Behemoth

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Message Man

Message Man is the second album by Eddy Grant. He plays every instrument and sings every voice on this album. The album is significant for its socio-political stance in songs such as "Race Hate" and "Cockney Black". The track, "Hello Africa", is considered a major highlight of this album with Grant creating a unique genre that remains difficult to categorize to this day. more »

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Skeletons faintly sing strange lullaby's
In my closet they continue to multiply
Sadly I don't mind, no one else believes my alibi
Hardly a reason to justify...

Speak quietly, These walls have ears
Keep still, These doors have eyes
Don't believe what you hear
These beasts tell lies

With a mouth like a leaking faucet
Spitting words So cunning and wise
Under my bed, or in my closet
Sharing sapience with lonely glowing eyes

You'll find my glowing eyes late at night
Blissfully unaware of their appetite
Feasting on intrinsic thoughts like parasites
(Like parasites)

I find myself more often leaving my own sheets
To speak, with the behemoths, and monsters because we feel in sync
Disturbed, someone call the shrink
But if there's a hole in this ship, it doesn't matter we'll probably sink

I leave my pillow for the creatures hiding out below
In a world of their own, meadows of willows and shadows; a nightly show
A performance of ostinato, In staccato; it's flow they sew
Maybe I feel inclined to listen and speak because they seem to know

My company, my company, my company
When the monsters hear me scream
They all come running
But not to help me

How can you run, when they're in your head?
It starts to unravel when you pull out loose threads
I'd try to sleep but they invite their friends into my dreams
Mutually ripping at the stitches and the seams

Now and then the bones keep me up at night
No longer do I leave the sheets in delight
I'm growing sick of their ravenous spite
And I'm starting to realize, something doesn't feel right

I find myself more often leaving my own sheets
To speak, with the behemoths, and monsters because we feel in sync
Disturbed, someone call the shrink
But if there's a hole in this ship, it doesn't matter we'll probably sink

I leave my pillow for the creatures hiding out below
In a world of their own, meadows of willows and shadows; a nightly show
A performance of ostinato, In staccato; it's flow they sew
Maybe I feel inclined to listen and speak because they seem to know

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