Half-size shame is ashamed of Shiness
Handmade Shane made some pancakes
Karl Marx flies in sunnysideup
No leg no head but it’s not Friday
Evil flowers flows
Urdo tambourine falls
Yellow Hippo On blow
Mellow lever
I’ll show silence
I fuckinn hate it
My pillow,take it
I think I’m red door
I can’t keep my fucking words again
At least I’m not a dog whose royalty is siphoned
Cannot wag tail,but she loves dog
Tattoo on this sky,bright ugly sky
You don’t have to say thank all
Cos all is so gross
Fish will say ‘Don’t eat me for any reason’
Hit my head against the wall
To correct myself
Admit violence of giving birth
Shit I can get along with myself ,darling
Stick to obsession and stick to my body
Babies are pickled
In anoheramine
(赤ん坊はアンフェタミン漬け)
- Lyricist
[Lily]
- Composer
[Lily]
Listen to Still Guava Above Spike by [Lily]
Streaming / Download
- 1
Datura
[Lily]
- 2
Sharon Hayes
[Lily]
- 3
The Sewing Machine and the Bat Umbrella
[Lily]
- 4
Panopticon
[Lily]
- 5
κύκλος
[Lily]
- 6
More Pricks Than Pilgrimage
[Lily]
- 7
Nada Rosa
[Lily]
- ⚫︎
Still Guava Above Spike
[Lily]
E - 9
Pikey
[Lily]
- 10
Drowse
[Lily]
- 11
Diablo Rain Says..., after slow death coming into sanctified land, that...
[Lily]
- 12
Sacrifice
[Lily]
- 13
Deterritorialisation
[Lily]
The name Lily is taken from ''Almost Transparent Blue''. We wrote the songs with the concept of recapitulating the violence that existed at the time. Not to build up in the repeating days, but to keep living off to the side. The emphasis is on continuing to change, and the songs combine a certain radicalism, irony, and silliness, as Burroughs said, 'Drugs is one way of life'.
Even if at times we are flooded with feelings of dying, the footprints of this curse-like violence that existed will keep us moving forward into an open future. And maybe one day some fond excavator will discover that there were deformed dinosaurs. And its prehistoric roar will also summon up ghosts that could never have existed.
Artist Profile
[Lily]
The most wierd post-rock band in this miserable world. Inspired by Gilles Deleuze. Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. We are (not) alone
