Fire up that grey old machine that I picked up for under a grand, say and let’s drive it out at night on a dead straight piece of road!
I thought that from a distance, if I squint, it kinda reminds me of that car from BTTF - The DeLorean DMC-12  
It wasn’t even based on a desire to go fast, no I just thought that’s what men are supposed to do
Like playing football, swearing, making fun of people’s haircuts and not talking about your feelings or your fears
 When I got my license I didn’t drive for the whole of the month that I got it
I didn’t feel all that “finally, freedom!” stuff you see in films and TV
But maybe blame me or wait, no, you should blame it on that awful desert town swelter
But some stupid voice that night on the dark road was incessantly telling me to -

[diga diga diga diga] GO FULL BORE
[diga diga diga diga] GO FULL BORE
[diga diga diga diga] GO FULL BORE
 [dig diga digg] GO FULL BORE

Blasting Bathory cassettes, high on bad production
Eating stale old sausage rolls from dodgy petrol stations
It was the late 90’s but my head was in the 80’s..( in the 90’s, 80’s stuff was lame as hell) 
Feeling isolated  in the middle of the country it was midnight and I wasn’t doing well
I recently dreamt that these wheels were collectible, prized & highly sought after 
And my ex girlfriend stole mine and totalled it trying to do a burn out on the grass
And I woke up with an unruly feeling, an odd weird desire to drive that old Magna..
Well anyway.. Back to my story, I was out there alone when that voice screamed again - 
GO FULL BORE
GO FULL BORE
GO FULL BORE
I gradually stepped on the pedal & I got it to 140 km’s an hour
The steering wheel started to shake a bit and I got nervous, so I slowed back down
The next day was more or less normal, except for some reason I told my father
And he rarely got pissed off with me, but I heard the tone in his voice change as he said - 
NO FULL BORE
NO FULL BORE
NO FULL BORE
				

Feel like you’re caught up in a proton stream
Think you’ve had one too many photon dreams
Your lazer only has one setting… stun

10 print “bodacious”
20 goto 10
Run

The moon, it isn’t shy, it’s just polite
You know what time it is, it’s “freezeframed midnight”
You’re in the future though you’re from the present
Fully charged, never not one hundred percent

The sky is very noisy
So I’d recommend you turn it down
And when we die we maybe go up there… or something

You may be well before your time, it could be that we’re too far behind
Maybe we’re faultlessly aligned. You have it? wellgivit
See, I think you’re outshining the sun, frayed ends of hangups come undone
To think your beast is still to come. You have it. wellgivit

Feel like a mirrorball on highspeed dub
Swaying in the glow of a neon nightclub
Or maybe on the moon, bouncing...waiting
The land was real but we just faked escaping
Imagine shooting out a billion beams
Once every second - hypercolour slipstream
We’ll “drive” at “night” to keep our “paint” from “peeling”
Be careful! Even your emotions have feelings

This guy is very nosy, 
(picture me digging my thumbs into my chest)
When we live, we may as well live down here… or something

Roll out the light and run it deep. Put this thing on and hit repeat
Wake up the city from it’s sleep. You have it. wellgivit
Cough up your keys, ignite the spark. Dig out your mind, blow it apart.
Max out the settings of your heart. You have it. Wellgivit
				

Mine is a mind that is tired all the time
It gets harder to find a good time to unwind
Back to work, I guess that's fine..?
Try to stay focused, put my head down
We can't all be kings, we can't all fit the crown
Flood that silence out with sounds
For a moment I'm grateful, haughty and proud
And then I'll see someone that's similar to me
But fitter and more nicely lit
Instantly up floods the blood spitting spite
and I feel my self worth shot to shit
Admit it's a sin, else it's hard to repent
You can't rape the willing, I give you consent!
Fire and blood's a stifling scent..
Squandering passion has left me bereft
Exhausted and spent - there's no fight in me left
Should I lay down and wait for death?
Am I self-absorbed, or just self obsessed?
Give me the spotlight and I'll hide in the wings
It's not even clear what I want
Tell friends that I'm quitting for the millionth time
Get mad when they act nonchalant
Everyone fakes that they're doing so great
No-one's admitting it's hard
Well, I can fake a half-smile use big words and act smart
But I can't fake not having an awful, rancorous heart

Further on down I can feel in my core that there's something important amiss
And you'd think I should know that I shouldn't compare and just fuckin get on with it
Give me the spotlight and I'll hide in the wings. Tell me to sit and I'll fly
I look like an old man and I act like a kid
And I live like I'm ready to die
No-one improves from feeling content. We risk it and pull it apart
I can half-fake politeness and witty remarks
But I can't fake not owning a caring, yet rancorous heart
				

I walk this planet in search of knowledge and of truth
& yes the moon’s a spaceship, & yes I have the proof
An ancient astronaut came & told me in a dream
That the moon is mostly hollow (save for circuits and steel beams)
We’re being lied to, it seems
Do you have any evidence at all to back these claims?
Would you rather trust your senses than to have to use your brains?
Why do you choose to just ignore what scientists have said?
You imbecile, it’s not the moon that’s hollow, it’s your head

You’re a moron.

I roam this flat earth in pursuit of the lizard men
Your Queen’s a cannibal, your leader’s hiding nephilim
Do you not hear that incessant ringing coming from the skies?
The moon’s a giant spaceship controlled by otherworldly spies
Stay woke and open your eyes
Not only are you dumb and wrong, your mind’s completely cooked
You have spent too many years alone with science fiction books
I don’t believe a word of it you idiotic man
You’ll have to show me facts and stats, or I won’t give a damn
There are people with equipment who have studied it for years
It’s not the moon that rings, it’s your disgusting, waxed up ears

Do you have any evidence at all to back these claims?
Would you rather trust your senses than to have to use your brains?
See I too don’t trust the government, I guess you got me there
And I do agree they try to keep us all asleep and scared..
Well the more I sit and listen, yeah, the more I hear it too
And the more I watch, the more I question if all I’m taught is true
Could it be that everything that I’ve been told is false and wrong?
If it’s not the moon that’s ringing, then where is that coming from?
				

Concerning Lix & Fairs, well that’s a good‘un
And I hope you have the ear strength to listen to the whole thing

Lix was a good man, to be sure, and sure liked to have his good fun
And like everyone, he has his flaws, and yep, overpartying’s one
So when Malcolm came in to dust the suspects, Lix fired a shot of “All-Ray”
With a whoosh he was whisked to the nearby woods, and time skipped to later that day

Ok I’m not sure, I can’t really say Just how he obtained that weird “All-Ray”
Nah I don’t know, (and I really don’t care) But I remember the night that Lix found Fairs;

A poison dart frog *clicks fingers* that’s right! A bright tiny son-of-a-gun
He spotted the leap-about late that night while trawling the woods for his son 
So Lix picks him up with a stick ‘n says “hi” to his new dendrobatidae chum 

“You’re small as a tick - I’m calling you FAIRS” It lept in the brim of the hat on his head
2 new friends, an unlike-ely pair The old mate Lix and a frog named Fairs
2 best friends, the inseparable pair The moustached Lix and the dart frog Fairs

In the fragile hours of the night/day downgrade
They came across the eggshell, and weird track marks in the sand
Followed them for oh, maybe 7 hours?
Through trampled weeds and flowers
It led them to the site
Of the parliament of owls at their annual meeting
Another baffled greeting, as they explain “He was just here!”
They drew another map, and so he headed westward
But the owl’s directions and the creature’s tracks didn’t correspond...

Lix was a mess - a panic attack! But Fairs calmly croaked in the brim of his hat
A mash of the keys, and a shot of All-Ray Didn’t help as the same spot there they stayed
Now Lix didn’t know how fast he could run With a poncho, hat and a fickle ray gun
But I couldn’t time, I wouldn’t dare How quick was the air from Lix & Fairs

Now listener, don’t be sad When I tell you they almost nearly made it
They watched the creature dive in...


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------




The weird All-Knowing activates its suckers and it latched to that which hatched.
But soon it gets distracted - whack! Attacked there by our moustached hero with the All-Ray in his hand!

Then a frog to feast on flaps its flippers, so the fierce old cephalo
pod springs forth (with fifty hundred fangs) and goes to chomp our now huge
 friend with poison oozing from its skin!

Fiddling controls again, Lix takes another shot but WHAT? Fairs leaps out in the way! Oblivious to what is happening
Suddenly Fairs is large! Big as a whale so Lix jumps on
oh no, the monster lunges, Lix has no other choice but to
Sacrifice Fairs, his best friend just to save himself


The squiddy beast poisoned, all shrivelled it be
The rock creature sunk on down into the sea
Lix swam to shore with tears in his eyes
And Fairs shrunk back down to his usual size

And Malcolm would pass, and who should he find?
Well, maybe we’ll leave that till next time
				

Of course there’s a limit. I can’t and won’t deny
It’s obvious this doesn’t go forever
But think of it as freedom. A goal with an end in sight
If you like, we can go through with this together

With thought, we hinder action 
To act is to combine with time
Through time, we learn to harness thought
It all perpetuates and permeates  
The Ultimate Exalter

We exist in a quandary. It’s irrefutable
And the power does no favours when it changes hands
But I’m alive, goddamn it. I’m a mire of blood and flesh!
And I’ll rise - engulf the sky to eat the God of man.  

Pride brings on elated joy
With joy, comes a guilt-ridden pain
Let pain absolve the suffering!
Allow the farce to end, and thus begin
The Ultimate Exalter
				

I saw Mrs. Troffea through my kitchen window, looking rather pale and thin though (I dunno)
Whilst her face looked weary, her body moved in frenzy
Wild & tempestuously. Really!  
I called “Ma’am, are you alright? It’s quite after midnight. The moon is off-white
 and very bright.
She looked bang-on at me, all contorted, ghastly
And said, no, gasped at me -

“Do you know why it is I cannot stop dancing? I try to calm myself but I keep on dancing
My feet are killing me, hips are failing me, I can’t breathe oh..
Can someone tell me why I cannot stop dancing?
No really sir, I think that I have a problem - 
I’m out of rhythm~the beat is missing ~it’s non-existent”

Then from out of nowhere, people came and joined in, and boogie’d down until the morning (not me though)
What a sight to witness , peasants in the dawnglow with muddy pantaloon-o’s (psychos!)
“Hot blood” cited officials. “Excited individuals”. 
And from my window, I saw them call in musicians! 
To play the rhythms to get it outta their systems
But they were screaming now -

“Does anyone know why I cannot stop dancing?
I’m serious I really cannot stop dancing
My toes are blistery, knees are history, I can’t see oh..
I cannot breathe and yet I cannot stop dancing
My hair is shedding, teeth are rotted and rancid
It’s been a week I’ve been on this street, I can barely speak-oh

The sound of scuffling sandals echoed out across the wind
Hordes of people bobbing, bleeding from their scabby shins
One by one they’d wig out, then collapse down on the ground
Piling up and forming a disturbing body mound
There they swayed and writhed and crunched. Those poor 400 souls
Falling to their death exhausted, don’t know how to stop
Music made it worse, that was a very bad idea
Not efficacious, more contagious, less than gracious, quite hellacious 

Now my whole family’s buried in those mountains
And all my friends are dead, they died of dancing
				

Another rat trap snaps in perfect unison
Another wide-eyed body on the pile
There’s a way to patch the hole they scurry in
I just haven’t had time

Gather up your whims and things you wish against
Shoot ‘em straight into the sun
Burn your pleasure centres out on liquorice
Have you never had fun?

A prune’s not a poor man’s plum
Wit’s not a clever man’s sarcasm
Your mind and your thoughts aren’t one
And bats aren’t birds

There are eight ways to solve every prob-e-lem
And maybe one or two are good
There are five that look much more appealing than
 Than the one you should

Do is not the same as done - Pride’s just well-tempered ego
Luck’s not an oft beat drum - And acts aren’t words
A prune’s not a poor man’s plum - Wit’s not a clever man’s sarcasm
Your mind and your thoughts aren’t one - And bats aren’t birds

Your big toe is just a well hid thumb - And talent = highly beamed obsession
The earth’s but a cosmos crumb - Or maybe
I’m just a ploughman’s son - Too ill equipped for philosogy
I find that my feelings run - When i've Maxed out words
A prune’s not a poor man’s plum - Wit’s not a clever man’s sarcasm
Your mind and your thoughts aren’t one...2 34
And bats aren’t birds
				

No-one was sure when he moved there, it’s like he just appeared
Kinda old, not young, no interesting features (‘cept a beard)
And he only came out from his house to get his weekly mail
And to collect some stamps and envelopes - always without fail
This day, his neighbour came and knocked - “Hello! my name is Joan
I rarely see you leave your house, do you live here alone?”
He oddly recognized her as a “yes” escaped his mouth
“Could you come in a sec? I need to figure some things out..”

The town pretty much carries on its day
And the people all go about their way
The sun may shine but the wind blows cold
And it carries whispers & secrets told
And that’s how it goes for the guy that no-one really knows

So, William was the postal man that Joan was married to
He saw the two of them converse from down a street or two
He watched an hour till finally they both stepped back outside
They hugged, he squeezed her hand, she stroked his face there as he cried
A man of rocky temperament was William to be sure
He fumed back to the mailroom. Angrily he slammed his door
Unconscious thought is a funny thing, and rage is hard to hide
No less when staring at a carton of Rodenticide

“We gave you up, but understand
I was a nervous dumb young man
And I know it’s hard but keep it quiet for now
We must get hold of your Mum somehow
I will write back home” said the guy that no-one really knows

There’s no relief from loneliness, for that there’s no respite
It just makes you make poor choices that will keep you up at night
And what’s the point of jealousy? What even is it for?
That bitter claim of ownership over what your heart adores
 And if you can’t speak the words and thoughts your stormy brain’ll bring
You can write ‘em down and send ‘em off, it’s mostly the same thing

They only thought something was up when his mailbox overflowed
A month or so of letters scattered all over the road
They found him on a Monday, inside his house alone
With no suspicious circumstances, cause of death unknown 
Said Joan “Oh Bill, he was my Dad. He told me back in June”
He began to shake and nervously that William left the room
And the next day, well, she found him hanging, swinging in the breeze
With a letter of confession in the pocket of his jeans

“I don’t know how to think too much
The glue would sting as the tongue did touch
I saw you two and I jumped the gun
I can’t handle the guilt o’er what I done”

But the town pretty much carried on its day
And the people all went about their way
The sun will burn and the winds howl cold
And it’ll carry the tales & the stories old
It carried them, too, ‘bout the guy that no-one really knew
Oh his time was due, the guy that no-one really knew
And it’s mostly true, this story of the guy that no-one really knew
And thus concludes my yarn about the guy that no-one really knew
				

And here he is with some slight variations
But other than that, well there’s not much to comment on
Similar. Not identical, but mostly the same
He thinks about all of the chances he’s floundered
He picks up the pieces, but scatters them out again
He never learns - the mess just seems to only get worse

(sax solo by Jeremy Diffey)

Then he’ll inexplicably find motivation
You’ll see it, his eyes won’t be so sullen anymore
But it won’t last long! - and everything will be as it was
And out of nowhere, he’ll burst out with laughter
So overwhelmed with how funny it’s turning out
Hilarious. Trying things he’s already tried

He’s there, and then he does that
Trying to turn it around like he always does
He’s there, and then he does that
He does that, but only sometimes

He’s good for a while until all of a sudden
The burden of all of his responsibilities
Wipes him out - leaves him in a pile on the ground
People are plentiful with their suggestions
Making themselves feel like they are contributing
But he’s on to them! Shutting out friend after friend

He’s there, and then he does that
Convinced that there’s more and that this isn’t good enough
He’s there, and then he does that
He does that, but only sometimes
Running on instinct and fear like an animal

I hope you realise that this is all there is
Nothing changes, it simply will be this
You’ll struggle with the same things you always have
And take for granted the stuff that’s not so bad
Things will stay more or less the same
Minor details, nothing much will change
Not the future, nor in what you’ve left behind
You’ll never cross it If you keep shifting that line
Or maybe some other time?
				

I am a wizard. I wasn’t born one, I have learnt my craft with time
I’m often in the woods honing my spells of shock and ice
But I’m a poor man. The local mages teach their wizdom at great price
I try selling things at my market stall -  hyssop, sage and thyme..
But one night I saw a winged beast come swooping down from high
It’s fiery breath lit up the forest sky
My hands did shake, but I blasted frozen electricity
straight in its mouth and it fell into the trees!

Acting on instinct I scaled the tree trunk, and I scaled its scaley tail
It’s flinching slowly faded. My bravery had prevailed
I was a hero! I’d saved the town, I’d saved their lives! Yet no-one saw..
I needed proof. I reached inside its mouth - yanked at its jaw
I put it in a case and proudly placed it at my stall But for the reaction I was not prepared at all...

“How much for that dragon tooth?” is what they said to me
“The one there in that old glass case you keep under lock and key?”
“How much for that dragon tooth?” one warrior exhaled
I shook my head and simply said “this tooth is not for sale”

When I was younger I read an ancient book detailing the cursed dragon’s teeth -
Stronger than a sword, pity all it met with underneath
The problem being When the tooth comes in contact with the blood it draws
The dragon is reborn, even stronger than before!
But curses, I’m so poor and sick and in debt to all the mages
And a mage will not accept his wage in sage...

“How much for that dragon tooth?” one man was getting mad
And I was getting desperate, for I’d spent all that I had
“How much for that dragon tooth!?” My stomach was in knots
I frowned my brow, looked up and said “well how much have you got?”

I took his bags of gold, I paid my debts and left that place (I was 4 miles up a mountain by this stage) I turned, just for a moment when I heard the howls of pain
And my eyes met with a town engulfed in flames..


“How much for that dragon tooth?” is what they said to me
“The one there in that old glass case you keep under lock and key…?”
“How much for the dragon tooth?” those words pervade my thoughts
Well, what’s the cost of glory? Can it simply not be bought?
“How much for that dragon tooth?” A spell of shock and ice.
How much is “not enough”, you fools, can you afford the price?
				

THE ALBUM THE FANS BUILT!

Over the last couple of years myself and Salty put together 40+ pieces and asked the 250+ amazing individuals on patreon to vote on which 12 songs were the absolute magic, the primary examples, cat's pyjamas, the bunyip's baps, the certified BEST of the lot to release to the public in the form of an album.

Yes, the songs on this album were hand-picked by the most hardcore Toehider fans. Brilliant! Also this release will be a first for Toehider as it will also be available as a double 180gram gatefold-sleeve vinyl.



--a note to the lucky people that got in early on the 24hr sale last year--
I printed some patreon-exclusive CDs to give out to Toehider patrons, and I had some spares leftover. I asked them what I should do with them, and they said "sell them!", so that's what you got. This new album "I Like It!" has some selections from that exclusive album you were lucky enough to get.