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The Skys a Soft Target

by Pink Stainless Tail

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album


    Originally issued in September 2003, we've just found a few spare copies of the first PST disc to sell! It's a five track disc in jewel case with three-panel booklet designed by Harry with stupid sleeve notes by Simon and blurry photos.

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Skys a Soft Target via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days

      $10 AUD or more 

    You own this  


  • Digital Album
    Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $2 AUD  or more

    You own this


Your brain is a sweet shop so what will you choose You like the red ones and I like the blues The red ones are hard but the hard ones are easy The blue ones are bulls-eyes so now you can see me Hypoglycemia! That's easy for you to say If your teeth all fall out, i guess that that's ok Hypoglycemia! It's multisyllabic And if it didn't taste so sweet I'd soon kick the habit See the man in the sweetshop, his teeth are intact He's got rows and rows of things he keeps in jars out the back But I never understand the things that he tells me His eyes as cold and glassy as the humbugs that he sells me (chorus) Sherbet bombs and barley twists, love hearts and swizzles All day suckers, kola kubes, spearmint leaves Flying saucers, love hearts, life-savers Satin cushions and aniseed balls (chorus) The red ones last longer, they melt on your tongue The blues ones leave a funny taste after they've gone The green ones make the earth seem like a tiny ball And the purple ones taste the best but they don't make you feel like you're anything at all
See that blind man in the street, week old dog turd at his feet Tap tap tap across the road, tap tap squelch is how it goed there's a hedge that separates the rest of the park For the sighted and the eternal dark So I'll say I beg your pardon but now I'm must take me down to St Anne's Wells gardens And if I waited for one thousand years Just on the off chance that you'd come by here And when at last you strolled on through I pretended not to notice you There's a thin line between tragedy and mundanity And none at all when you stood next to me but when the night falls and the shadows lengthen I lost sight of you in St Anne's Wells Gardens Five minutes from home all alone in the forest woke beneath the slide from beneath the frost couldn't tell my fried egg from my toast And you were sleeping while I was lost There's a thin line between tragedy and mundanity And there will come an hour when you'll wake next to me Mid-winter soon it's 4am in the morning (sic) I'm there waiting still in St Anne's Wells gardens
It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, Upon the cloudy mountain-peak supine; Below, far lands are seen tremblingly; Its horror and its beauty are divine. Upon its lips and eyelids seem to lie Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine, Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, The agonies of anguish and of death. Yet it is less the horror than the grace Which turns the gazer's spirit into stone, Whereon the lineaments of that dead face Are graven, till the characters be grown Into itself, and thought no more can trace; 'Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain Which humanize and harmonize the strain. And from its head as from one body grow, As grass out of a watery rock, Hairs which are vipers, and they curl and flow And their long tangles in each other lock, And with their unending involutions show Their mailèd radiance, as it were to mock The torture and the death within, and saw The solid air with many a raggèd jaw. And, from a stone beside, a poisonous eft Peeps idly into those Gorgonian eyes; Whilst in the air a ghastly bat, bereft Of sense, has flitted with a mad surprise Out of the cave this hideous light had cleft, And he comes hastening like a moth that hies After a taper; and the midnight sky Flares, a light more dread than obscurity. 'Tis the tempestuous loveliness of terror; For from the serpents gleams a brazen glare Kindled by that inexorable error, Which makes a thrilling vapour of the air Becomes a and ever-shifting mirror Of all the beauty and the terror there- A woman's countenance, with serpent-locks, Gazing in death on Heaven from those wet rocks.
Evaelycul 01:45


(NB The track 'Godtsar' is omitted from this online version)

Surreal guitar rock featuring Harry Howard from These Immortal Souls on guitar. Their debut EP comes across like a late 70s post-punk take on psychedelica, kind of like Red Krayola fronted by a manic William Burroughs on a peyote binge... - Rene Schaeffer - Mess & Noise

Good good good! Flailing early 80's no-wave sound with classic Happy Mondays shuffle… Authentic post modern pop. Morgan Fisher would love this! - Cumbersome Records


released September 26, 2003

Nick Boddington (bass)
Harry Howard (guitar)
Sonke Rickertsen (drums)
Simon Strong (voice)

Recorded and mixed with Adrian at Incubator.
Cover: Caesar.


Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.



Pink Stainless Tail Melbourne, Australia

PST is/was/ever will be: Nick Boddington (bass), Harry Howard (guitar), Sonke Rickertsen (drums), Simon Strong (voice).

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