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For those of you who are still trying to work out whether Bob Marley really sang “We’ll be together… with a roofrack over our head!” or Hendrix opted for “’Excuse me while I kiss this guy,” here’s the transcript of Papillon from the Stemma album to pore through at your leisure.

You’re welcome.


Trying to pretend I’m on it
Far from it
Cheek on the toilet seat knees in a pool of vomit
Supersonic flashback on stage, did I rock it?
Is my brain moulded from the same stuff as Wallace and Gromit?
Can I write a sonnet lovelier than a summer’s day?
Or will it always be grey with any pen any page?
Ever been any stage in life lacking mistakes?
Or is this just the way I’m arranged and I’ll never change
I’m facing a different way trying hard to be the same
As him, her and you who never show any pain
But maybe they’re just pushing it down
Deep repression
Maybe it’s all gonna spill out in deeper sessions see aggression as release
Then again it’s a defeat if I
Can never seem to control this head of steam
I got demons in my dreams I could always seem to shake
Now it’s like they’re made flesh and I see ’em when I wake…

A thick smelling cloud of shit follows me round
Call me Pigpen, time’s overbearing like Big Ben
Lemme be your sick friend
We can slip into the night unnoticed, quite unfocused
Slide like ‘roaches
Hide behind sofas
If you ain’t ready for the world you might know this
You might recognise the patterns of behaviour
Fraternising with the darker side of your nature
Walking through the graveyard
Where broken hopes are scattered in decline and over time are made hard
Stay scarred from mistakes of the past
But the big clock wont stop, still stays fast
Can you break the chain?
Can you take what remains?
Can you pick up the pieces of all the bits that you needed
And separate all the shit that you hate or even delete it I’m

Waiting on the moment of change
Waiting on the moment of change
Redefine me and rearrange
Waiting on the moment of change

Goin’ mad in this this vacuum
Curled up in a cocoon but ain’t getting out anytime soon
Made my own purgatory
Tryin’a work a story seeing all these words before me
Turn ’em into verses surely
Sell the rights to my life, treat my pain like a product
Two pm, bruv I’m not up
Curtains are closed on my eyes and my windows
“Where the hell you been bro?”
Up to other things though
I ain’t been busy in a year
Matter fact I ain’t been anything but dizzy and unclear
My thoughts have turned sinister
Nothing’s going linear advice in my ears sounds tinnier and tinnier
Spark another cigarette
Tryin’a ignore the lump in my throat and the oncoming choke
Watch the smoke rings as they rise and disintegrate
Metaphor for my life, I just seen it late…

You ever get bored of yourself?
Hermit crab who gets bored of a shell
Where do you go when you hate what you look like
Never have a good night
Sleep feeling shook like
Something ominous is gonna push me in a corner sorta
Catch me up like karma, drama “listen mate I warned ya…
But your never heed my words…
See it hurts, and now you won’t know what is to be as free as birds
I’m the cage that enslaves you…
Keeps your neck in a noose
I’m the one who knows you better than you
Look to the horizon, see that fog?
That’s me, old man, you can call me the Black Dog
And when I’m back knocking on your door you should peep out
Scream at the top of your lungs, fucker keep out!
Scream loud as you wanna but I feed offa sorrow
Little Bitch I’ma re-turn tomorrow while you’re