Nuclear Summer - Youngblood Brass Band

From the left shoulder of a nation

From skies lacking the mechanisms of death

From the burdened bellies of wrought iron angels we come, we drop, we’re bombs

And we’re in. Hordes of us, scraping over the walls

There is no darkness so deep that we cannot paint it present

There is no cause so bleak that we will bail in vain

We are the brain’s army, dispatched in vein and we c-c-course

Dead eyes run through.

Ink and pigment splattered on barren ground

Swords aloft!

Screaming battle cries in all tongues lost

The old blood boiling over timeless ideals

We are staining every soul present enough to look up;

Go home

Scarred and tattoo the sound all over your body, for these

Sun-dipped blades herald brighter spirits coming

And that gray lump you call a head is sliced clean off

Once a benevolent president tears open your cheek, a tongue will come flopping

out

It will lay on the ground licking slush off our frozen streets

Then it will die.

Your love curdled already besides

I’ll kiss your hand, but you won’t see the smirk beneath my lowered eyes

Nothing can get wise

All of my children are carrying knives

More pressure.

More fire.

More peace.

More vibe

More people.

More freedom.

More heat.

More live

More voice.

More feet.

More song.

More rise

More echo.

More cloud.

More test.

More sky

No quarter!

No vote!

No power!

No vice!

No king!

No vision!

No womb!

No right!

More signal!

More move!

More center!

More light!

More pressure!

More fire!

More peace!

More vibe!

More!

How 'bout a little warhead in your abdomen?

Ooh, how 'bout a stain?

How about armada is to javelin what battle is to game?

Oh!

Inverted world I’m thinking Nobel Prize

Because the marriage of preemption and commerce?

That was mine

I prefer a phallus to a circle every time

I prefer to make a beat that wipes a village from the map

I prefer a falling payload when it’s dancing on your lap

Are you perverts having fun yet?

It all comes out grey and matters less with each sunset

Here come a bomb.

The sound above language

The sound off-kilter with casualties pending

The patented death.

The action-packed ending

It’s not sarcasm.

We’re training eyes

Hands were we can see them.

Ass in the sky

Asinine lies for assassins in need

Of motives for making that human ink bleed

Champions, fly

Calling all living.

Affirming all dreams

Screaming all hell.

As real as it seems

Rescind your explosions.

Get up off toes

Kids are at attention tended towards prose

Smolder at shows, shoulder all comers

Dirty old bushmen your season is waning

Sorry about peace, big fucking bummer

Ignite a new kind of soul fusing father and mother

Here come the heat.

Nuclear Summer

More pressure.

More fire.

More peace.

More vibe

More people.

More freedom.

More heat.

More live

More voice.

More feet.

More song.

More rise

More echo.

More cloud.

More test.

More sky

No quarter!

No vote!

No power!

No vice!

No king!

No vision!

No womb!

No right!

More signal!

More move!

More center!

More light!

More pressure!

More fire!

More peace!

More vibe!

More pressure!

More fire!

More peace!

More vibe!

More!

More!

More!

More!

More!

More!

More!

More!

More!

More!

More!