Massacre
Jan-Feb 1994ce
The Nemo-Dog: "Massacre" is a Dumb Cow Go Home, Inc. production
All Songs By the Nemo-Dog.
Suckling At The She-Wolf's Breast {Romulus Dawn} (1994)
Feeding, feeding from the she-wolf's breast
The ideals I have come to know are gone
All the gods that I have trusted in, now they are dead...
A sharp crack of Pain, and a flood of pleasure: Release
And bask in the Afterglow...
Because I'm a ghost, you cannot hear me scream
Because I'm a ghost, you cannot see me cringe
Because I'm a ghost, you cannot hear me
Because I'm a ghost, you cannot touch me...
We're founding a new nation on the ideals of our forefathers
War at Night by the full Moon, feed the Lust or starve to death
Donning of the wolf-skin at dusk, and doffing it at dawn
Hide myself beneath the brush, and when the Sun comes, I'll be gone...
Because I'm a ghost, you cannot tell if I'm real,
Or know the reason I've come or know the things that I feel
Because I'm a ghost, you are not really there,
And if I can fly, I'll feel the wind in my hair...
Shelter (1993)
Oh! father of great light, insipid in life, if only I could still hide in you!
A fly in the window, a flower in the dark, and heedless flight to a synthesized shelter
I've been indoors so long, that the living room seems like outside
And outside is a threat, when it's so warm in my room
And it's warm in the Dark: fiery-eyed Father of nine
And when nine is down, and three is to go
Well, I still can't remember why I'm the one tripwire in the path of god...
Gravel in myu eyes, scarred retina skies, if only I could hide from you!
A bee in the window, a flower drowning in light, and desperate flight to a synthesized shelter
My shelter is turning into a cage
Massacre (1990)
Meine Augen sind in der Schwarze, die Schwarze in meinen Augen
*my eyes are in the blackness, the blackness in my eyes*
Bloodbath in the hills outside Gethsemene
Bloodbath on the hill outside of Bethlehem
Massacre:
Let's have a party in the middle of the ocean
Let's take the sand and gravel into our own hearts
Crimson dreams and interbred screams and naked feet on downward slopes and green-grass hills and godshead kills while bloodshed spills on empty clouds, till screams and dreams cut open your seems, Dionysus floods the land with blood and tears, ripped out to cleanse your fears, and arachnid razor blades slice thru your eyes!
Massacre: can you hear it now?
Dragging, kicking, screaming: all of this within my grasp
Quite a concept, is it not? Quite exhilerating, bleeding thought
Twisted back, nailed to a cross, with snakes and boards: he seems to fly!
With snapping bone and tearing flesh: he seems to fly!
We're trapped in pits and slimy shit is ripping skin up off of our backs and horrible smells and sounds it lacks, it's so much like a massacre, a barring wall of no escape, a room of skulls and circling gulls, chaotic lulls ring out aloud as arachnid razor blades slice thru your eyes!!
Massacre: can you feel it now?!
12 O' Clock in Babylon (1993)
Everything I've done is falling out
Everything I've had is slipping out
But above and beyond everything else
I must stop killing myself,
maybe...
Anesthesia and turpentine
Chloroform becomes a friend of mine
Laying helplessly collapsed on my front lawn,
As the witching hour strikes
In Babylon
12 O'clock in Babylon
12th hour past meridian
And I am wide awake, to feel the spiders crawling on my face... Everything I've done, I have done wrong
And worst is only to see that now
All I've believed is burnt to ash
And I can't even hide, because I've burnt my mask,
maybe...
The best I could hope for is numbness for awhile
Melancholia, blood, and bile
Laying helplessly collapsed on my front lawn,
As the witching hour strikes
In Babylon
Have no trust and ye may yet survive
Show weakness and ye will be robbed blind
Show me to the door, I must escape
The unbearable weight of concern in this dismal world
Crawl through these passageways dank with shit
If this is height, then I want vertigo,
maybe...
12 O'clock in Babylon
Lycanthropes come to sing their songs
And if you should live to see the fruit of your labor,
Then you will live to see it rot...
ĦOi! (1991)
One
Two
Three ĦĦOI!!
Entrance (1993)
I could sit here for a life
unthreatened
just aging, just dying
'Tis the price of crucifiction
'tis the price of love
and I withdraw
left in the outside world
a burden
enveloped by the submerging walls of isolation
'tis of where I touch the rose's stem
her thorns pricking my black velvet fingers
ripping
tearing another page of the book I hold life
while a dripping red sky devours my unbathed intentions
which sleep of a soft bed anguish
resting
lying upon its once ageless hearth manifestation
Cataclysm (1992)
Blood and grain: No soft upgrade,
Just a silver bullet and a shot in the dark
Catalyst under lying winds
Decline in sharpened pinball landscapes: Again?
"Making love on the beach" is fine; whatever...
But there's no beach in my mind
If you don't see, then you're not looking
Doesn't work, alive like me, another speck of gruel
Cataclysmic!? Bowl down head dog
Grelch nach nackle hark, crahal canchan klarg
Tearing the pages of the paper tiger, it's time to die
"Making love on the beach" is fine
But there's just one problem...
There's no beach on the moon!
I've given up on giving up the ghost...
Ride (1991)
Shame in shadows, we ride on a tip of oil
Out to this velvet sea of my casual design...
The words ride out on a sea of rock and nail
But never touch their fingers on the shores abroad...
Ask, mark, but don't try to stop me-
All roads lead away from home
The anguish disembowels, that's the way it is sometimes.
Hands fall off at the drop of a pen.
I went out to the desert, stretched my hands a cross the dunes,
And the peacock, whose eyes were devoured.
A pair of lights adistant, dweller in the hills with eyes,
Whose sight, it seems, mars my mind.
My torso ripped in half, my guts splatter across the window shield Of a passer-by,
As my head stains the blacktop
Crimson.
On Wings Of Wax (1991)
A bit of confusion, a bit of delusion, a bit of preposterous lie
A bit of the hand creaps ever down,
Creeps slowly down the inside of your thigh
We fly through Heaven in the night on wings of wax
On wings of wax, the Sun melts all of his words
Zarathustra taught us that if we had, then we could fly
But wings of wax would be our guide, our guide
What is the "meaning of life?" Why not just say, "I am flesh?"
The Long Crow and the Rooster: Thus spake Zarathustra,
When he taught us to fly
So this is what it means to fail!
So this is what it means to die!
I spring a well in the side of my neck:
Flight! Flight! Flight! Flight! Flight!
Everything is inverted, everything is perverted
Everything has gone inside out...
THIS RECORDING IS:
recorded (with highly economical equipment) by Chaleptimos and Loviatar,
but also Elisa Rowen played bass for Wings (not that you can hear it),
as well as guitar for the second version of Ride
(which is not included on all copies of the Nemo-Demo.)
Mary the Drummer played (you guessed it) saxophone for same said tracks.
They used to be in the band (sweet memories of a younger time...)
Plus Walter Douglass did bass-keys for track 7.
I want to be your sex-slave.
Walter Douglass Chaleptimos
Loviatar
the Nemo-Dog in 1994 (during this album):
Chaleptimos: Vox, Guitar, Bass, Perc, Keys, Drawing &c.
Loviatar: Keys, Bass, Guitar &c.
Dishonor (in a larval state): drums, vox, &c.
Sherwin: Bass, guitar.
Ivan Weiner: Perc, Keys, Guitar, &c.
Jezebel: Guitar, bass, &c.
Walter Douglass: Keys
Crystal: Drawing
Patrick Collins: Roadie
Ryan "Mad Dog Kowalski" Goldstein: Layout (computer stuff)
*To be in-the-know about the Nemo-Dog goings on, or to get
albums/stickers/assorted garbage, write
The Nemo-Dog Fan Club and Secret Werewolf Cult, at:
Groupies@NemoDog.org
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