Skorch Turth

by The Wild Stares

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    12 song vinyl LP originally released it 1987. 12" 33 RPM with lyrics insert.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Skorch Turth via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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PIECE OF THE PICTURE How many times mast you get 250 heart Stokes before you realize I meant what salt-that I not like you? Sack again, left: acain right again, frost again, suddenly se that I rinsing rount in circles trying to do the things want me to/1ast wast a piece of the action- Just want a piece of the pictured try to tell you this and I try to tell you that and the plot ustales en my blood it thickers is all Teved dat in front of you?) could plain and You couldn't comprehend Where's the mystery in it? There's nothing left when you learn what you already View just keep getting her and richer touse ether piece of the pictare/o many times must I spit in your face before re derstand? Before yes realize I meant what 1 said? You're back again you're left again you're front gain you're right again-meter will you see rusting round in circles trying to to the things tell you to/ HA HA you go back to the Finish I'm taking back my place of the picture
LONESOME TIGER I'm a Toneson Tige/galing Teath the sky's a lonesome tiger at that big old skys 1a leesone and I dont know ised to get this feeling nge I feel that way against the theeeeliest soul, live the salast beast/l can run through the wilds/ross the ones one track/1 can eat so to 1 won't ever come back/Let me curse and let me fass/cause my tear is Seaking so I scream and 1 will ass and perme ww/and God himself will tear me but you know he den't talk back w lay down my head to rest m that lonesont track/her that train passes ty/carl see a faces inside/for stort is their tine and Fast is their ride/tw.rolet ne yell/Let me beat at ar treast/t's the lavesomest beast that has ever been tortion!' waiting for that train/that cat se bo a lense fios whose time is all through.
I WAS BORN THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED It used to be that everybody had an are to grind but then it sang back hard to the masters got decapitated And we were left with fragments or just small milated to adless wonders/calling out their o Card eroties/that they are the backbone of some extinct get great sea mamitrying to keep the Joe bld beast alive/except that I was bere the dar the music diet/The air swirls 'round witt dring rath and shoots like sparks or rockets/serding ars of delight igeoning ry path they see/crawling out of factores,hes/gas sig and immer trans that Futter in the darkness/ti 're ugly as you feel and there's nothing to compare is to but stupid useless pride/oncept that I was born the day the basic ded/50 letre rasa glass to the 5 s/and all the twisted shards of car and replate/that left our bonnie vad vision/Ting er steve/74's Jestike paybe. sancon Jace the rsp of fate with cyanide/except that I was bore the day the music died,
HALF HOLLOW HILL Written by Justin Burrill (Crabble Duro, BMI) © 1987 all rights reserved From the half hollow hill resounds a silence We can't turn our backs because our blood runs black just like the veins in the hill just like our father's did And we'll always fight because it's it's like something that's owed it's like birthright From the half hollow hill there sounds a siren The creep of change, the march of time, progresses restless sweep can's brush us aside And we'll always fight like any good side Just like The United we will stand From the half hollow hill the cry goes out goes out as mournful sound and it's so cold is the morning as we stand in the line at the half hollow hill
SAOUND ALLE DOUBLE Give it a break/Everybody else is on vacation/bot I can't rest cause I got a ground rule couble and it's sniffing at my heels of and it thinks the way I think and it feels the way I'm feeling tangled up what a waste of to to in paradise what a drag/Everyone else is lary and they're sucking out in groves/except the two hearts padly sending, the one and the one that's best to in my grand cate doable/0s and as/Repeat repeat repeat repeat everything to rears Tater/Stamped across the culture ther it echors frm the Fills It's the sound of remorse you can taste in the water and you can read it in the galltr counterances of all ar friends/her all know how bat I've been/hat a bastard/Every tender thought is selfish I really don bere in the dirt with rea? It's a creepy kind of feeling when ros hate your own shad/tou're my ground re doublhat's the treble? You can face my falls
WE ARE THE GONE KIDS are the gore could stare back/tur 30llow spices/commencing to track/Psychotic memorabilia/can or compensate for the lack of He who were the gone kids/we stare back/Reduced to dots we were clicked out across the telegraph lines/Computer printos: ticker-fase parate/Precinct 5/Bulletin boards, ser land of checkout aisles, aby pres from the back panels ef tracks utich pass by say we can rev come hane/Santa Claus ( the supermarket/Uncle Fat/ ya look pretty wasted Kid-Want a lift cack? Are you hungry/Infant mortality would have been/wach better than this; Cut off/hacked ap/trancated/dimed obscured co.ects of Ad Man's target desire finish/only to the commercial cons home in the form of a public servise announcement/staring back across the breakfast tele/and buried alive, before which, the gore- kids cance/Constart deleria sexing crack/ cotter top/arbir bay k-stained finish sunrise attack is the case of we who were the gose kids STARE BACK
CAN'T WATCH YOU with your finger on the button and your lips ensconced in a smile/pou like week of dirty clattes in a pile/but the problem is/ already straightered sp in here once today/D/1 from actly just what's going or with right but I haven't got time to try and figure fa et and the fact remains/I can't watch you a more/So thanks but 110 Keep a mental snapshot of ree the way you used to be/before I exhausted my reserves of sympathy/The problem is I can't watch you any more.
RULES OF PLAY Nothing means anything/nothing meats anything and you're so stupid that you don't ist/ could kill you could murder you/Stick knife in and get no resistance/These are the reles the gase/Everything stays the same/11 foll the roles of play as described as YO/Life is stupid/Living is useless/living isn't something that you to as pucosse/Stupid cattle-motivated-shaking to the beat in a Nari death cap/These are the rules of the game/You always get what you ask for/1'11 follow the rules play and destroy you to These are the rates of the game/Everything stays the same follow the rules of play and kill you too.
THE EULF STREAM can't feel wygens/there stor ful of novocal rebut even the widest wolf, cear/needs a shelter from the wildest rain/st can feel rear flash dear/though restre pale and far wat is to be expected/It is to be denies het you ride on the gulf stream/Se... my needed someplace/here it was always safe and war ke the eye of every reedelike port in every star/But when I got back to the station/they'd blow it all w/And the wind blows hot and wet. Tike a giants breath/and there's a stillness the waller and as tired and scared to death are imor soned hereby lazy terrenists/and the wegitation stints as rots away and they've blour up all the buildings and they cant remember wh/and they've sarken the ferry that drifter in t The pull strean..
STARING EYES OF THE MAN ON MURDER TRAIN Written by Justin Burrill (Crabble Duro, BMI) © 1987 all rights reserved A trance is broken and a man falls to his knees It's a hallelujah revival down at the mission A murmur rises behind what we see A stick is stuck halfway down and out The agony must be elevating Hung on the wall... it's illuminating but back or down it will never move It's a knife and it's stuck-The staring eyes of the man on the murder train These things happen almost every day What is the motivation? A man is standing is standing in a suit on a train...they call his number right there What I saw I can't say for sure but I know I'll never forget the staring eyes of the man or the murder train It's a plot that goes high and far and wide that's what I read in the paper Now daggers hang above me as I sleep he stood so close to me and if it can touch him then it can touch me, too
AUNT MOLLY'S GHOST IS A TREE NO At Molly's ghost is a tere now/She tares tie back to the wind/She cracks and hews and splatters/She actes to get revenge/hast Holly's ghost is a tree rou/standing out on the plain/with all the other als lady trees/bending and black and bare/She used to be a malcen, but bitter was her cup/she gave ap or awaitin/and drank the forbidden cup/Mant Molly's ghosts a tree soulike her sister Diana top/so precious by the waters/which like her love flow/o Holly's crags and bristles/jost crea and wall in the wind/Aunt Holly runs with the old adr trees/neath the glas! sky and wind.
YOUR SECRET IS SAFE You did a good job making the world remain to unbent/You did a good job making the world and row 311 take care of youre- fortune stakes aut her place among the forgotten and every cherished thing is hidden safe/klong the ancient Roman roads/where a great things stand silent beneath the newly fallen snow/You did a good job maxing the worldAnd as descend to ancharted depths/1 feel my eyes opening, beginning to see/Surrounded by a sist on a fragrant be/some shapes are clearer row, familiar in Tase/As the moistered ashes consecrate this waking hear wish you were with no hero wish you were with me here/arning through the shade of the Evening shedding the trace of a half-bitter ward/but the things that we have carried past the batentie, past bricks and windowtranes, over dark can grape stearily laden wrth the cesidar of that firal sing/are ecked in the stillness of neory/stored for passagt/Your secret is safe with me.


released January 20, 2023

Steve Gregoropoulos - Vocals,Electric and Acoustic Guitars, Bass
Justin Burrill -Vocals, Guitars, Harmonica
Fran Miller - Vocals, Bass, Violins
Fred - Drums, Percussion, Noise

Recorded 1987 Active Sound - Larry Lesard, Engineer
Mixed 1987 at Downtown Recorders - Joe Cuneo, Engineer
Written and Arranged by The Wild Stares, Cover Photos Bev Dickinson
Produced by S. Gregoropoulos, except "Staring Eyes of the Man on the Murder Train" Produced by Justin Burrill


all rights reserved



The Wild Stares Los Angeles, California

“Inscrutable, dense, manic, bizarre, intense, aloof, schizophrenic,” once wrote Option Magazine.
The Wild Stares, formed in Boston, in 1979 by Justin Burrill and Steve Gregororpoulos, joined by Fran Miller Campbell toured Europe and the U.S. several times, releasing many recordings along the way and relocated to L.A in 1988 adding drummer Kyle C. Kyle before morphing into W.A.C.O. in 1993. ... more

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