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Ceiling Demons - Mendacity (2013): Filmed and edited by James Bird Vocals by Psy Ceiling and Dan Demon Production by Beat Demon and Euan Kearney Recorded at Greenman Swaler Studio Mixed and Mastered at Junction 9 Studios https://www.facebook.com/CeilingDemons https://twitter.com/CeilingDemons https://twitter.com/birdjames9 Lyrics: These hollow walls keep on swallowing me whole, Hearted and honest, cursed with answers. Scratches and Cancer. Like crabs we scatter away to the side, Given access or denied we try. I'm told to head towards the smell of gun powder, It's intoxicated aroma may make you wonder, In this fog you would only surrender, What doesn't kill you will make you stronger. What is out of sight is out of mind. Question why. Cycle of life, Cycle of time -- Born -- Die - Live - Survive. We aim towards the sky. Rip off your shirt and cry; Fuck the world! We are cold, heartless, killers... Waiting for that second phase, the evening's glaze. Another reflection, another suggestion. The consideration of our force of action, Searching blindly for a reaction, What's happening? Did we take the medicine that will stop the bleeding? The healing process freeing, our weights float to the ceiling, We're not gonna see them. Who's the angel? Who's the Demon? I am the only voice of reason. The choice of treason, Gunpowder, beating, white powder, sneezing, insides freezing. So fucking ill again. Let's meet our friends, to the bars. Love will tear us apart leaving us stitched up and scarred, still standing! Stagger forward into the moment, Try and hold it together, Everyone lives under the weather. Reflections on the water. I fucking hate myself when I'm sober. Don't shoot the messenger; just hide in the heather, Like the famous grouse we will Hunt ya! Scare ya! Kill ya! Keep your nerve, as we drift past ya, Ghost like, with a white flag willing to seize the fire. Trojan horse, this plot gets worse. Poisons are the best way to work the spirit into the dirt, Double-crossed and double shots; wretched words. Tainted minds, lead you to a coffin, a crime, Uncomfortable, you may want to spew, Lose all your contacts and then renew your lover and your addiction to the booze. I still couldn't choose, I still can't choose, But I'd happily spit out all of my truths, Wishful thinking is a weak point of view. A weak point of view. Stagger forward into the moment, Try and hold it together, Everyone lives under the weather. Reflections on the water. I fucking hate myself when I'm sober.