The First Immoralist

by Giant Sighs

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    "Hard-fared paths, barbed bottlenecks
    A witch, and a well to draw water."


  • Animation



Written by Patrick O'Malley & Joseph Mounsey


released July 25, 2009

Recorded and mixed in various locations 2005-2009


Produced by Joseph Mounsey

Sampling, Keyboards & Synthesisers, Guitars & Bass, Vocal/Talkbox/Vocoder, Piano, Guitar, Drums, Percussion, Electribe MX-1, Vibes, Clarinet & Artwork by Joseph Mounsey

Guitar by Patrick O'Malley

Vocal by Neil Tollitt

Violin by Alice O'Leary

Additional Engineering & Drums by Jamie Ward




Giant Sighs Antarctica

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Track Name: Overseas (nightlines)

It came out of me
I find it this hard just to stay warm
face, your name, to voice

but that's your problem
So for half an hour every night
I stare silence at dead air
I hate the window, he just lied twice
looked outside, the air is clear

A short walk, just to state your name
through each degree is "understanding" how to hear
In beautiful weather we can relax on such a quiet road
that i have room enough to sway from side to side.
Eyes glow without focus. Lungs never close.
occupied and introduced.

Lucky we are
ever ten times
Believe me alone
All because the race is so old
Talk less and listen

This grip's bringing trust back to find,
find security so we can all go back to work
This is wrong we're out of home
Here is planning we don't call our own
Stuck in a corner trying to better myself
Asking about blocks and 'ifs' and 'buts'
Everyone else i can call here, overlooks the fact
Now even you! can insecurely fall apart
Ease is pleasant reason
Believe me alone
Track Name: Canvas Eventually Redraw (far afield)

Can we
Stop this worried sickness?
Too few ways to clear, early on, so it's simply
useless, useful, priceless, beautiful

The last day i lived we got the little things out of the way
In short all demeanors became apparent
Post your letters back the way they came
Impersonally decided so many times in so many seconds

Keeping eyes closed we can decide who lies most
you can be whoever you want to be,
the world will always be a violent place.
Liquid swallowed everything

Whisper your worries to ears and eyes, of course
Honesties trapped in every belly with both hands up
Track Name: Prescient Cognition Theory (a message passed forward)

A simple oath to the audience, I promise you'll like what you hear
'herd, lure, command, teach, shade.'
So says the seal

We left in ones and twos and we left a few
Chance is if you're lost you've lost your chance
Certainly we choose to fail, to leave our plans too long for books
Single ship sets to sail, and is rarely understated

New rooms in the halls above
Distractions hiss
"We're isolate and temperamental"
Solemn goodbyes and good luck
Can you worry without a household?
Would a fear develop?

Watching things moving...
Why do you want to watch?
No pleasant reason,
Took a wrong turn up there.
Support your speed
An insecurity to the loose point of fate
Up against the Great Wall, again
Practiced in the habits of star cultures
She's gazing at our cluster, when the haul comes in
Now, a while away with kaleidoscopes and calipers
Wicket rhythms shift below the grand, untidy mind

The time it took, to know between you and me, when they've been through it before.
Hard-fared paths, barbed bottlenecks
Gargamelle, and a source to draw water
Fresh treads stretch on, like a message passed forward
This spoor's design along the young trail
Track Name: Shamema & The Snake (the jealously guarded secret of the Fakirs)

I bathed, blithe in deep waters,
I surfaced to see surfaces cave.
These fissures bear manifest a taut and terrible frame.
Shades injecting on the highest bounds of the field
lace each glimpse of a new horizon now revolved, halcyonic.

Soon she trails a thirst
i'll fall hard of breath
wild reflections of stature
concealed a feast all knowing
revealed at least not showing
a part of the field
develops shrill, immature.

forward and dive, among your airborne
sewn with levies and perils
another wisdom used to disbelieve
their being civil or wise
cleaving cliffs in the eight-cube boundary,
taking the sow to the swamp.

Abberation, the regatta now in flight from it's course,
impressed upon great swollen plots of frail and meager wreckage.
On dense-faint debris, the light is good.
Your delapidated sham-palanquin, glides by sap and shade.
The Limner trinity gives a monstrous crackling,
on layers of meek limbs,
the glares and flashing.
Shed some shadow, set a lamp alight.

a blotch on the angels who cast their nets
A scheme to yield new affirmation.
'Commit cohorts to me', demands the catechism.
See! this cone is a loss column
All firing in idle dystrophy.

Within this pall, the band of sprites mount their auto da fe
Sunk underneath great swollen plots of frail and meager wreckage.