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God Is Dead

from Love Island by Louis Brennan

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Limited Edition 12" lacquer cut LP with printed lyrics on black vinyl. A must have for aficionados of obscure pressings and future bargain bin enthusiasts, no doubt will change hands on discogs for ludicrous sums once I kick the bucket.

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Like a small record for your car stereo, if your car was made more than ten years ago

    Includes unlimited streaming of Love Island via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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lyrics

God is Dead

God is dead
A failed dialectic
An obsolete fairy-tale
For violent, vainglorious, dogmatic men
Who worship the tenets
Of pederast warlords
And celibate carpenters
Who Glorify Death

Yet at their behest
We’ll still issue apologies
Bargain our sisters’ and daughters’
Bodily autonomies
God is Dead

God is Dead
Now there’s an arms race to claim
The last unbroken vein
Before the opiate drains
From a knackered old works
And every infant messiah
Every dark skinned pariah
Is out in the desert
Playing at being colonel Kurtz

It’s a junket for jerks
So let’s wheel out the moderates
Pretend that our brand of insanity
Is somehow more tolerant
God is dead

So let us rejoice
Under the all seeing eye
Just click on the link
It costs nothing to apply
Kingdom or caliphate
It does not discriminate
It uses a part of the brain we evolved to survive
In the wilderness
Long before all of this
Fallacy got out of hand
Somewhere in the frontal lobe
It seems we can’t bear the thought
That we’re here all alone

God is dead
Dwelling in caves
The relics displayed
But the memory fades
Someone new’s on the scene
Building our image
With each new transaction
Guiding our actions
Through seven inch screens
We’re living the dream
From Silicon Valley
To Skibereen
Run a new flag up the masthead
God is Dead
God is Dead

credits

from Love Island, released October 28, 2022

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Louis Brennan London, UK

London-based Dubliner Louis Brennan is a singer-songwriter in the folk tradition. His folk however aren’t the field hands and travelling minstrels of yore but the repressed middle managers and ennui-ridden urbanites of late-stage capitalism. They populate tales of bad sex, drunk commutes and interpersonal claustrophobia delivered in Brennan’s cracked baritone, at times embarrassingly intimate ... more

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