Music Video

Dangerous Liaisons
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Cameron Picton
Cameron Picton
Bass Guitar
Geordie Greep
Geordie Greep
Electric Guitar
Morgan Simpson
Morgan Simpson
Percussion
Ife Ogunjobi
Ife Ogunjobi
Trumpet
Joe Bristow
Joe Bristow
Trombone
Kaidi Akinnibi
Kaidi Akinnibi
Tenor Saxophone
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Cameron Picton
Cameron Picton
Composer
Geordie Greep
Geordie Greep
Songwriter
Morgan Simpson
Morgan Simpson
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dani Bennett-Spragg
Dani Bennett-Spragg
Engineer
Luke Glazewski
Luke Glazewski
Engineer
Marta Salogni
Marta Salogni
Mixing Engineer
Max Goulding
Max Goulding
Producer
Sarah Register
Sarah Register
Engineer

Lyrics

As a farmhand I had No aversion to killing But to murder a man in cold blood Was something entirely different One dawn, one spring One man came to me Out of tire screech Of a black MG Dark-clad, upright, emaciated, lips curved He said, "My friend, would you like to make some cash tonight?" "Some people really are awful," he said "This you can't deny" "Some people are as useless as lids on a fish's eyes" No pistols, no blades Strangulation was how it had to be He could depend on the strength of a man of manual labor The perfect idiot for his need Persuasion-wise, he had a real gift Temptation had me by the balls He sold me a dream, and I fell in For no reason except I'm a fool To sign away eternity with one stroke A blind greedy hoax, the joke of all jokes I'll tell you for free It wasn't like a pig's squeal! Job done No word from anyone I scour the pool halls, the strip bars, and casinos No man was skinny enough to vaguely resemble my friend who said Who said, "We'll meet at The Queen at 8" Ten grand in your pocket, don't be late" No sign of the black-clad gang man Front page news: "Random killing" "No gang affiliation, no mob justice" "Murder!" To see the bruised neck I wrecked, immortalized in print A circle opened from the black and white picture And my search for that face was complete He climbed out the page and shed his skin Revealing the red king This was no mafioso, this was Satan himself True evil, the stench of an unknowable wealth "You're coming with me, son" The cries, anguish, torment The shame, pain, heartache, suffering, futile regret!
Writer(s): Morgan Simpson, Cameron Overeynder, Geordie Greep Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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