn’t just sobersided fear.
Track Name: Century
Don’t let the century end; for the past twenty weeks I’ve been sleeping by the shotgun waiting to get slain, with the windows closed and the desk lights switched on.
Don’t let the century end; for the past seven days I’ve been listening to the plugs hum.
And now I’m falling asleep again.
Don’t let the century end; counting the tears, counting damage that the bugs done.
Chewing on a silver spoon, I’m often glad it wasn’t born in your mouth.
Track Name: Leviathan
The iron clasp of a leviathan hand, it’s tensing around you.
Like cord flexing on a telephone line, a slipped disc it’s a miracle.
A split second from the whimpering pangs, or a memento about you.
Thoughts vexing on an overcast mind, left burst open and hysterical.

Warning signs come present yourselves from spider webs and hidden lairs
A sickening symmetry like left right left, we all plod towards (and fall into) the leviathan black hole

They’re attempting to foil you.
Split wires and a ready made plan; a tripped switch stops the cyclical…

...warning signs, come present yourselves from spider webs and hidden lairs
A sickening symmetry like left right left, we all plod towards (and fall into) the leviathan black hole