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Kill The Emperor

from The World Is Yours by Pale People

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lyrics

I hope that when you were younger you fell
And you split your head open and howled like hell
And the cut was as deep
As the scar on the Liberty Bell

I hope your grey matter sputtered out warm
And you watched yourself spilling and forfeiting form
And you'd never felt this kind of pain
Since the night you were born

I hope you felt terror
I hope you healed poorly
I hope you missed what was missing
And dreamed of it
Seeping down into the road

I hope you still wake up hurting
And I hope you feel lonely
I hope your bedsheets
Are stained with your sufferings
None of which you can decode

The Emperor spits hurricanes from his lips
White and bellowing over the sea—wrecking ships—
Laying waste to proud nations
And summoning the final eclipse

He calls for his children to lick up the sweat
From his frame as he straddles a white parapet
Gazing over his fields
Feeling nothing resembling regret

And he screams out his hunger
And his daughters provide him
Bloody birds with coarse feathers
That twist in his throat
As he swallows them whole one by one

The girls cradle his belly
And the boys kneel beside him
Lay their hands on his breast
As he breathes loud and ragged
And sickens them under the sun

I hope that when you were younger you schemed
You would conquer the castle of which you had dreamed
And it seemed like a place
Where these people could hear what you screamed

credits

from The World Is Yours, released October 1, 2017
Mack Gilcrest - Piano, Vocals, Organ, Toy Xylophone
Austin Graef - Drums
Kurt Skrivseth - Bass, Electric Guitar
Produced by Kurt Skrivseth
Mastered by Jason Suko at South Sound Sound - Seattle
Lyrics by Mack Gilcrest
Music by Pale People
Copyright © 2017 Pale People Music All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized Copying, Reproduction, Hiring, Lending, Public Performance and Broadcasting Prohibited. Made in the U.S.

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Pale People Missoula, montana

Missoula, MT’s worst-kept secret.
An eccentric piano-rock quartet with a varied oeuvre, from soft confessionals to howling rants about the lonely and insane.
Better than sex. Cheaper than therapy.

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