Get all 229 Fyrce Muons releases available on Bandcamp and save 90%.
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1. |
Crack
08:15
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We’ll wait on time
Send a patient rhyme
Little late should cry
Why don’t you be coming down down
With a life
With a reach of gates
Halloween we’ll make
When I hear you say you don’t know in the reach of days
With a bitch of kind
Strap it in your mind
Well won’t you wait all life in hell said rare mind
Well came all ties
You told me lies
Cross on the weeds
Upon his anger and his wine
Can abide my way
Step on my fate
Cross under bridges in the haze of days
Kumbaya hate
Kumbaya hate
We’ll starve a man
Is going to feel in a manger hate
Real in mine away
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2. |
Dead
05:08
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Walls that we read
Stones that we throw
Reeds that we wind
Walls that we throw
In nines, catching fire in nines
In fives, catching fire in fives
Cold winter dreams
Bang on my drums
Steal low so temperature
Cold in my dreams
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3. |
Grace
05:39
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In a wisdom
In a shining of a beast of care
Wrap around is something you don’t know and fear
Taking cues from others who have never been there before either
Dripping with sensitive stiletto beliefs on puffs of air
Boiling royals from a Medieval treatise on death
Sins of fathers, sins of mothers
Converge upon the fangs as we look forward to what might be
What has been
What could happen
Take yourself out of the loop my friends
Take yourself there and let go
Walk towards it
Walk quickly
Don’t look back
It’s the symbol of grace
No longer calling out his name you labor deeply
Breathing shallow one minute
Then gasping for life, unconscious the next
Hands twitch and twist without reason and without ceremony
Your feet are swollen and yellow with grace anticipation
Will you be allowed entry or must you wait another cold night
Will death come knocking now
Or later unexpectedly it knock at the door
What becomes
What pretends
What is
What is not
What is safe
What is danger
What is real
What is not
What is truth
What is not
What was now and then and ever more
It’s the symbol of grace
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4. |
Indian
05:18
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In a wisdom
In a shining of a beast of care
Wrap around is something you don’t know and fear
Taking cues from others who have never been there before either
Dripping with sensitive stiletto beliefs on puffs of air
Boiling royals from a Medieval treatise on death
Sins of fathers, sins of mothers
Converge upon the fangs as we look forward to what might be
What has been
What could happen
Take yourself out of the loop my friends
Take yourself there and let go
Walk towards it
Walk quickly
Don’t look back
It’s the symbol of grace
No longer calling out his name you labor deeply
Breathing shallow one minute
Then gasping for life, unconscious the next
Hands twitch and twist without reason and without ceremony
Your feet are swollen and yellow with grace anticipation
Will you be allowed entry or must you wait another cold night
Will death come knocking now
Or later unexpectedly it knock at the door
What becomes
What pretends
What is
What is not
What is safe
What is danger
What is real
What is not
What is truth
What is not
What was now and then and ever more
It’s the symbol of grace
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5. |
Moab
03:05
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You will go home
You hear the harps and mandolins
Your precious bones to rest among the dandelions
You will see friends there with cloaks of white and time to spare
You will go home
At least that’s what I want for you
You’re going home
Your mortal life is over now under a stone
An address in a parking lot you rest in box now
With cloak of white and time to spare
Your life is gone
There is no one to comfort you
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6. |
Reeds
04:53
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You will go home
You hear the harps and mandolins
Your precious bones to rest among the dandelions
You will see friends there with cloaks of white and time to spare
You will go home
At least that’s what I want for you
You’re going home
Your mortal life is over now under a stone
An address in a parking lot you rest in box now
With cloak of white and time to spare
Your life is gone
There is no one to comfort you
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7. |
Sharp
06:33
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Hail to you Gods on the day of reckoning
Behold me
I’ve come to you without sin
Without guilt
Without evil
Without a witness against me
Without one who I have wronged
Pure of mouth
Pure of hands
Pure of feet
Pure of guilt
Life in window panes
You will look at me
My utterance is mighty
I am more powerful than the ghosts
May they have no power over me
The world is always chaos but we pretend that it’s not
Each one of you has created a sense of self
That’s what the total does
When we go to the desert it’s pure, not wall
There you witness stupendous and incredible acts of power
The deeper side of study occurs on your attention
It is the pure power of death
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8. |
Splice
05:16
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The night goes down
Fields of clowns
Seconds of snakes
A field is around a misery season of holy rollers
Fight the clowns
A gesture of angels
A torpor fought will step so slow
A devil’s horns
A packet of widows
As earwigs claw into your brain
It lays it’s eggs inside your skull
The creep of death is on your door
He raises his scythe
You live no more
The sins of being to testify
The spreadsheet’s in
For this you die
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9. |
Stones
03:41
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Heaven scents all over
Matter is gold
Reach out and seek it
Seek out the essence of pain
Final of answers
Final destination of grace
Stones
Find that you’re wanting peaceful alone
Wait for the symbols
Wait for the stones
Dying is easy
Dying is leaving alone
Stones
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10. |
Thorns
07:35
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Break my bones
Break my fingers anytime
Take me home
Take my sinner’s twist as twine
Save my skin
Save it all around in time
Take my soul
Sin the lovely hour in time
Catch all light
Catch it like a firefly
Beast of trying
Kevlar is a serpentine
Feast of doom
Gnashing of a purpose feed
Feast of light
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11. |
Wash
05:23
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We’re leaving on another journey
Forgiven all the things you did
Misbehaving is not the only bad there
But love will wash away your sins
Wash away
Peoples of the world rejoicing
Can feel them not so far away
Sharp thanks never broke a window
Feel gone but never gone away
Wash away
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Fyrce Muons San Diego, California
Forty five years of gothic space punk and electro pop reminiscent of Krautrock. Fyrce Muons continue to defy any musical genre with their provocative concept albums, improvisational and surrealistic spoken word.
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