by Bayoné

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This is available from Quiet City Records on 7". Recorded by Smokey Joe Clayton. Artwork by Cassandra Frances.


released November 15, 2012



all rights reserved


Bayoné Sheffield, UK


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Track Name: Prayer
Luca said
you could pave your way to paris,
with the combined t-shirt length in this place.
Then you just got up and left.
You didn't even say goodbye.
I ain't seen you in months.

Move up, move on, stay strong.

You're no Kinsella Fella

It's like the city's hollowed out my chest cuz my heart ain't in it no more,
and the 7/7's thinned my blood, i'm not asking you to be the saint you are.

Push the skin back and let my teeth roll,
I havn't tasted air since you grew old,
We're school boy choirs at heart.

The whiskey dog has let us down,
so i'll ride you grandfathers bike through my hometown.

Won't you join me in prayer,
that the land is starved like i to my friends,
When i swim to the fatherland i keep my chin up,
When i cut my legs off i sew 'em up, the only way i know.
And does it make you proud?
to know that i am only you with less years under my belt?
Track Name: Lungs
We're a dying breed,
(i'm the) last local in my family,
this whole crowd around me's from out of town it's the borderlines that make 'em foreign.
Our lungs are leatherbound,
Our bones are hollow.
I told you to save your money, your skin, do your time, though i know you wont.
Though i know you like a brother, like a son to a mother.
I told you to get the fuck out of this town, though i know you won't.
Through my cocain teeth, i wasn't born with these.
Dior, what do you do all day long?
Your money is man made though i'd call it honest, sense has called it's last day.