AND NOW YOU TOO CAN SING ALONG!!!

Drawing upon real-life experience of a Victorian prison; 'Banged Up' is a grim, gritty and intense affair drawing upon my love of black metal with symphonic elements. The video is a collection of AI material courtesy of Runway ML GEN 2. Welcome to a darker era of Ben Sebastian....

Get your copy over at Bandcamp for less than a price of coffee or stream over on spotify, apple, deezer and many more streaming platforms!

[ Ссылка ]
For streaming and to follow me here, there and everywhere: www.linktr.ee/bensebastia

LYRICS:
Eleven at night I cross the wing
A guard gives me a cold unsympathetic grin
A bag of basic provisions and regret over my decisions
All I own as I stumble in
And oh my days what a Victorian malaise
A Sarcophagus of nothing which to spend my days
So grey and bleak, each day and week
In this cell I am bound to cry, eat, shit, and sleep
And if you're fucking lucky (BANGED UP)
you might get to walk around the yard (BANGED UP)
Or get a letter from your family
But don't count on it
No one really gives a fuck about you
And if you're fucking lucky (BANGED UP)
You won't get all your teeth kicked in (BANGED UP)
Get jugged out on the landing
But please don't count on it
You're only a number in prison
I share my cell with a man deranged
Furniture exploding as our fists exchange
In his delusions I'd become his wife who he put through a window
and beat into confusion after he promise he'd change
My muscles aching I took on a grave risk
I hit the cell bell hoping aid would come quite quick
But four hours passed, the guards could not be arsed
In this cell I am bound to bruise, eat, shit, and bleed
And if you're fucking lucky (BANGED UP)
You might get to walk around the yard (BANGED UP)
Or get a letter from your family
But don't count on it
No one really gives a fuck about you
And if you're fucking lucky (BANGED UP)
You wont be inclined to hang yourself (BANGED UP)
Swinging from the light fittings
But please don't count on it
It'll take them twelve hours to find you
I walked the wrong path, took the wrong turn
Oh my oh my will I ever learn
Will I even survive these coming days
And see the sunlight
And if you're fucking lucky (BANGED UP)
You might get to walk around the yard (BANGED UP)
Or get a letter from your family
But don't count on it
No one really gives a fuck about you
BANGED UP
BANGED UP
I sit on my bed and look out to the moon
I know that no-one will come visit me soon
A pigeon comes through, to shit on my plate
In all of the four corners the flies congregate
So desolate, date after date,
Dreams of outside as I meditate,
Wake, urinate, vegetative state,
Failings on which one can ruminate.
It's tense and inhospitable, an air unerringly formidable
Rubbing shoulders, playing chess with raucous unpredictable souls
Living in the shadows-of-men that have been
Charged with the unthinkable
Inexplicable acts and crimes unforgivable and
In this cell I am bound to cry, eat, shit, and sleep
And if you're fucking lucky (BANGED UP)
you might get to walk around the yard (BANGED UP)
Or get a letter from your family
But don't count on it
No one really gives a fuck about you
BANGED UP
BANGED UP
You're only a number in prison!

свернуть