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Come what may / Waiting to expire / Split EP

by THORTS & KADY STARLING

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1.
They think they know me from my fingerprints but i'm losing touch i can feel it slipping through my fists now i'd rather make a song then a fuss before i lose what i love, coz what i love, i love too much Im a full time derailed technician and part time insecurity guard my position, well you could never question my convictions but you best keep your distance coz this here is show and tell a documentation of what i'm faced with on a day to day basis enslaved in this mental hell this hole i've dug with false accusations and dramatizations that do nothing but repell a distant figure with his finger on this trigger shooting blanks but i'm bigger than that, go figure it out before you leave it too late and then your left alone they didn't build rome in a day, the same goes for this home that you made but could easily destroy brick by brick an outcome i'd avoid (at any cost) this is it thorts it's time we learnt from our mistakes i'm fine for money but im desperately in need of change Resuscitate me, please i'm begging you There ain't no bracelet on this wrist bitch bring me back to life Resuscitate me, please i'm begging you There ain't no bracelet on this wrist bring me back to life Resuscitate me, please i'm begging you There ain't no bracelet on this wrist bitch bring me back to life Resuscitate me, please i'm begging you There ain't no bracelet on this wrist bring me back to life
2.
st^rling: there ain't a way to say this that doesn't sound vulgar on a playlist, i thought about direction, but i changed it. infectious to my fingertips, like sisyphus, i fought against the force until the stress decayed the hypocrite. the more space, the more chase i gave to emptiness, i think you know the ways my body bends when i've neglected it. i'm glass shattered, past matter, if the past mattered, damn, i'm glad i had it, but it's spent; present dark static. dark static. if i'm awake now, i'm still confused and vacant, a vagrant enveloped by the plastic and the fakeness. game changers proceeded and progressed but left depressed, became a pawn left to haunt the checkerboarded decks. erect my limp figure, lymph lost long ago, the nymph lives on, and so the song plays a sombre note. my whole was hopeless. i told you back in '06. ceschi: some sought solace in a god-head. some found answers, then they lost them. life, it doesn't make sense often. we try our best before we get tossed in coffins. some sought solace in a god-head. some found answers, then they lost them. never figured out what's real. probably never will. thorts: Developed through hell, my self-centred self fell a long time ago. now i sit and write this sombre note. an honest bloke that never seems to learn, burnt by the same match then blazed and sat back. never lacked the ambition, it's sink or swim. i keep my ammunition close, hidden deep within. proposed to my best friend, rose from the garden in my right, and on my left be my wedding band. let him sing now, yet another song. the same lyrics from the last, i bet he got it wrong. yet again, lend a hand, yeh i did, but he severed it quick, this kid don't remember shit. angelic with his elephant wings, he sings develish hymns but don't believe in this jesus bitch. your weakness stinks. it wreaks of shit. ceschi: some sought solace in a god-head. some found answers, then they lost them. life, it doesn't make sense often. we try our best before we get tossed in coffins. some sought solace in a god-head. some found answers, then they lost them. never figured out what's real. probably never will. ceschi: bad heart baby, broken home son. slap my face to wake me, feeling so numb. life has tested me consistently since day one, failures have snowballed into mountains enemies climb to sight-see from. infected from the second i took my first breath. til i search for some positivity hidden beneath my chest. even if i never find it in the end, well i hope the hunt was valuable without gold or bloated heads. running from myself, no law can stop the constant chase the pleasure that comes from fighting for glory, that permanent bitter-sweet taste. those moments when everything gets blocked out of our minds and we finally find some solace and escape from the endless grind. though i'm mario travelling through these pipe-dreams, when life seems too frightening that the night screams with lightning, i'll turn on the lights and try my best to breathe, ya see? ceschi: some sought solace in a god-head. some found answers, then they lost them. life, it doesn't make sense often. we try our best before we get tossed in coffins. some sought solace in a god-head. some found answers, then they lost them. never figured out what's real. probably never will.
3.
thorts: most def, you're a child in a travelling man suit. with your thoughts now you awkwardly lay... moving forward never felt so uneasy, like each breath from my chest. (first i blamed it on the rai,n not the cigarettes and stress i complained,) making movies in my head, my directors chair is made up, but still thats where i slept in a way. where you toss and you turn out to not be the man that you wanted, now you struggle to face what you've become, she couldn't relate, look what you've done now, it aint a mistake (when it's made like a thousand time over), feeling sick in your brain like your dad when he's sober it pains me to think with this paintbrush, (the faintest touch of my reality is slipping away) down that river where those men fish, (but catch nothing but regrets and a clentched fist fucking insane) there's not much to say when you got no one to blame but yourself as you play and you dwell with this clay. zoen: frenchy french french
4.
Kady Starling:: When I ascended I was marked for death, I put a distance between my wings and lept. I put a cold shoulder directly to the dirt, I fit a fist through the fissure to defy the verve. I’m on a soul plane to unearth the grain, that inadvertently stole the only joy it gave... It saved me, the same way it shaped me. But goddam if the journey didn’t break me. We were slaving for a master we'd created and the faster we obeyed it, well the harder it degraded, til the plaster that replaced it was the masking on our faces, and the fading of the ancients was ingrained within our nature, see? It’s the sickness, white caustic in the system, the sanctum of the victims, disassociated witnesses. It’s the bliss fucking blistered in the misery, the agony and victory, misogynistic tyranny. Please! Oh, God, we’re weak. And so dumb that all we do is speak. I measure space by the time that it takes for the strange to awake and to devoid the human sub-state. And in my heart-ache I feel a flutter, some days the breadth of despair can ingest its own blood waste. From the tip to the other tip of emptiness, fear without the heaviness, lofted from the precipice... ...White caustic in my system... From the roots to the tree that they were livin’ in. A secret sin transcended by the victims to sow with tiny stitches the Garment that they withered in... ...White caustic in my system... From the roots to the tree that they were livin’ in. A secret sin transcended by the victims to sow with tiny stitches the Garment that they withered in... thorts: before i lept, i probably should have checked the depth. ingrained in my chain of commendable acts. i'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but blunt objects hurt more and they still leave you dead. you only die once, but you live everyday so you can try to make up for the fuck up's. and cover up those fault lines with make up, on your way to the family function. but first you need a family that functions and you're just there to make up the numbers. and im just here, to steer this wheel, keep my eyes on the road and keep your hands to ya self pity never looked pretty no matter how you dressed it up, i ain't playing dolls and i aint down for fisti-cuffs. me i'd rather roll in the dirt, get smashed a thousand times against the rocks until that shit doesnt hurt (anymore). now i'm ready explore my options, curve balls leave me stumped but thats the least of my problems. time to scrub that slate clean, now i love who's looking back at me. so far from that gene ridden factory of misguided information, now i find my sanctity in the form of perspiration. exploration for submissions, explinations for these symptoms and this sickness i've been living with... ...White caustic in my system... From the roots to the tree that they were livin’ in. A secret sin transcended by the victims to sow with tiny stitches the Garment that they withered in... ...White caustic in my system... From the roots to the tree that they were livin’ in. A secret sin transcended by the victims to sow with tiny stitches the Garment that they withered in...
5.
thorts: Let him swim with the jellyfish, let her dance with the devil she knows. partially vacant, marginally naked, she grows like pinnochio's nose. now they're waiting for changes, lost in the hope that time will kill the playlist. with their own bare hands they made this monster themselves, now it lives and it's ageless. with the fragrence of death he wages a war on his own path, (left) home in the city, what a pity this girl never onced laughed, (yet) they found one another, blissfuly egotistic, love was instant, they painted pictures with pain and instincts, tainted misfits. the bridge it's burnt to the ground, now there's no way out. and statistics show that you can't turn around. you did that before, don't dare look down, now you share your flaws in this mansion of clowns. they build you up just to knock you down, but you look so pretty when there's no one around. i pity this fool that you seem to have found. a shell of a person, the talk of the town. tommy v: don't let me slip away. i seem to have wandered off the trail and gone astray. in some lost alleyway, on my knees i'm fallen prey.
6.
Seems hardly fair to pick apart your argument, Your heart’s scared and I couldn’t bear to harden it. Your laugh’s paired with asymptomatic parliament To pass laws that will govern how you garden it. There’s a closed-off tunnel to the sweet spot, There’s an anchor that plummets from the tree top, There’s a failure to protect your neck from sea knots and What’s left when you’re wilting with a weak flock? I’m subordinate, shorn but now I’m bored of it, Borderline whored but no one bought or even thought of it. Of course I was coarse and I distorted it, But life’s a pretty picture when the price is less exorbitant. I wept, we ineptly seek the heart of it. And I kept a bitter promise just to pardon it. We crept around the problem til the hardened tip Burst through the gut of the deception that we started with. I fell, if this is hell I’m not apart of it, And I slept with the cold corpse of argument, This smell left to dwell right where we started it, Opened eyes to the light, watch me darken it. I fell, if this is hell I’m not apart of it, And I wept against the cold corpse of argument, This smell left to dwell right where we started it, Opened eyes to the light, watch me darken it. I fell, if this is hell I’m not apart of it, And I pressed against the cold corpse of argument, This smell left to dwell right where we started it, So what's left but to finish what we started with? One by one’s and two by two’s, Insist I break or insist I bruise. And since I wake and this sickness looms, The sickness shakes all the symptoms loose. The fists I make don’t persist with grace, I’m black and blue but I’m fixed in place. The fists I make don’t resist with grace. No. The dark disappeared one morning when I woke up, Flames in my breakfast, deluge in my tea cup. It took time still to paste on the make-up, The beasts and the burdens are bustled in a B-cup. There’s a vacant vessel I’ve been poured in, There’s an ache in a muscle that’s been worn thin, There’s a taste and a texture to the poison and a hatred for the faceless and the maker that I’ve sworn in. I divorced from it, forced to fuck and force the vomit, Paused to press the promise on us pressured by the press and commerce. One comment, once common, one woman, One wasted on the waivered conversations, incongruent. I’m ruined, and I know I’m not apart of it, So I slept against the cold corpse of argument, This chest heaved the message then discarded it, so What’s left but to finish what we started, Shit. One by one’s and two by two’s, Insist I break or insist I bruise. And since I wake and this sickness looms, The sickness shakes all the symptoms loose. The fists I make don’t persist with grace, I’m black and blue but I’m fixed in place. The fists I make don’t resist with grace. No.
7.
I guess I’ve changed, I’m not the same as my former self. Things look different now, I’m falling out and cold as hell. Wondering about the state of my mental health, Distancing the inner sickness from the outer shell. When I eat I’m still depleted and heaving loud, But still soft enough to cough it up or keep it down. This hysteria is haunting me, retreats to ground. You see it etched into the depth of my beaten brow. There’s a burned out body languished on the bottom rung. And still I shiver from my liver to the iron lung. From the hither to the whither to the tired tongue, I stare directly down the barrel of your Gatling gun. And it’s the safest way to pick apart the progeny. We mean no harm but in dismay we flay our property. I’m the same as every problem perched on top of me, So it’s too late to seize the haste to say this properly. I’m not the same, I’m not the same, I’m not the shame I’m in. I’m not same, I’m not the same, I’m not the pain I’m in. I’m not the same, I’m not the same, I’m not the shell I’m in. I’m not the same, I’m not the same, I’m not the hell I’m in. Don’t slip, I could miss the mark and murk us both. It’s not a threat, I still invest in what I wait to know. If this is sex or just in jest or just incestuous hope, Either way it’s not okay if you won’t let it go. It’s the focus of the waiver, wavered slippery slope. If I’m supported by the waist, will you still let me low? All this water washed the waste that we came to know, And almost cherished, almost buried in the sable snow. This disaster’s still uncharted past the cradle’s end, Viscous plaster round the limb to coddle Kady’s mend. I’m the vast and the vapid and the fable’s friend, I’m not the same, I’m not the same, I’m not the shame I’m in. I’m not the same, I’m not the same, I’m not the shell I’m in. I’m not the shell I’m in. I’m not the hell I’m in. I’m not the same, I’m not the same, I’m not the shame I’m in. I’m not same, I’m not the same, I’m not the pain I’m in. I’m not the same, I’m not the same, I’m not the shell I’m in. I’m not the same, I’m not the same, I’m not the hell I’m in. I guess I’ve changed, I’m not the same as my former self. Things look different now, I’m falling out and cold as hell. Wondering about the state of my mental health. I couldn’t distance inner sickness from the outer shell. And my value fell. And my value fell. And my value, well, And my value fell. And my value fell. And my value fell. And my value fell, well And my value fell.
8.
I'm past post-partum and half pre-mortem. Adrift within the mixture; fever pitch and stark boredom. Wander in the dark between the heartland and the border. I wonder what they'll make of what I made of this disorder. Twenty nine respite years of cut corners. I slept within the texture and the lines of white flora. Stuck upon the eyelids of a hazy night aura. What the fuck I miss? I'm still adrift in high water. Some of us were old enough and some of us turned dry. Some of us were vacant when we plummet from the sky. I'm dead, yeah, I can see it in your eyes. I never felt the snow settle heavy in the pines. I'm past hardened within an inch of my discarded mind. A glass-halfer with a deeper pot of mulled wine. Man down, pass the flagon on the other side. This pursed mouth would never shout what it could keep inside. And I'ma let it ride. Yeah, I'ma let it ride. Yeah, I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. Yeah, I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. Yeah, I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. And they were golden; the days, they were pristine. I drew my blood just to test how much they'd miss me. The world spins, every ray a drop of citrine. I clung to it; learned to cling since I was fifteen. I'm past heartless, within an inch of my disarmoured lies. I bear naked every cell of what you loathe to like. High stakes leave me drowning at the waterline. Not sure the shell was ever adequate to leave behind. But I'ma let it ride. Yeah, I'ma let it ride. Yeah, I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. Yeah, I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. Yeah, I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. A grim parent, I agreed to grin and bear it, But I passed it down the line until you found the time to spare it. So art aside, every afterword was asinine, I probably asked too much of mine to really help them half the time. So I'm sorry if I burdened you. I guess I really never understood the magnitude. I guess I never took the weight enough to strengthen from it. I guess I never held the reigns enough to keep me honest. I probably never learned a lesson in a hard way. Reliability was never Kady's forte. One extreme to the next, I swung the axe toward the neck and never shied away from introspective swordplay. No. No remorse, eh? Won a battle, lost the war, what's the score say? Nah, no remorse, eh. I lost a lot but what remained was worth the heartache, Eh? Yeah, I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. Yeah, I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive. Yeah, I wanna fall down and hide. I'm not alive.
9.
The bigger the picture, the more I wanna crop it down. The deeper the root, the duller the sound. It’s borderline boredom that’s kept me around. It’s more about the marrow than the meat in this town. Your little puppet paws peel pieces away, Until pretty much the prettiness is all that remains. And the pictures on the walls are all faded and framed, Within the only two eyes that ever witnessed the change. And I regard that irregardless of the wasted charade, That the scarlet, pocked cheeks merely marked the disdain. That the many mocked the meek and so we parked in the rain. My fingers count the weeks against the line of the grain, Stay, and dispense of the pain. You never need to sweep the soil that swells in your veins. You never need to speak about the sway of the vane. The gust was just a breeze designed to blow you away. Away. Sway. Sway, sway, sway, sway away... Sway, sway, sway, sway away... Sway, sway, sway, sway away... Sway, sway, sway. The bigger the fixture, the more I wanna chop it down. The deeper the creek, the harder to drown. It’s less about the mess that keeps me hanging around, And more about the magnitude of nothing I’ve found. I barely scratch the surface with my shovel and spade, And if you come around to help I’ll probably turn you away. And if you come around to hope your hands can hold me in place, The sap that traps the bee can only cordon the haste. Hey. You want it this way. The smile is barely dry on what remains of the day. The sky is only high when you’ve sunken the stage. I’ve closed the only eyes that ever witnessed the change. Hey. You want it this way. The smile is barely dry on what remains of the day. The sky is only high because you’ve sunken the stage. I’ve closed the only eyes that ever witnessed the change. Sway. Sway. Sway, sway, sway, sway away... Sway, sway, sway, sway away... Sway, sway, sway, sway away... Sway, sway, sway.
10.
I’m just another casualty of the programmed detachment, Compassionless faction that I’m packed with. I’m scrapped out, stripped down and bare-browed, Balls-out boredom’s got my back against the wall now. I’ma powder up and I’ma power down, Let it fizzle til the crowd dig a foot in the ground. Hideous vision, systematic division delivered prisoners Hidden within this flaccid condition of living. On the borderline of waterlines rising up, Eyes driving north unto horizons. Switch your shadow for a deeper cloak of darkness, To dazzle in the starkness, comparison of harmlessness. They armed and hitched up, fixed up The messiness and heaviness of heartless fucks, Akin with armoured trucks. And I’m a witness to the system that we know and love. And I’m a victim of the system that we hold in trust. And I’ma listen when the whistle blows long and low. Oh, oh. I’ve been a fractured version of my ancient soul, From first light to first breath to last toll. I’m depleted- not created, destroyed or beaten. No reasons sit still in the mind of a heathen. I’ma beat it up, there’s beauty in the bruise and blood, Hue’s enough, the truth in touch oughta spark the truth in love. In the given fist the open palm is proof enough, That fortitude is force and guts that splatter in the void we clutch at. I’ma fight back, the white sack, the beige horse, Blazed torch to haze scorched the vessel that he came for. And stayed for, prayed for a good man, Two hands dumb enough to shake hands that stained red. The captured enraptured in a simple lie, So with hands tied, they’re fixed in their shallow life. And I’m a witness to the system that we know and love. And I’m a victim of the system that we hold in trust. And I’ma listen when the whistle blows long and low. Oh, oh. Your free thought’s a trade whore for slave wars. There’s not a single truth that you ain’t ever paid for. And it’s eclipsed by the distance unabridged, And the insistence that to live you gotta sacrifice the will you’re given. I’m bitten, I’m better, I’m bone and I’m dust, now. I’m rotten and ragged and dragged through the ghost town. Despite anti-life slogans on the billboards, I’m pretty sure that peace ain’t worth enough to kill for. I’m pretty sure that peace ain’t worth enough to kill for. I’ll meet you at the dregs when the time is nigh, So in the darkness you will sense ascend directed time. And I’ll bleed with the rest when the time is nigh. And I’m a witness to the system that we know and love. And I’m a victim of the system that we hold in trust. And I’ma listen when the whistle blows long and low. Oh, oh. Big dreams in a small brain, face it, You’re little more than shit, eat, complacent. The same story at the start when it’s basic, And the day that it ends, well ain’t a damn thing changed it. Big dreams in a small brain, face it, You’re little more than shit, eat, complacent. The same story at the start when it’s basic, And the day that it ends, well, ain’t a damn thing changed it. Well, ain’t a damn thing changed it. And I’m a witness to the system that we know and love. And I’m a victim of the system that we hold in trust. And I’ma listen when the whistle blows long and low. Oh, oh.

about

Australian hip hop husband-and-wife team, Thorts and Kady Starling, present their double-EP release via French indie label Dora Dorovitch. The double-EP features 10 new tracks, with a fusion of Australian, French and American alternative hip hop styles.

Thorts’ 5-track EP, entitled Come What May, is produced by Zoën and features Ceschi, David Ramos and Tommy V of Fake Four Inc., as well as DJ Emoh Betta of Fameless Fam. Kady Starling (who also goes by the name of Kadyelle) releases her 5-track solo EP on the B-Side, entitled Waiting to Expire, with production from French duo, Haunted Days & Witch’s Teat.

The couple currently reside in Western Australia with their two children, where Thorts works as a train driver and Starling studies law.
Thorts will be releasing an ep with Melbourne producer/mc Aetcix who he has been working with since 1999 and previously they were known as Field Trip. They will be releasing an ep on January the 9th titled Thorts & Aetcix - Frog Brothas'99. Thorts will also be releasing a new ep mid 2019 produced by Aetcix so stay tuned!

credits

released December 20, 2018

Thorts – Come What May

Written by: Adrian Somerville
Produced by: Zoen
Mixed by: Katy Somerville
Mastered by: Avene
Artwork by: Katy Somerville
DJ Emoh Betta appears courtesy of Fameless Fam
Ceschi, David Ramos & Tommy V appear courtesy of Fake Four Inc.

Kady Starling – Waiting to Expire

Written by: Katy Somerville
Produced by: Haunted Days & Witch’s Teat
Mixed by: Katy Somerville
Mastered by: Avene
Artwork by: Katy Somerville

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Dora Dorovitch France

Dora Dorovitch is a small capacity creative unit born 2000, France.Hosts a secret research department on non-sustainable music, other impossible projects.
For the ten years of the label we restarted our action with the compilation "connect the machine to the map" dedicated to Alt hip hop music.
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