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The lyrics speak for themselves.

lyrics

You wake up of an afternoon, and wonder where you are.
You're tangled up in some stranger's sheets
and a record is on repeat
across the street… in an empty bar.

You put your clothes on, find the door and then it starts to rain.
You pull your hood above your head,
and you wonder what was said,
that led to bed… and back again.

Torn genes, from the leather queens, to the cowboys and the clones.
Torn genes, from some magazines, not just words, but sticks and stones.
Torn genes, like those darker dreams, that can chill you to the bone.
Torn genes, like a silent scream, then you're walking home alone… with your torn genes.

You wake up of an afternoon, and wonder where you are.
You're tangled up in some stranger's sheets
and a record is on repeat
across the street… in an empty bar.

Torn genes, from the leather queens, to the cowboys and the clones.
Torn genes, from some magazines, not just words, but sticks and stones.
Torn genes, like those darker dreams, that can chill you to the bone.
Torn genes, like a silent scream, then you're walking home alone… with your torn genes…

credits

from The Unplanned Obsolescence Of Thom Topham, released July 4, 2019
Playing, programming, vocals and production by Steve Swindells.

Words and music by Steve Swindells.

Photo of SS, Earl's Court 1980, by Robert Irving.

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Steve Swindells Bath, UK

For my bio see (and 'like' me please): www.facebook.com/SteveSwindellsMusic

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