We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Nostalgic For​.​.​.​.

from The Land by The Wind-up Birds

/

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      £1 GBP

     

  • Buy the Full Digital Album

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Get The Wind-up Birds debut album on a limited edition CD. Its got a nice gatefold sleeve and includes a lyric sheet.

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Land via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      £8 GBP or more 

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    16
    releases

    Get all 16 The Wind-up Birds releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of "Pop.Thinking", Bar Sadness (with added RacketBall), Summer Haunts, Desire Paths, The Right, Poor Music, The Gristle, Acting Thick for Money (volume 2), and 8 more. , and , .

    Purchasable with gift card

      £27.48 GBP or more (30% OFF)

     

lyrics

Yeah so I got off bus at terminus with a vague plan to go back and at least have a look at what’s changed. I cut through what used to be wasteland but is now one of these landscaped brick/bench nothing spaces. I remember that there used to be two massive concrete slabs here and I fell off one of them once taking a shortcut home. I went sprawling with my schoolbag, twatted all my leg up and my bag landed in dogshit. I see the dogshit’s still here. Not the same one obviously. So anyway right, I go up the alley with the mad echo after that. If you kicked a ball at the wall it sounded mental. It must have been annoying for people who lived in the houses though. Anyway, round corner from there is the yard of the place I came to see. Its all overgrown and stuffed with burnt and melted plastic garden toys. So I go passed the bin shed with the broken lock and the smell of dead animals and then I’m stood at the door which must have been recently repainted by the council. Its at this stage I bottle it. Instead I think I’ll check out my old house. I cut through a carpark and hop over a petrol puddle with a doll’s arm sticking out of it. I go passed a bowling club where I fell off the roof. I was just mucking about but I still get pain now. Its funny that I think of injuries first. Maybe the pain in my bones is calling me home. I’m at the house but I can barely look at it. I turn instead to stare at the houses across the road. There was one with a girl who used to ring my house and hang up all the time. She’d peek out of the Venetian blinds to see what my reaction would be. I wonder where she is now.

It was an open house. It was a mouth washed out with soap. Picking bits off the floor was the most basic punishment. You’d quickly find the weak one in that situation and you don’t let them forget it apart from when it suits you. A top lip caked in snot but he was the favourite. So cut up his bacon into baby bite pieces. The food was awful. A lifelong bad stomach. Dirt from a chipped cup grinds under your nails. A teen with Down’s Syndrome gets cracked round the head. It all seems normal, par for the course. An old stroke victim, stashed in a corner, never moving except the smoke from his pipe. A dog, standard vicious, with his teeth in a kneecap. That’s gonna scar. Don’t come crying to me. Through badly hung curtains and out of the window, just endless nettles receiving the rain. A baby crawling without a nappy, grabs a sharp something. No one’s that bothered. Accused of lying. Bend an arm right up the back ‘til you hear the snap. Get the medicine for the special son. Looks like he’s hitting himself again. Watching a tantrum with fingers in ears. Try to pretend you’re at the seaside. She hides her sweets right up her sleeves. Draw on your jeans for something to do. Some stolen matches. Lets set fire to something then stand in the corner of the room. Sat right up to the TV. Someone is crying. There is sick on the carpet that’ll never be cleaned. That kid has shat himself. He’s just kneeling there, pushing a car between peoples feet. There’s two Asian children. You can say what you like to them cos that’s what all the adults do. Grass someone up for swearing or something. Watch them get a clout. Better them than you...and you wonder why I’m so fucked up...ha! Alright then, some nice bits...no soz, I can’t think of any. Why don’t you watch one of those cheapo nostalgic programmes, with lists of funny childhood things remembered by twats, if that’s what you want? There’s none of that here. That’s not what I’m selling. They wouldn’t ask me on those programmes anyway. Not that I’m famous or owt, Im just saying I wouldn’t go on one anyway. You can hold me to that. Yeah. Cheers. Cheers. Thanks. Ta. Sorry. Soz. Sorry. Soz. Sorry. Ha! Yeah, my stomach is hurting. I’m knocking back tablets. I think tummy ache did for Kurt Cobain. That and easy access to drugs and fire arms. I’m gonna get off in a minute. I’ve been hanging around here too long. Sorry for moaning but you kind of asked for it. Well, that’s what I reckon anyway. Soz. Don’t ever go back.

Don’t ever go back.

credits

from The Land, released May 14, 2012

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

The Wind-up Birds image

The Wind-up Birds Leeds

New EP - "Pop. Thinking" is out now.


More gigs on the way as well.

shows

contact / help

Contact The Wind-up Birds

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this track or account

If you like The Wind-up Birds, you may also like:

Bandcamp Daily  your guide to the world of Bandcamp

On Bandcamp Radio

Saxophonist Isaiah Collier chats about his new LP and the influence of Pharoah Sanders.
listen now