Your head a rock
Your heart a hollow stone
Formaldehyde inside
The tiny bitter eyes you call your own
Automaton
Who switched you on?
Tick, tick, whir, and click
Your cyclic song
Fish for your hands
Cripple wheels your feet
A deathless stare proves no one’s there
And still breathlessly, I believe
Automaton
Who switched you on?
Tick, tick, whir, and click
Your cyclic song
…
Your burlesque soul
The gears beneath your robe
As much you whir, you’ll never be
You’ll just rust, you must corrode
Automaton
Who switched you on?
Tick, tick, whir, and click
Your
Tick, tick, whir, and
Tick, tick, whir, and click
Your cyclic song
L.A.'s Smokescreens recall the moment when post-punk transformed into indie pop on their David Kilgour-produced full-length. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 3, 2020
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