1. |
nuvoloso
03:48
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in the rain, late in the day, anna walks alone. mother tongue sleeps in her lungs, makes three beds at home. city bird saw the cloud first, brought word to the square. when i go, i know it's just to taste the air. it is loud, the living room crowd, friends i'm hiding from. there's a storm finding its form. a warm front will become. if i stay, would i see rain, is that what i want. when i go, how do i know. city bird, eye of the earth, have you seen a ghost. when i go, how do i know. city bird, tell what you've heard. is that feeling close. when i go, how do i know.
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2. |
old world
03:17
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if there is a heaven, it's this folded silver box. many friends are with me and we are each alone. you are looking younger everyday, by the day, time is a paperweight. heaven is an aisle away. are you downstairs fading in the waning afternoon. are you wont to follow darkly the click of the ticking news. there was a link to the forest that burned like eleven suns. the stars have folded over only old waves reach them now. waters of the old world boiling. the seas recede again. through the cracking screen, the new machines will drink of them. hear the new word breaking through the fog of the modern world. when you cross the threshold, prop the door with an orange peel. unplug the lamp in the evening. clear the fog with your leftmost hand. hang old words on the line to dry. freighted with the ancient questions. do wash your lips of them. we will break down every wall and be back again to rebuild and mend.
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3. |
pentagram
02:07
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waiting for a friend
to be etched into wax and sent
screaming cross country
baring small bones/wearing fall clothes
at summer's tail end
a telegram smile
a telephone call over ten miles
pleading for a buck
wishing on stars/pissing on cars
in chatham, cape cod
open heart words
mine the meaning in close-minded verse
a pentagram seen
forest is cleared/the lord has appeared
in pin-up girl drag
shatter yr tongues
lower a fist to the bottommost rung
sleep on the floor
curves in yr spine/lucy and wine
the death of the sun
highway by night
rattle drone in the glow of green light
the image is found
rolling black road/red as red goes
returning as white
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4. |
between
04:05
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are you waiting for all of the time spent reading and riding the lines to assemble itself as you like with clear meaning in spiritual light. you tell them you're so far from home. the truth is, you're close but alone. see, the river has tides of its own, pays no mind to the wide and wandering snow. in the morning when the sky stretches out between buildings and doubt, both built so high that we can't see the clash in the clouds...come on down. are you making your day through those thoughts that pull you away until you're lost. now the city is strange and you're caught between the moon and some plans you forgot. the ice has the sidewalk in sheets and voices slide down the concrete. if the ash has spilled onto your feet, walk on holy ground. in the morning, father time has grown tired from pacing all night. everything right looks sickening and strained in this light. there's no evening if you like, just a chance to give it all one more try. if your dreams are as mean as the sea then pay them no mind.
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5. |
bristol county
03:19
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6. |
lexicon
02:21
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weights and stone, signal of sand, color of sunset, dusk hour bones, howl and moon. thought and sound, money and sleep, hunting the seasons, you are the leaf, logo and lore. hear now the fine line at the bar's end where all recurring phrases tackle any street sense; trap of the past, sad refrain to bring back and the moon laughs. one grey laugh, seven left winds, comets like angels, overstayed, shells at the door. what we say, never the weight, so makes the burden, rosetta stone, snakes at the heels. see now the good times through a thin glass, ten am shine reminds the phantom what it needs back; rope with an end to link worlds again like they were when.
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7. |
legacy
02:06
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horizon hovers past the plaza, past the pizza parlors, past the pack rats in the metal boxes, packed to outlast, build to breed on this, our legacy of paranoia. past the sickly yellow glow of electric light where jersey belches energy. o, new york city, new years eve, you can feel it all and this is a local sickness, this sickness is important. this lighthouse overgrowth, what products do you sow. we drove we drove we drove. we will not drive again. forget it, keep us thinking there's a way out of this, our legacy of paranoia. if there is an enemy, it's whatever is keeping me from describing what i see when the long highway yawns across the ages and the malls echo silence to no one.
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8. |
heartwell
01:39
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my hair was longer then. my dreams were frozen when we met. voices resurface as memories and sink like a stone in my heartwell. i know that you're fine. there's hot water for two. i'm no pain in your side or flash in your mind.
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9. |
harbor
18:21
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