Music & lyrics © 2012 Sunniva Lind • Svart Katte Records
Vocals & piano by Sunniva Lind • Guitars by Joe Danher (All In The Family, Johnny Boy, Circular) & James Whitehouse (Metal Giant, Circular) • Bass by Joshua Ballantyne • Drums by Rodrigo Alves. Mixed by Tony Draper • Mastered by Robin Schmidt at 24-96 Mastering
•
LYRICS
•
Metal Giant
Hey Stranger. Wipe that mask off your face. You don’t have to demonstrate your power
You don’t have to let me know you’re in charge. No one here wants you any harm.
I think I know you and I know I love you, so
Please – I don’t care if you’re shy. Wash the coldness from your eyes. I would love to see you cry
Hey Stupid. Wipe that face off your face. Who’s this smug fuck and why’s he wasting my time?
You don’t fool anyone and I am not impressed with your act
Who needs an armor in, oh, this kind of weather, so
Please –
Stop these fucking games, I’m not interested in fighting you
You tease me with the door but never let me see your hurt
I wanna be surrounded by it, I’ll eat anything you’ve got
I wanna look you up and down, so drop it now, and let me
Metal Giant, get your shoulders down and let me see you, forget what you’re not allowed
Wipe that smirk off your mouth, it ain’t improving your looks. Get your impressions straight, get your nose out of those books
And come one and,
Please –
All In The Family
Burned child, your name is Silence
Do you hide what you know of violence?
Do you bear your brother’s enemies? Reminisce
Ooh, it’s all in the family
Mama, cry. The spark’s igniting
Why try? They will not stop their fighting.
Do you fear that this is how it’ll be, eternally?
Ooh, it’s all in the family
Hits don’t burn like the fear that turns all the Scared Little Boys stern
Poor, tortured soul. Unholy, unwhole. Scared Little Boy, only thirty years old
Transfer the pain, and hit me again
Lady, why are you repeating the past with
each new guy, do you so need that beating?
Does it tear your precious heart apart?
Ooh, it’s all in the family
Hits don’t burn like the fear that turns all the Scared Little Boys stern
Poor, tortured soul. Unholy, unwhole. Scared Little Boy, only thirty years old
Transfer the pain, and hit me again
Your hits don’t burn me
Scared Little Boy you are
Johnny Boy
There goes Johnny, oh, that lonely boy. Ain’t nobody calling to him
Ain’t nobody wondering where he goes
He’s a funny one, that Johnny Boy. Too intense, too explosive
One of them nobody really knows
I wonder where he picks it up. What made him the way that he is
I wonder where he picks it up.
He is not like us, that Johnny Boy. Doesn’t laugh along with our jokes
Don’t act like we’ve grown to think is best.
Need an attitude adjustment, boy? Acting all special and different
Why can’t he conform like all the rest?
Go home alone again, Johnny. No one sees you, no ones there to release you
Give our love to the family, hey. Funny, funny Johnny, Johnny on the side
I wonder where he picks it up. I wonder where he picks it up.
What is going on with Johnny Boy? He is here but really he isn’t
It’s like his mind is never at rest
Don’t seem scared of anything, that boy, and that makes me wary of him
Oh, what would turn a young man fearless?
Go home alone again, Johnny.
Circular
A breathy voice reserves the right
to whisper nothings you won’t like
Close enough so you can feel
his scratchy chin, his grinding teeth
Then, leaning back, his drinking hand
playfully on the table taps
The other resting in his lap,
oh, don’t you know, here sits The Man
His fingers could grip around your knee
and squeeze until you bite your tongue
How tiny, girl, that you now seem
and you can see he prefers them young
While paralyzed by the headlights
how simple, you think, it would be
To raise yourself, create a scene,
to bark the words that you would like
But in his gaze you’ve lost the skill
of moving from your own fee will
Malicious eyes inspect your skin,
angrily captures your sweet eyes
Though not perceiving what’s within,
grasping the chance that with you lies
Oh, Mister has a steady hand.
The palms are red and the backs are tanned
Oh, working hands are strong enough
and working hands can be mighty rough
And in a corner, frozen still,
where nobody but you can see
then Misters working hands are free
to discover as they like
But little girl, you’re not that small,
or you would not be here at all
You have a voice, you have a head,
although right now they seem quite dead
Have you leapt outside yourself?
A clever girl would never stay
to help a hunter catch his pray.
Are you still here or someplace else?
Well, the real danger here is not
the man who’s attention you’ve caught
The force that holds you here tonight
is that which lies within your own core
The enemy you should fight
is the Misters who’ve been there before.
© Sunniva Lind Høverstad 2012
I, Volatile 