If I Hadn't Become An Artist And A Musician I Would Have Been A Serial Killer Or Killed Myself

by Ashley Reaks

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released May 29, 2016

Ashley Reaks - Vocals and all other instrumentation
Maria Jardardottir - Vocals
Lucy Mizen - Vocals
Dave Kemp - Saxophones, Penny Whistle
Frank Mizen - Trombone on 'Smelly Bobby Tulip'
Nick Dunne - Guitar solo on 'Billy Goat Hill'

All songs written by Ashley Reaks

Recorded by Dan Mizen at Active Audio Studios in Harrogate 2015/2016



all rights reserved


Ashley Reaks London, UK

Genre-hopping musician and collage artist.

"an incomparable talent and a true original, a man who often borders on genius" - Louder Than War (UK)

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Track Name: Mr Death Is Dead
Injecting amphetamines 24/7
From the moment he was born he was never going to heaven
Born from bad stock, Mad Dog’s the big brother
Mullet, bullet belt, bad ‘tache and Dunlop Volley Runners

Sheila was a dealer and a fizz gig who went behind his back
Stopped her cheating heart from beating with a hot-shot of smack
Cut her body up and put the pieces in a wheelbarrow
Sneaked behind his house and tipped her in the River Yarra

Cruising round Cremorne in his gold chrome Chevy
Six-shooter on the front seat, the back’s full of heavies
Made a million plus at just 20 years old
Selling heroin and paranoia through a glory hole

Pieces of his heart snapped off and fell into his chest
Policemen packed round his death-bed pressing him to confess
Pig punks picking king-size chunks from his festering flesh
Mad Dog Dave took his secrets to the grave
May his soul be at rest
Track Name: Tweed Creeper
Stuck with her newborn babe in the bedroom
in the old house at the back of the moon
She’d seen him first as he swam in the pool
100 lengths a day that was his rule
Chew-Chew-Chewbacca face

I can tell by the way they walk, tell by the look in their eyes,
I can tell by the way they tilt their heads
I can tell by the way they walk, tell by the look in their eyes,
I can tell that they’re gonna wind up dead
Biting in Madeleine bringing back memories
Track Name: Bitsa Maniac
The kaleidoscopic splatter of an old man’s blood
Bits of brain matter trodden down in the mud
Lost souls scattered skin-deep in the woods
Innocence shattered in the neighborhood
You are in my power now
Elm Street exists in every town
Hidden in the storm drains deep underground
In the sewers where he threw his sad victims down
I’d like to live in Mexico now that they’ve made Moscow no-go
Life without murder’s like life without breathing
Track Name: Smelly Bobby Tulip
Smelly Bobby Tulip born without a heart
Smelly Bobby Tulip social misfit
Smelly Bobby Tulip rotten from the start
Smelly Bobby Tulip he don’t take no shit
Daddy dropped him on the doorstep
of a children’s home on the edge of town
Baby Bobby learned the basics
of being knocked up and knocked around
Soon he started self-abusing
to survive the lonely nights
Shoving candles up his anus
table legs and metal pipes
It’s the hole that fascinates
Track Name: The Folsom Wolf
Howling at the moon
growling out of tune
stinking up the room
Always on his jack
eyeing up the crack
rehearsing every detail of the imminent attack
As a teen his loose mother seduced him
shot him up with gear
bulldozed her way into his psychic hole
and watched him disappear
‘Corinna, Corinna, where have you gone?
Corinna, Corrina, where have you been so long?’
Hunting on the plains
scanning the terrain
he needs to kill again
Leader of the pack
marking out the track
picking out the perfect route to bring the bodies back
When she was young her cold mother wouldn’t hold her
a stranger from the start
she’s got swastikas tattooed on both shoulders
a deadlock on her heart
Track Name: Don't Sit For the Doodler
Don’t sit for The Doodler when The Doodler comes to town
Don’t sit for The Doodler when show-time comes around
Don’t sit for The Doodler in his low-rent studio
Don’t sit for The Doodler he ain’t never gonna let you go
Hanging at Finnochio’s
deep in the Tenderloin
sipping Pink Lemonade
picking up the rough trade
waiting round for the late night show
Doodler was a brand new face
on the sado-masochistic scene
hid his sexual rage in black leather and chains
Dancing to the ‘Midnight Band’
cackling at the cabaret
drink and drugging till dawn
what a time to be born
in this Pre –Aids Wonderland
The hunter and the hunted met
at ‘Cheek-To Cheek’ and ‘After Dark’
cheap shots, cheap sex, followed by a cheap death
Track Name: Birdy's Got The Black Dog
Birdy’s got the black dog
like a tiger in a cage
in the murderous fog
There’s gonna be a rampage
Tiptoeing up the stairs
paranoid eyes ablaze
caught his brother unawares
before he shot him in the face
When the next day came
got everybody running scared
everybody knew his name
now everyone cared
He was someone
famous far and famous wide
there’s nowhere left to run
there’s nowhere left to hide
Don’t call me dumb, don’t call me Dum-Dum’
It’s just my heart and soul are kind of numb
Don’t call me dumb, don’t call me dum-dum
just making up for the humiliation
Track Name: Billy Goat Hill
I found my thrill on Billy Goat Hill
Going in for the kill on Billy Goat Hill
My own free will on Billy Goat Hill
Time stood still on Billy Goat Hill
She was found in her nightgown
underneath four tyres
her young body lying face down
on the funeral pyre
stabbed in a furious frenzy
soaked in gasoline
She was found in her nightgown
underneath four tyres
I had my fill on Billy Goat Hill
Fresh blood’s gonna spill on Billy Goat Hill
I gave the Devil my bill on Billy Goat Hill
Pure overkill on Billy Goat Hill
Track Name: Fur Coats Hunter
Fur Coats Hunter hunting is his game
Fur Coats Hunter every day the same
Fur Coats Hunter growing ever wearier
Fur Coats Hunter from Siberia
He’s only happy when it’s cold
goose-stepping in the snow
to where he doesn’t know
searching for his soul
Rebel revolutionary yearning to be free
He cuts the poison at the roots
in army gloves and army boots
and military fatigues
he’s serial killer premier league
Nihilistic nobody Russian refugee
rebel revolutionary yearning to be free