1. |
Vagaries & Cemeteries
05:15
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mona lisa, couched unseemly in your coffin, slowly rotting, who would lift you from the burdens of daughters?
I've been talking with a wistful little birdie of a girl he knew in winter and by summer forgot her
paid for in triplicate, faithless and unintimate
sheltered in the catacombs, tender as an atom bomb
makes for such a hard line for these protoplastic and photographic eyes
after the fallout, you will find us somewhere in between the vagaries and cemeteries
fornarina, where've you been to in your journeys to be burning that very bridge you're stranded on, to be buried in water?
I'll be watching from the window, softly curtained, til our fortune be delivered on the backs of our fathers
paid for in triplicate, faithless and unintimate
sheltered in the catacombs, tender as an atom bomb
makes for such a hard line for these protoplastic and photographic eyes
it's not a problem, it is not a problem anymore
now that we have found our disease
waiting for sunrise
dawning in our eyes
satan's paintbrush coloring the skies of our demise
patiently prodding our paltry hearts
paid for in triplicate, faithless and unintimate
sheltered in the catacombs, tender as an atom bomb
makes for such a hard line for these protoplastic and photographic eyes
we are the product of a misconstrued reality
now that we have found our disease
festering way down in between
the vagaries and cemeteries.
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2. |
Kickin & Screamin
03:52
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a junebug will ceaselessy circle and suffer the streetlamp
mistook for the moon by its radiant shimmering light
he'll flitter and fly to the end of his days where the shell of his body will rot in decay while we're kickin and screamin our way to the end of the line
your hard little mouth only chews on the cud of your fathers
while sympathy dribbles out only to soil your shoes
so take my advice and swallow it down if you value your life you'll get out of this town there's no room for an arrogant prosyletizer like you
sinful, sunny hours did hole our shit away
rolling in the alleyways over and over and over
tell them we are shadows, we are footprints in the rain
wait until the operations over, you'll be sorry yet
you tear from your shirts to make flags to be waved against winter
while demanding for someone to pay for what never was owed
so always be mindful of all that you say and be ever so careful that one of these days you don't find yourself walking the opposite side of the ro-o-o-o-oad
we'll crawl in the garden
nestled in our sins
where the light is cruel to
ivy-speckled skin
sinful, sunny hours did hole our shit away
rolling in the alleyways over and over and over
tell them we are shadows, we are footprints in the rain
wait until the operations over, you'll be sorry, though hardly yet.
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3. |
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from the mouths of babes to the ear of god
we are bound at the breast, in the arms of the flesh
in the twilight of certain death
in the penny arcade, in the year of aught
was a man of his word who would surely be heard
through the din of the porters' shouts
from a southbound train, flattened into nothing
for the morning's poison had killed me
over and over again
say that it can't mean something
crucified in art, with a hot-blooded start
in the coals of a burning heart
agnes day, the starlight hath cured me over
to find nothing more than opera suiciiide
hallowed today, and it hides round the stage of a sower's pot
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4. |
Parallax
03:49
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too small to validate existence
too big to fall between the cracks
too faint to calculate its distance
and journey home by parallax
and when the saints come crawling over
we like to think that we're the only ones
but i can feel the anchor coming up from below
all hard and twisted, circumscripted, on and on and on and on
and complications vanished right before our eyes
in conversation, we're all but high and dryyyyy
pogo hammertoe, don't forget your overcoat
toss me in the water, let me catch it in the undertow
someone's burning up our effigies, sending all the refugees
flying to the darkrooms, screamin bout
nazis, prophecies and socrates' philosophies
and we're left teary-eyed and crying out our sad little hearts.
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5. |
The Gondolier
03:34
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futilely fighting a foundering, the gondolier
is constantly pouring out buckets full of borrowed tears
as each one is emptied, another is waiting
to drag his old boat to the bottom
yesterday marching down national boulevard
couldn't help feeling like napoleon blown apart
everyone's shouting, but i cannot hear them
the space between us is too hollow
and now i'm living for nothing,
or at least that's what i'll say
cause love is a chemical treason
and all my friends are pulling for me
each and everyday that i'm stuck in this idiot season
where everyone's gathered together and
waiting for me in the century garden
possibly, my heart has already known
my vessel is flawed
tossin me out into these waters alone
to howl at the gods
all revolves on the golden wheel
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