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The Beast

from Stations by Naevus

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about

Recorded and mixed by Lloyd James at Wooden Lung in 2011 and 2012.

lyrics

All of the young women
Have retired for the day
Their fathers have been posted
Somewhere very far away
The young men in the garden
Are on permanent display
And the winter days are growing ever shorter
Fifteen worried mothers
Are queuing at a door
They all heard the rumours
And would like to hear some more
About the Beast seen shuffling
Across the forest floor
And the interest he expresses in their daughters

Oh, Doctor, Doctor
I cannot see my eyes
Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor
I do not know my mind
And until I thought about it
I was doing fine

The drunken village doctor
Is stumbling in the street
With his hands inside his trousers
He says “I’d like to meet
The gentleman suggesting
That I stay off my feet”
As he plunges head-first into the gutter
The priest is peeping eagerly
Between the painted slats
Of the fence around the playground
Saying, “One day all these brats
Will more mourn the loss
Of religion and retail; that’s a fact”
As he notes down the obscenities they utter

Oh, Doctor, Doctor
I cannot see my eyes
Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor
I do not know my mind
And until I thought about it
I was doing fine


The grocer fills his shelves
To mirror fashionable memes
The butcher draws conclusions
Based on geometric themes
The baker deconstructs
The premise of his custard creams
And the author tips his hat to television
The programmer is playing
With his new-found cup-and-ball
The architect is action-painting
Onto fallen walls
The analyst is crawling
From the rubble of it all
Whilst the draughtsman dribbles onto his new crayon

Oh, Doctor, Doctor
I cannot see my eyes
Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor
I do not know my mind
And until I thought about it
I was doing fine

The engineer was wondering
What he had left to make
Until deciding that design
Should be for its own sake
And that all technology
Should now be built to break
As he steps over the letters in the hallway
The toast of Tin Pan Alley
Has sadly been reduced
To taking on commissions
For TV game show tunes
And to working up a jingle
For a tropical fruit juice
And his pseudonym’s been compromised by blackmail

Oh, Doctor, Doctor
I cannot see my eyes
Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor
I do not know my mind
And until I thought about it
I was doing fine

Sitting on the mountaintop
The Beast is in despair
His shoes don't fit his cloven feet
He’s losing all his hair
And there’s no-one left that thinks
That they could even get a fair price
For the soul that they’ve neglected
The Beast shouts from the mountain
“The problem with you folk
Is that you think that pleasure
Has become some kind of joke”
And puffing on his Marlboro
He starts to cough and choke
“There was a time when evil was respected!”

Oh, Doctor, Doctor
I cannot see my eyes
Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor
I do not know my mind
And until I thought about it
I was doing fine

“Once holding hands in supermarkets
Suited all you people
Now you congregate in packs
And throw your faeces at the steeple
Of the lonely local church
That stands decrepit and enfeebled
As you cavort around the prophylactic graveyard
The spirit of free enterprise
Has eaten up the past
The eagle of the fatherland
Now sits upon the mast
Of the ship of idiots sailing
At the shadow of the past
That leers from the horizon like a retard”

Oh, Doctor, Doctor
I cannot see my eyes
Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor
I do not know my mind
And until I thought about it
I was doing fine

credits

from Stations, released August 18, 2013
Words and music by Lloyd James.

license

all rights reserved

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Naevus London, UK

Lloyd James: voice, guitar. Ben McLees: bass. Hunter Barr: drums. Sam Astley: guitar.

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