Glamour Profession

by Ian Deaton

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released November 15, 2016

Written, Recorded, Mixed and Mastered by Ian Deaton at Palazzo Belvedere 2015-2016

Mac Mini
Alesis SR-16
Yamaha PSR-E423
Epiphone Les Paul
RG-120 Amplifier
Shure SM-57
Behringer, Boss, Dod
& Electro-Harmonix Effects
RCA Hi-Fi Stereo VCR



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Ian Deaton Atlanta, Georgia

Film composer, born in Kansas City, MO. Works and lives in Atlanta, GA.

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Track Name: Janitorial Howl
the grips of frustration, city blocks are blenders of our wasted days, everything we make and mold falls down, plastic powder is part of the water, choking in a tornado of dust.
Track Name: Madonna Sequence
take yourself out nightly, fill your eyes up with dreams, rot on a cushion of foam, ride the waves of defatted cream tonight.
Track Name: Fete Hound
welled up tears and clenching lips boiling over with selfishness, mute your mind, stay up all night and snort 'til light, beat your fucking heart into a weak mess, begging for a hit of true existence.
Track Name: Traffic Dream
climbing up this wall made of spite, with the daytime nodding through light, I feel the sound of lungs screaming for no one, jilted divers and lights that die, when the cleric loses his sight, knife blades shine on through restful nights, brain is pounding, blood is freezing.
Track Name: Glamour Profession
advertisements and others lives get stuck deep within my new tights, bash them out, scream full mouthed, proving who'll be a glamorous louse, hours and days of conceited ways, proving the best, biggest tits, hardest dicks and two smiles full of shit, hands on hips, squeeze those lips as the Botox causes infection.
Track Name: Beach Drifter
cheap plastic clocks spill from wells as a wave of bird shit swells, on the shore my face is burned, caked in salt, the highway churns, broad sports fans, luke warm vans, don't give up on your stupid dream of being a wig wearing TV screen.
Track Name: Alphabet Ride
fuel for the heart of an abstract time, when tears and sweat aren't worth a dime, pull your organs out, pack them full of doubt, my arms and wits don't weigh enough, I got thin skin, my eyes aren't tough, I'm just an animal who uses letters to make hallucinations of something better.
Track Name: Desire Addict
"wait for me" she breathed in my ears, and the spokes they'd explode right now, the wheel of a shining hunter waits to fulfill an hours worth of night sweats and spit, we'd dig up nights and clean up days and call the cops when she was dazed, ramble and tamble your night into dreams as I write and I beg and I fucking plead.
Track Name: Dote Hypoxiation
I just got rid of rot, told my hands to take a shot, dripping spit caked to gloves, staring at a face in love, the licking of rent straight out of the mouth when a shuddering offer makes the crash count, old cops worship and weep a silent badge ripped from the deep.
Track Name: Der Fan
touching empty air hitting the ground, like a running wound full of sounds of tightening leather, don't let me catch you out after dark doing what I think you're gonna do, right now, jealousy for a non-existent lover, an image, a sociopath who will fall in love and not kill.