Mafia Lights: ‘Spiriting/West’ E.P.

In the glitchy sink, some chick’s reverberating “Yeahs”  bounce off the cocaine-sprinkled porcelain. You raise your head to meet the gaze of your own psychotic pin-prick pupils in the mirror. You’re King of this City; Sure, you may enjoy a bit of a ruckus, maybe even half-inched the odd bit of clobber but you’ve got a good heart and you love your old mum. The Security Guards of London’s Lloyd building shake their chubby buzz-cuts in disbelief as you shamble down Lime Street looking fucking Top Dollar colossal, having arrived there at dawn following the ironically themed party you abandoned in Hackney…

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