• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• The Last Amethyst Deceiver - Coil
• Sicktone - Coil
• Viii. Escalation - B - (sonnet Lv) - Coil
• The Lost Rivers Of London - Coil
• The Dark Age Of Love - Coil
• Slur - Coil
• Restless Day - Coil
• Viii. Escalation - C - (sonnet Xxvii) - Coil
• The Wheel - Coil
• The Sea Priestess - Coil
• V. Cave Of Roses - (sonnet Liii) - Coil
• The Dreamer Is Still Asleep - Coil
• Tainted Love - Coil
• Snow Falls Into Military Temples - Coil
• The Coppice Meat - Coil
• Broken Aura - Coil
• X. Enochian Calling Ii - B (sonnet Lvi) - Coil
• Where Are You - Coil
• Vii. Madriiax - B - (sonnet Xciv) - Coil
• Things Happen - Coil
• The Sewage Worker's Birthday Party - Coil
• The Anal Staircase - Coil
• Vi. Sun Ascension A - (sonnet Cxlviii) - Coil
• X. Enochian Calling Ii - A (sonnet Lxi) - Coil
• A Slip In The Marylebone Road - Coil
• The Golden Section - Coil
• A White Rainbow - Coil
• Tattooed Man - Coil
• Broccoli - Coil
• Solar Lodge - Coil
• Cathedral In Flames - Coil
• Titan Arch - Coil
• Tenderness Of Wolves - Coil
• Teenage Lightning - Coil
• Love's Secret Domain - Coil
• Xi. Montecute (civ) - Coil
• Windowpane - Coil
• WHO BY FIRE - Coil
• Heaven's Blade - Coil
• Viii. Escalation - A - (sonnet Xxx) - Coil
• Vii. Madriiax - A - (sonnet Xxix) - Coil
• Things Happen (by Annie Anxiety-bandez) - Coil
• I Don't Want to be the One - Coil
• The Spoiler - Coil
• I. Ascension - (sonnet Lvii) - Coil
• The Auto-asphyxiating Hierophant - Coil
• A Cold Cell - Coil
• Vi. Sun Ascension B - (sonnet Cxxvi) - Coil
• Rosa Decidua - Coil
• Sex With Sun Ra - Coil

Pay your respects to the vultures
For they are your future
Our fathers and mothers have
Our fathers and mothers have
They have failed to release us
They have failed to release us
They have failed to release us
Into the welcoming arms (repeated)
Of the amethyst deceivers
So pay your respects
So pay your respects
Pay your respects to the vultures
And to the crows
And to the carrion crows
And to the ravens
Those graven ravens
And to the carrion crows
And to the rooks
And to the rooks
And to the vultures
And to the vultures
And to the vultures
Pay your respects to the vultures
For they are our future (repeated)
For they are your future
Our fathers and mothers have
Our fathers and mothers have
Our fathers and mothers have
They have failed to release us
Into the welcoming arms
Into the welcoming arms
Into the welcoming arms
Of the amethyst
Of the amethyst
The little mushrooms
The little mushrooms
Welcoming arms
Of the amethyst (repeated)

- We've been witnessing your many and varied forms of
control today. They're very effective.
- They're very pretty.
- Are you bothered?
- Stop! Stop! (and incoherent yelling)
- Leave me alone!
- (incoherent growled words repeated three times)
(incoherent yelling)
- Get it out, get it out, get it out, get it out, get it
out!
- No!
- Get... it... out! I want tits out!

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,

I'm gonna drown myself in London's lost rivers
I will walk down to the rain
From Hubert Montague Crackenthorpe's Vignettes (1896):
I have sat there and seen the winter days finish their
short-spanned lives; and all the globes of light —
crimson, emerald, and pallid yellow — start, one by
one, out of the russet fog that creeps up the river.
But I like the place best on these hot summer nights,
when the sky hangs thick with stifled colour, and the
stars shine small and shyly. Then the pulse of the city
is hushed, and the scales of the water flicker golden
and oily under the watching regiment of lamps.
The bridge clasps its gaunt arms tight from bank to
bank, and the shuffle of a retreating figure sounds
loud and alone in the quiet. There, if you wait long
enough, you will hear the long wail of the siren, that
seems to tell of the anguish of London till a train
hurries to throttle its dying note, roaring and
rushing, thundering and blazing through the night,
tossing its white crests of smoke, charging across the
bridge into the dark country beyond.
In the wan, lingering light of the winter afternoon,
the parks stood all deserted, sluggishly drowsing, so
it seemed, with their spacious distances muffled in
greyness: colourless, fabulous, blurred. One by one,
through the damp misty air, looked the tall, stark,
lifeless elms. Overhead there lowered a turbid sky,
heavy-charged with an unclean yellow, and amid their
ugly patches of dank and rotting bracken, a little mare
picked her way noiselessly. The rumour of life seemed
hushed. There was only the vague listless rhythm of the
creaking saddle.
The daylight faded. A shroud of ghostly mist enveloped
the earth, and up from the vaporous distance crept
slowly the evening darkness. A sullen glow throbs
overhead: golden will-o'-the-wisps are threading their
shadowy ribbons above golden trees, and the dull,
distant rumour of feverish London waits on the still
night air. The lights of Hyde Park Corner blaze like
some monster, gilded constellation, shaming the dingy
stars. And across the east, there flares a sky-sign, a
gaudy crimson arabesque. And all the air hangs draped
in the mysterious sumptuous splendour of a murky London
night.
I'm gonna drown myself in the lost rivers of London