Extended EP

by Moogieman

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Check out the video for Economy Of Love: vimeo.com/91669591


released July 3, 2014

Written, performed and produced by Moogieman, with Vincent Lynch on drums.



all rights reserved


Moogieman UK

Psychedelic geek-core pop - short numbers about space, fruit and lofi cameras. Latest video: vimeo.com/161701628
For live performances, Moogieman is joined by his backing band The Masochists.

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Track Name: Economy Of Love
There is no recognised medium of exchange
That allows society to arrange
Affairs of the heart.
So lets make a start.
Come on!

Lets create a brand new currency
That will maximise efficiency
Of romantic transactions.
Lets end this inaction.
Come on!

We just need something fungible and liquid
That allows interested parties to make their bids.
Like we never did.

We need an invisible hand
To match supply with demand.
So we’ll take these dismal sciences
And we’ll build beautiful alliances
Across this land.

Economy of love ...

But what use is this economy
When you’re clearly the only girl for me?
There’s no other combination
That will meet our aspirations.
So come on!
Come on!
Come on!
Track Name: Skylab
High above the clouds, there’s no rest up here in space.
The tasks just never end but mission control ramps up the pace.
So you can take your job and shove it up the dark side of the moon.
Cause we're not starting work again here anytime soon,

On Skylab ...

Flying round the earth, fifteen sunsets every day.
And you could get ideas, seeing time just fly away.
Can't even get a decent shaving mirror so we'll all grow beards like hippies.
Chasing peanuts round the cabin makes you rethink your priorities,

On Skylab ...

It's funny how things can turn sour when you're travelling at seventeen-thousand miles per hour.
Two hundred and seventy miles above the earth, that's when you start to find out what you're really worth
No matter how many billion dollars it took to get us here.
We're just specs of atoms drifting in this vast and cosmic sphere,
up here

On skylab ...
Track Name: Diana
My Diana
Has a quirky kind of manner
And I'm really quite enamoured
With her moulded plastic glamour.
She’s the only one for me
When it comes to photography.

My Diana
Has a flexible demeanour.
With a screwdriver and spanner
I can alter her parameters
And turn her cryptic gaze
Into a dreamy soft-focus haze.

She is my moon that captures the sun.
And with her the search is never done
The perpetual hunt for the perfect picture.
The process always remains obscure.
She has the power to transform
Beauty and corruption
Into their opposite forms.

And I'm thinking of getting into cross-processing.
A new life of crazy colour is beckoning.
Her arrangement of light and of space
Makes the world a better place.
Track Name: MP3 (Marine Peilstand Drei)
We embraced in the embrasure
Of the German fire direction post
And you looked like a heavenly ghost
In the pale green light of my wind-up torch.

We kissed in the concrete casement
For a 105 mil gun and you looked pretty stunned.
Enfiladed by the moon on the wave crests,
Your hair shone like an angel’s nest.

We made out in a minefield,
Fucked in a Flak battery.
But we argued in an armoured cupola.
Then you sulked in a searchlight shelter by the sea.

You said that things couldn’t go on
In a resistance nest up at Fort Clonque.
And you looked like you’d seen an apparition
But I said there was more to life than defensive positions.
Track Name: When We Vicariously Touch
When we vicariously touch
Sometimes it's too much.
It really is too much.

When we vicariously touch
Sometimes it's too much.
It really is too much.

When we vicariously touch
There’s a curious tribology
Creating electricity
That flows through you and me,
Flows through you and me.

When we vicariously touch
Through a lead-acid battery
There’s a spasmic energy
That flows through you and me,
Flows through you and me.

An electrostatic influence
With a strength that makes no sense.
A Coulomb attraction so large
There's an involuntary discharge.
Maybe cause you’re grounded
And I’m constantly confounded.
So now when we touch,
We do it in a Faraday cage.
Now they’re all the rage.

When we vicariously touch
Through a Van de Graff generator
You light up like an incinerator.
Sparks fly through the air.
Smell your burning hair.

When we vicariously touch
Sometimes it's too much,
It really is too much.
Track Name: No More Flowers Or Dreamy Hours
Breaking up is easy to do when you’re a psychopath.
You can do it with a smile, you can do it with a laugh when you're a psychopath.
And the girl who was never lost for words
Sits in deathly silence, see how much it hurts.
But you only feel equanimity
As your mind calculates the possibilities
And you pen this heartfelt composition
That will propel you to worldwide recognition
And will make you irresistible.

Psychopathic tendencies ...

Breaking up is easy to do when you're a psychopath.
No more flowers or dreamy hours when you're a psychopath,
Track Name: The Apostate Priest Of The PDP-11
It was 2003
And I had the winning entry
In the international code contest for obfuscated C.

I was so sexy.
I was a coding celebrity.
And the girls they were all over me.
Wanted to hear me talk obfuscated C.
I was so sexy.

I was researching unsolved problems in obsolete computing.
They called me the retro raster-blasting Rasputin,
The mad monk of the Minivac 607,
The apostate priest of the PDP 11.

But the judges found a bug in line 23.
Whoever put it there, it wasn't me.
Cause I always write my code perfectly
But a man like me’s got many enemies.

I was all at sea.
Cast out, put down, no one wants to know me.
No more girls no more parties.
Was persona non grata with the technorati.
I was all at sea ... I was ... destroyed.