by Sloth Metropolis

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Part 2 of the Sloth Metropolis Saga; Attack! (A Different Departure)


released 21 December 2013

Songs by Sloth Metropolis, words by Calum Calderwood. Engineered by Steve McNamara and mixed by Calum.



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Sloth Metropolis Glasgow, UK

An eclectic combination of sounds and stories. The jaked and the jeered, scaly reptile royalty, pretentious welders, summertime buddhas, man-made manticores, newsagents and, of course, the Sloth of the Metropolis.

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Track Name: Attack!

‘I was going to stay in
And watch a bit of Corry
Invited to the boozer
I said “no I’m sorry,
I’m busy”

And my boy’s got football in the morning
I’m driving him so I can’t still be snoring
And the wife says i’m on my final warning

He says “no you’re not
You’re coming with me”
So I go to the pub
And one pint turns to three
About to go home
When he turns and he says


He’s a man without conviction,
Decision or intention
Going with the flow
Without a single new invention
But underneath the surface
there’s potential for progression
He won’t hear the summons
so we’re gonna need a little aggression

Slipping out his shadow
There’s a wheeling dealing creature
A scaly tarasque
Playing Mr. Motivator
Creating situations
Where sooner or later
This case of bad faith
Will have to turn himself
Into a free agent

Handy man-made manticore
Placate him with another war
And wear him
Right down to the bone
Declare him
A thing that you own

This scaly tortoise-shelled Tarasque
Harassed a basking shark unmasked
As someone
You’d rather avoid
The remnant
Of something destroyed

So out the trench you’re swiftly sent
Unarmed and without nourishment
You close your eyes you hit n hope
With flailing fist you go for broke…


He Who Cannot Be Arsed sits in silence, his mate waiting for an answer. Inside, he twists and divides. He doesn’t want to disappoint, and after all, it’s only a pint.

The glass that is his mind seems filled to the brim with the poisons of guilt and indecision. It turns on him, looming large and threatening.

Now in comes the Tarasque, “right, are you going to stand up to this obnoxious arse?” he says, pointing to the monstrous glass.

The Man steps up, he knows it’s right. The bell strikes, and the Tarasque shouts


Fight Scene

It’s a six-shooting renegade hard man
A barrel, a lion, a desert, a storm
It’s dynamite rolled up in thunder
With flesh eating lazers for arms
And you’re just a twitch
and a flea bite
A speck on the rug
and a drop from a pore
With miniature fists
just like protons
Facing grievous bodily harm

Try put it back in perspective
No clash of the titans
or underdog yarn
It’s really just you and a pint glass
So let’s have a wee bit of calm
Get in the ring, get your gloves on
Approach your opponent
with caution and care
Feel the right moment caress you
Then strike him
from foot up to hair


Well the man who was jeered
He was jeered no more
He roundhoused his weakness
Which fell to the floor
The sloth and the speed freak
That battled within
Were rolled in a ball
And then thrown in the bin
Everything was spacious
Graceful and clear
Lacking attacks of panic and fear
He picked up his coat
Said goodbye to his friends
And this is the point where his
Story now ends.