1. |
Pockets & Hoods
05:05
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She's waiting
On the curb.
Stands tall and defiantly
Pockets and hoods.
We'll meet you
halfway there
One week
from the day
after
tomorrow
What do you say?
Everything's five years;
Everything's five years;
five years too fucking late.
Rooftop views; air conditioning units
Hip flasks and hiding fast
Never ask about accents
It's a pointless parenthetical
An afterthought with a
bitter taste
Always take the stairs
Too much uncertainty
In elevators
Yeah
In elevators
Stand tall and defiantly
Pockets and hoods.
"It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I did not know what I was doing in New York"
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2. |
||||
Here's the rules to the game;
Live life like we're still eighteen
And there's more than one thing
a borrowed, black, hooded sweatshirt can mean
She says "do you get it yet?"as we're smoking the last cigarette
I say it can't be half bad
if it makes you smile
And we got it all figured out,
A life without apologies, a life without doubts;
He says "trust me, I'm a technician"
And it can't be so strange, with the lives we're constructing…
So do you think you're ready?
To leave it all?
Yeah I think I'm sick
It just drags you down
So you really ready?
To leave this town?
I'm in it, man
If I can bring them all along
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3. |
Dirt And Yirgacheffe
04:12
|
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it smells like dirt and yirgacheffe
and I'm wondering why i haven't left
breathing it in like the crackle
of a clove cigarette
speaking in tongues;
drowning in gin
always thank the rythym sections
telephone rings communication crackles
"are we riding with mary?"
we're
all right
but we panic.
we're all right now
but we panic.
panic.
I'm in it for the frantic nature
worried about a girl who combs her hair
a bleeding lip and an awkward sort of stare
broken toes broken toes
As the years go by
I get stronger
carrying your ass up the stairs
A burgeoning sense of self dissatisfaction
Is this how we live?
I don't want to keep a thing from the world
But Burlington and I are having a breakup
Remember, no matter what happens
Always thank the rhythm sections
We can always make it up as we go along
She pulls up on a green laquered bicycle, I am leaning against the brickwork on a skateboard,Bracing myself upright with a cup of coffee
She tucks a long strand of brown hair behind her ear and smiles
I reach in my zippered jacket pocket for something of some consequence
and suddenly I am struck by the thought of laying in bed with the windows open and the shades drawn
not touching,
listening to Mission Of Burma and smoking a joint.
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4. |
Second Guessing
03:50
|
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"About this much", she said
As she holds my head
In the space between a thumb and forefinger
A quarter inch apart
And I try to explain the propensity
In the moment between breaths;
Smoke drifts over the table
I shut my mouth and hold my drink
And I'm certain conjecture will be the death of us
And I swear, conjecture will be the death of us all
Words fail so easily
Incomprehension makes an enemy
Concocting lexicons
That only exist within our hearts
My friend, you're still a heartbomb
Is your breathing still an art?
Caffeinated on your floor for a bed
Combing last night from the knots in your hair
And I'm certain conjecture will be the death of us
And I swear, conjecture will be the death of us all
She cuts a strange figure
I've got my hands on my hips
Shut up and drink.
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5. |
The Final Frontier
02:39
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Desperation;
A perfect mix tape
no road trips to take
Belly up on the carpet,
it hasn't stopped raining in thirteen days
And a fine layer of dirt
Separates me from the animals.
"Bastards Of Young" on the stereo
Over and over again
And I'm getting ready to ask you to leave
I'm worried about a dozen kids,
writing songs about weather
we're all stuck inside
stoned out of our minds
(Lord if I remember the second verse, I can not find these lyrics)
"God knows, We try to do it right"
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6. |
Road Trip
02:37
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there’s a note tacked to my door; scrawled in red ink
half an hour later i know the knock’s for me
the stars are out and the motor’s running
who are we to say no?
tell this town you love her before we go
we’re running to the sound of the radio
we’re leaving to the sound
stereo
‘times i’d do most anything; to take me from this place
i breath these streets
they know my secrets;
i wash them from my face
this town is old this town is over;
this town is my first love
i have to believe;
it runs through my blood
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7. |
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remember you’re beautiful when they say you’re not!
don’t let it break you or make you what you aren’t!
‘cause they can have our blood
but they can’t take our hearts
they can’t destroy what they can’t comprehend!
our hearts are still beating - do you think that’s a threat?
‘cause they can have our blood
but they can’t take our hearts
our hearts
are armed
every breath
every beat
is the sound of the springs in the mechanism
winding down
but i won’t let go
you can have our blood
but you can’t take our hearts
|
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8. |
Campaign Room
01:46
|
|||
the room lights up with cathode flashes
bombs burst in tape delay
love in a time of war
i wonder where you’re at
though it’s none of my business
love in a time of war
i wonder if my brother’s out there,
dying for these idiots
and i spit when the president speaks
there’s a protest out my window;
i feel guilty
i’m not going outside
read the paper read the paper
sit by the phone with my coffee
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9. |
||||
friday nightstuck in Mass.
stealing batteriesfor the boombox
in the back of the Escort
with the broken tape deck
two dirty punks
passed out cold
in the back seat
only ever wake to ask
"Are we there yet?"
Those were the days
The ones you always want back
Those were the days
You pushed 'em so far away
Now and then?
Who doesn't fear change?
We're afraid of getting caught
looking back
Hey man, where's the show?
I don't think we're going to make it on a half tank of gas
Plan B: a parking lot and a cheap bottle of wine
Bumming for smokes,
this is a stupid joke
singing the same damn songs again
Hey man, I'm calling in sick to work
No, I'm serious this time
And in the end, It's always you my friends
And in the end
It's always you
(I mean this is for you)
Side by side, side by side.
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10. |
Blood & Chanel
05:54
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Fuck it
All uncertainty
You ought to know by now
What this means to me
And a bottle of wine
Is only substitute
For the cheapest of conversations
For the cheapest
of conversations
Black leather boots
Click click click
On the sidewalk
Keys to an automobile
What have we become?
And I can still smell
Old blood
and Chanel
In these old rooms
Spit up angels
while we work the angles
We're so confused
Spit up angels
Incoherent rambles
It's too obtuse
fuck it
lets have the self destruction of ego
because it's making me sick the ways things sit
and we burn bright
so bright
the only natural beauty of the gin in our veins
We burn so bright
We burn so fucking bright.
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