Glory

from by The Hate Eighties

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about

"I was going to be an artist, actually. My lofty dream. But I got married and had kids and making art just didn't seem that important any more. It's not a bad thing. It's amazing to care about something as much as I care about my kids. But yeah, I guess sometimes, when they're yelling and I've had a long day and I'm exhausted, there is a small spark somewhere deep in my brain that sort of resents them. But you know, it's not their fault. I could still be an artist if I chose to care less about them."
-Sandra Phillips

"Last night I finally got a date with Spence.

It's strange how long I'd been praying for it to happen. Three months. Three months since his probationary training period at Niedriger burger. He took my breath away when I first saw him shaking his sandy hair to the sides before fitting his red cap in place backwards. His blue eyes piercing through the stream straight to my heart.

"Selene," my manager had said, "this is Spence. For the next week it's your duty to take him through our prep area systems. Take extra care when showing him 'lettuce management', we seem to still be having issues in that area."

I'd cut off my pinkie finger to get back to that week and live it over and over on a loop, like the best episode of SureYouCan's 'It Just Gets Funnier." The two of us together at the back of the kitchen far from the noise of the checkouts. His arm would graze mine and we'd giggle nervously.

Last night. Last night, what a bloody disaster. We'd used our monthly media discount to go see 'Lucky in Love' at the cultureplex. Ten minutes in and his hand was on my knee. Electricity up my spine. I felt his soft breath in my ear. I closed my eyes in anticipation.

"Listen," he whispered, "I'm sorry, but you smell of fucking used cooking oil and meat. It's making me fucking sick and feel like I'm at work. I've got to go."
And then like a spray of steam from an espresso machine he was gone and I had to watch the rest of that shitty movie by myself.

I passed him this morning. He was talking to the black haired chick from the Tími Frozen Yogurt Palace.

It all wouldn't have been so bad had I not fished out £109 for that new Walton Xi Huang fragrance, Winter Garden."
-Selene Nash

lyrics

Lyrics:
Chorus 1
It’s all for the glory
And the grace and the green
Baby, don’t you worry
Replace, rewind and repeat
And repeat

Verse 1
Just like phosphorous burns. Prying
The curtain turns. Now I can’t
Ever dream again.
I was suplexed on your Pay-Per-View
They nailed my wife and children too
High fives all round

Chorus 2
It’s all blood guts and glory,
And the mace and the screams
It’s all for the story
Replace, rewind and repeat
Like a bitter dream

Verse 2
Just like lipstick red cherry lips
They blamed me for unhappy kids on a
List of the top ten tales of shame
I wore spandex and a bridal gown on the
Front cover of every town
The neighbourhood watch made me a household name

Breakdown
I’m calling, waiting for the prime-time murder
A life these days is cheap as a Niedriger burger
Go larger for just a few cents more
The grave is deeper for just a few cents more

Go Larger
Go Deeper
Dream on

credits

from POW, released October 9, 2015

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The Hate Eighties Glasgow, UK

The Hate Eighties are archeologists of the future using the prism of the past to reflect a bleak present you just haven't realised you live in yet.

The Hate Eighties are an everymedia project designed for full audience interaction. They are fashion, sex, power, microwaves, tropical holidays, TV celebrity worship, and working/sleeping/recreation for eight hours apiece.

They are your life.
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