Standing in the Way of Control – The Gossip

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God that girl can wail! She’s some fucking lungs on her, and a good aul tune between her and the backing band. There’s a real urgency to it. And, although its the norm nower days, you can dance to it, but more importantly you want to, and you find yourself a bit drunk yelling the lyrics along with it the centre of
Doyle’s, hands in the air. And you fall backwards, and into the deepness and swim out towards the dark but there’s no redemption for you here. We all stand alone with our sin. And the Lord comes to us, not the effeminate marshmallow ladyboy Jesus, but the real Jesus, the precursor to the suicide bomber, a tall
swarthy man bearded and muscled, and as he reaches me, he throws a rolled up cigarette to the floor behind him, it catches the petrol and the whole room behind him bursts into a sheet of flame and the rush of heat and air knocks you to your knees, or was it awe? And he reaches for your neck, grabbing you under the chin, pulling it up so that he can look into his eyes. And he see’s all. Every broken promise, not just to others but to yourself. He see’s the porn and the filth that populate your waking hours and the horrible goblin nightmares of your sleep. And just as he rips your throat out, and the blood splatters onto the concrete floor your kneeling on, and onto his robes, and the room if all black but for the flames behind him, and in his eyes, Jesus your executioner and saviour forgives you, just as you fall forward onto the floor, and your life blood streams out and the worst pain you feel is the confusion. He loves you. And He loves this album.

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