Three Sided Coin - Kate Tempest, Kae Tempest

Retell the old tales\nRetail’s complete hell, we need some detail\nThat’s why I’ve been staring at the stem of this plant\nFor like the last day and a half, the last day and a half, the last\nNow the three sided coin buys the bow legged calf\nAnd we’ve been sucking out the milk\nFrom its mother’s teat incessantly\nSo come on, pump us full of nothingness\nAnd hear us sing the melody\nAnd watch us dance the thin line\nBetween the in thing and integrity\nVacuum-packed, shrink-wrapped, wartime spam-bots\nFollowing the stories of the day\nIn a hands-off, dandruff-in-your-sandwich kind of way\nInfinite distraction\nNow the distance between objects\nCan be measured out in fractions\nBut the distance between people\nIs a scale that we can’t balance\nWe’re frail, our hearts haven’t had time to try fathom\nThe scales of old dragons are nails in gold coffins\nThis island of England\nOh, England\nWe set out from this place\nFor murder and murder\nAnd then we squared it away like it did not occur\nNow when people are lost, they need people to join\nBut beware of the three-sided coin\nAnd when people are hurt, they need people to blame\nBut beware of the fear you can’t name\nI take the bins out, it’s raining\nThe kids are on the pavement with their hoods up\nWaiting for buses\nAnd on the radio, someone’s complaining\nSaying until now, they never discussed it in public\nSame thing as yesterday\nCareful with the hot tap, cold to burning in a second\nClothes on, stare in the mirror\nAware of the process of life slipping out of the eyes\nDeodorize\nMentholated paste on the bristles\nScrub the enamel, now shoelace\nHands like somebody else’s\nWhere are the hands from before?\nI was 10 years old once\nLife got quiet last night\nStation platform\nCoffee from the man in the hut with the stutter\nI see a friend from school, but we ignore one another\nI flick through the papers instead\nAching legs, pounding head\nI can’t wait for the weekend\nI’m staying in bed\nIn the mouth of a breaking wave\nIn the mouth of a breaking storm\nShaken, thinking something is coming\nThe sky’s an unusual colour\nThe weather is doing unusual things\nAnd our leaders aren’t even pretending not to be demons\nSo where is the good heart to go but inwards?\nWhy not lock all the doors and bolt all the windows?\nAll I am are my doubts and suspicions\nI against you against we against them\nThis is how it begins\nAnd this is how it will end