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With High Regards


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Savages nobles we are born In a screaming mess, to mothers torn Bloody loafs of freedom then Passed into the grip of trained women They were schooled to clean us up Wrap us firmly, silent our shout Plug us into mommy's chest She will teach us, she will know what's best Our fathers are taxidermists Our mothers assistants To make us all pretty flasks to hold emptiness Which dress should I wear to the funeral of my soul? I've chosen this blank stare Does it fit my role? Sometimes we're the binders of our chains To our Abels, often, we're the Cains Will we rid our daughters of our pain Or spend our lives taking breaths in vain?
Hey Have you been listening to the radio Has it been playing any songs you know Or is it just mine that is broken? I Keep seeing people everywhere I roam Their step is firm, they know just where to go I bet their wishes aren't unspoken I've been biding my time for years now Seeds are sprouting, I watch, but don't plough I know what, somewhere I lost how Could this be all I am? My feet are set to "stand still" I forgot where I keep the manual Is there some way to repair without formatting? I don't recall ever reading or agreeing to these terms of use When you see the grave I dug up for myself you will hire me as your undertaker
Time to grow time to build on your feet now These buildings are small The sky hangs dangerously close Glooming into us Our minds as narrow as our curbs It would be smarter to stay down when the shit hits the fan But I am going to be around I have seen bricks stretch out for miles Roofs that cut sharp the tissue of clouds This ends right here Waters will be dirty Waters will be grey Everywhere you turn They will run downstream It's the bridging that counts
I thought when I was sixteen I was at the peak of spleen Oh, how I was unaware – I was yet to go Baudelaire It appears the pharaoh buried in this vault Died poor as a sparrow or my methods are at fault For through all my picking, not an ounce of gold Only screaming, kicking worms of remorse and mold Je suis un vieux boudoir Mais, fanée ou non, Je suis jamais la rose Jamais la rose.
All naked is not free And freedom wasn't made So why do men think it was made for them? Vibrations echoing in empty halls, asleep If a tree falls in distant woods… Cast a shadow so thick the ground is merely a memory Dispersed in the air Step outside of my Self, all borders are erased (all objects are embraced) Hell of Other introjected If a dawn should arise, it will compartmenalize But it will wake away the dream These days, entangled and macabre They have let in some space for light Outside of the fort it's vast and cold and as far as the eye can see No one is around.
A January morning quite plainly arose He saw in the street a French boy blow his nose To skip school for illness, the garçon now chose His mother insisted: "C'est pas grande chose!" He smiled as he rode by, not envying the kid Who was a schoolday away from closing his lid He had this job to finish and once he did To driving for money, farewell he would bid It was his last task to deliver spices Ground up and packed by various devices He'd worked for years at affordable prices And now, at long last, his budget suffices He'd saved up his wages to go on a trip For him and his brother he'd booked a sailship They'd cruise the Gibraltar and eat salsa dip On the Côte d'Azur they'd pretend to be hip The turn of events which followed is blurry Daydreaming numbed his caution, so he hurried A sudden impact made him stop and worry And these are the last words he said to the jury: "The trunk door, it opened when I hit the break The spices flew out, what a mess it did make As I looked down, I felt my very core shake The scene was a nightmare from which I never wake The smell of basil and parsley slowly spread As on the curb an old man to his death bled A branch of rosemary landed on his head my brother took a sniff then shut his eyes, dead."
There once was a man of strange allure He caught a disease without a cure No shot, no syrup, not a pill Could put to death his constant chill As a result of this He was forced to dismiss Medicine of the west Make do as he knew best He put to work his brain Studied well the domain He made complex designs But nothing came to mind Till an October night The answer, with winter's first bite, Came as if from above Downwards, dragging him along To keep his person warm In fire, wind or storm His body he would drape With coats tailored to his shape Rumour says he grew old Still always feeling cold Though he became admired For his layered attire Till an October night Death creeped up with winter's first bite The mortician peeled all the coats off, Then he screamed Inside He'd found No one There once was a man of strange allure He caught a disease without a cure Ask yourself, reader, and be true This man - is he not you?
I will keep these rusted old chains For molecules remember interactions Although at times they pierce my skin They still are mine and I don't leave soldiers behind I will keep these rusted old chains For I was there when they were being welded And still today in the right light I clearly see that in fact they are golden I will keep these rusted chains I will carry just as much as I can Not a tad below It's what made me grow I won't tear the pages of my past tense lessons It's what made me strong
So I fired my engines Shot off into the dots they calls "the stars" According to calculations The universe was waiting just for me Well, as it turns out – it was not And the dominating color is black The goggles really do nothing Houston and I have a date tonight Today is the day I can safely say (I'll swear if I may) I am lost as fuck. I've never been a master in the matters of space Yet, I abhorr directions...guess I am quite a catch? With each passing day it becomes more clear That life is indeed much larger than me So it seems fit to do my best And try to be a bigger man
If I ever live to see it I'll train myself to become A changeling, a shifter of shapes Just to send this message through Once that I have it mastered I'll turn rigid and cold I'll form a circle, crystalize Just to send this message through I'll transform into a mirror sharp and true I'll display an image so unique Queens and thieves will crave a piece of me Scientists will dream of my debris But once the battle ends and I am scattered around Each picks up his fragment and holds it to his face Oh my, what a surprise they'll find when I reflect their own malice For the beauty in me was you


Croatians CRIPPLE AND CASINO base their sound upon the rich legacy of American independent rock, with influences ranging from Sonic Youth to Jawbox and Girls Against Boys, to name a few. However, they're not the ones to wear these influences on their sleeve as they've developed a very unique sound of their own, and «With High Regards» is a prime example of that. Noisy post punk aesthetics is obvious - half-spoken, half-shouted and half-sung female vocals, a strong blend of caustic, angular riffing around rumbling bass lines and plenty of spacious rhythm breaks. Kinda like their friends Analena. The ten songs on this album act as little stories with abstract yet spot-on and thought-out lyrics, backed by noisy, dischordant and loud music. A document of sophisticated audio violence, if you will.

Second Cripple And Casino album "With High Regards" is a fruit of collaboration between Moonlee Records and Radio Is Down, who are responsible for 12“ vinyl. It will also be available on tape through Disposable America.


released February 12, 2013


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