1. |
Common Prayer
02:22
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Is there a god in LEO?
Pretend for me, friend or I’m gonna,
A shapeless, a real gotta dress up for this job
A golden in-state-call-to-the-girl-with-her-lights-on god?
Pretend for me, friend or I’m gonna,
I’ll wrestle your life out.
(And, all this common prayer
And, all these little guts)
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2. |
Michael's Heaven
04:07
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So, now the Pike kids and their brothers
Have a place to sue the man
Leonard Cohen was the matchman
But, Sir Francis was the can.
And, often enough it occurs that there can be
A spot without a place
But, real city and the dinosaurs
Letter #1 was all on taste.
Oh, dear Jesus and your captain
I guess I only want to drive
But, the streets they never go nowhere
And, I guess we all know why-
In a horrible crash it dies
Forever and equal all your love…
Look reek, books. Get a head on the shelf-
Bet the grain for meat.
But, runny guns and subtle plans let take the ghoul full away
Like no one but the best friend of the beat.
I know no one
Don’t ask me.
I know no one
Don’t ask me.
Like little bins of suffering
In the casket,
Let little beams in of the suffering.
Can’t get stuck.
Don’t escape.
I don’t know no one
Ask me.
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3. |
Long Kesh
02:55
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I’m going home I’m gonna fuck myself to sleep
I don’t get too far
I’m going out I’m gonna get my head sweet
I don’t get too far
I’m going home, I’m gonna dress up like a queen
I don’t get too far
Mom and dad, don’t worry, this ain't ’83 so
Don’t get too far
You gotta get yourself good,
You gotta get yourself good.
Thinking that you’ve seen the country
And the people reading On The Road
Your brother came back
From disaster- he done all he could.
I pray there’s always someone near
Or far for you to keep in prayer
Oh, my god I think I love you
What a perfect world.
You gotta get yourself good,
You gotta get yourself good.
My hands are dumb.
My hands are dumb too.
I got this good.
I got this good, too.
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4. |
All Y'all
04:03
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Oh, Worcester I can’t feel my friends or hands
And, it aint ‘cause the Winter or the parking job this time
It aint ‘cause we left after someone fought the sight too bad
Of the place, and like winners we got caught in the parking lot.
Or of scenery sets itself a lot- And, a girl’s drunk driving stick,
Or film school is always lame, or I guess I might be stable, cuz.
The scenery sets itself a lot-
And, a girl’s drunk driving stick
And, film school is always lame
And, I think I might be stable, cuz.
And, all y’all like children
And, all y’all like suicide
I will stay gone.
I will feel it for Christ sake if you don’t change me back into a man.
My one landlord’s my stupidest brother.
I won’t take from my sack full of hammers.
And, all y’all like children
And, all y’all like suicide
And, all y’all like children
And, all y’all like suicide
You raise chickens on abandoned farms
You like light in the morning and redemptive scars
To brave memory of the usual harms,
A flaming twat in the eye of Rah.
Oh, great giggle I would need you for all of the hope
You bring down from Methuselah.
Hey baby sink like stone.
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5. |
Sado-Catechism
04:13
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Learning to count to five
Setting yourself on fire
I'm alien skin-suit-fine
Becoming obsessed with time
Learning to count to nine
Setting yourself on fire, again
I'm alien skin-suit-fine
A kid in pieces on my floor.
Learning to count to five
Setting yourself on fire again
I'm alien-skin-suit-fine
Becoming obsessed with something wrong
Feel nothing
Fool no one still
And slowly fuck us up a sunset.
It may be long
It may be bitter
But, long is all you got.
It will be coarse and undeniable that you
Have missed your shot
Feigning winds can only brush across
And heavy set your lawn
The voice of god only contaminate
And, muddle up
But, as long as all we get
Is pain to get us over
Loss and heavy shoulders,
A cloak of reticence to heal our heart.
As long as all we get, as long as all we get
Is pain to get us over loss and heavy shoulders,
Lust to fill our holes up,
And a cloak of reticence to heal our hearts
As long as all we get is pain to get us over:
Loss and heavy shoulders,
Lust to fill our holes up,
The stain of a disorder,
A cloak of reticence too,
The falling arch of being underwhelmed.
Pain to get us over:
Loss and heavy shoulders,
Lust to fill our holes up,
A cloak of reticence too,
The stain of a disorder,
The only benefactor you can't burn down
The only benefactor you can't burn down
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6. |
Night Language
04:01
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Sealed and guarded glass is black.
Field of friendlies, no firing back.
The final cut in which the sneak of whiskey
Can forget or plant a guild of two birds
In one stone
No one will know.
Phone commands you put it down
Place beneath's a hollowed zone
Delivering the punch-line that the man
Can get too comfortabowl. Guild of two birds
In one stone no one will know.
You can take the knife between us and
Make light of it within me,
Seal our gut with putty and behind us make the chimney.
This old log, lack lust bull
Heart beat will go
House is shut- Sea of homes
No way to tell which one's got bones
A billion Saturdays to wash away
The thought of laying low a guild of two birds
In one stone no one will know.
You can take the knife between us and
Make light of it within me
Seal our gut with putty and behind us make the chimney
This old log, lack lust bull
Heart beat will go.
And, no one will know.
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7. |
Ash Tree
03:43
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And, just on the off chance that
There is no patron saint for never finishing a book
Then at least you and I will have
The undying pity of one another.
It takes two seconds to go from
Hungry to wondering how much you can get
For letting them use your mouth as a birdbath.
And, just on the off chance that there is
No patron saint for letting them use your mouth as a birdbath…
Lame, dumb, penny-hole the only useful head I see
On you can take the water out of wine,
Can make the rent correct a million times.
Lame, dumb, penny-hole,
The only useful face I see on you
Is crushed beneath the weight
Of laughter of a million averted eyes.
Fair enough the ostrich is deep and waiting
Faithful for the unmanned 'bgaw'
Gaining color as a relevant Tayone is gracefully to pass
The untrained desire to book it stuck
Inside children to eat
The envelope is full of peanut butter-
Peanut and butter- peanut and butter.
And, just on the off chance that there is
No patron saint for letting them use your mouth as a birdbath…
Lame, dumb, penny-hole, the only useful head I see on you
Can take the water out of wine,
Can make the rent correct a million times…
The only useful face I see on you
Is crushed beneath the weight
Of laughter of a million averted eyes…
And, just on the off chance that
There is no patron saint for never finishing a book
Then at least you and I will have
The undying pity of
One another.
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8. |
Crystal Meth House
04:07
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I, Queen and Barista
I still tummy tuck
I live at the Wembley
I love to fuck
Murder and gold light all but
Bones in my and your lover's hair
Still in a pill room dancing
[At least we Pwn]
[At least we Pwn]
[At least we Pwn]
I, Lady Paula married
Your sugar tits cop.
I live at the Wembley
And, I love to fuck
[I love to fuck]
Oh, little auger child these are not inside jokes
The only place I can't be honest to god
I don't care if we live in a crystal meth house that makes crystal meth
The only place I can be, honest to god
Little auger child these are not inside jokes
The only place I can be honest to god
I don't care if we live in a crystal meth house that makes crystal meth
The only place I can be, honest to god
Wanna live with your parents, with you
Wanna find us a place to get high
Wanna get in a fight in the bathroom
Wanna give up, and take your side
Wanna cower in fear of their children
Wanna tell you I did not but tried
Wanna follow the Thorns when they're winning
Whoa, it's so meat head.
Wanna fill up your car with my money
Wanna yell on the phone at the bills
Mea Culpa, the end of each day goes
Whoa, it's so meat head
Wanna stay in the garage where the day-glo ash tray is
But successfully hid
Wanna find out I loved someone other
Wanna come back, and say I want kids
Mea Culpa, the end of each day goes
Whoa, it's so meat head.
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9. |
16-Ton Joke
04:46
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A lot of y’all live at the college
A lot of y’all live at the CD
And, you love your pup
And call your pup your Sawyer.
We tall call y’all our southern pups
In a continental tug.
Oh, so stare at it son
And, it’ll all come clear so.
A dot com freak song on the ready
And thefallout as the excitement flies
I still love to fuck In spite all of these bi-laws.
And, still a lot of y’all live at the college
A lot of y’all live at the CD
And, you love your pup
And call your pup your Sawyer
Edoloco but, budge…
A lot of y’all start a feather circle
Or changed the lock to fit miracle
But, drowning silly has got y’all keyed
‘Cause the 16 ton joke still, still is funny.
And, all from the womb of ‘I’ll say something’
And, all from the womb of ‘show me your pay stub’.
Just stared at it son and it’ll all come clean
Just start it son, stare at it son ‘n tall come easy.
But, all y’all start a feather circle
And change the locks to fit miracle
Now drowning silly has got you keyed
‘Cause the 16 ton joke still, still is funny.
Edoloco but, budge…
What a tea leaf can tell
You have etched in your hand
A delightfully right
And misspelled appointment
And if you live on in vain
Like a grocery store clerk
I will act like we
Never went out.
But, if you die in a fire
I will take home your shirt
And I will try and not be mad
And, I will fake-forfeit.
And, if you drown in your vomit
You will make your mother sad
But, I will climb up your house
And put bees in a cup.
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10. |
Luck
02:44
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Letter to unintuitive get
Better mom or kill your kid:
They say we know where
All the coke comes from.
And, if they say that it is possible then, what
Of course it might.
But, all of course that leads to
Mountains full gadgets , space, and laugh
And, you laugh, and you laugh…
You went out to get your luck
In the old flat
But, the Still won’t come in.
You went out to get your luck,
In the old flat
But, the Still won’t come in.
You went out to get your luck.
A little Luck.
[Beer pong- like crazy!
One more- like crazy!
BMO! Like crazy!
Come on, one more- like crazy
Somewhere, like crazy.
Someone, like crazy.]
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11. |
Pine Barrens
04:11
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The dark can't see in a monster
Or a little girl see in the cult stuff of war
Or a man can see in a disaster
No, the dark can't see in a monster so far
And let you see- God, what's stupid?
I'd guess art walks.
You just say that I get your hard work right?
You guess "humans", then you just lay there.
Oh, god. What's stupid?
And, I don't know what's
Tossed salad got worth it now.
Ray Liotta steals your soul and
Lena Dunham pays the toll.
Because the Autobahn's a goal
This sucks.
Grab hold a tail within a bone.
Peel grapes, tell them it's a joke.
'Cause a grape's got skin and you do
This sucks.
Hate role play, and pretend you don't
In case they don't, and that's the joke.
Withhold a smile to provoke.
Oh, this sucks.
Wail enough to hear a soul
Answer your call within the dull
State of wherever you call
"This sucks".
Because a grape's got skin and you do this sucks.
Because a grape's got skin and you do this sucks.
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12. |
Body King
05:10
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If you would let him in then you already have
The devil whose home is in faking and trying.
A feeling of peace in a puddle of crud
Where even the fear that you cannot be better is read
One thing so hard:
There is justice in the lonelinesses of the livid and mean
One thing’s too hard:
There is kindness in the uglinesses of the reviled and seen
If you would let him in then you already have
Disciple of eating and drinking forever.
Twenty paces or nothing- it’s never enough.
Belong to the Earth, and tell me all that you love.
Lay prostrate in the overmuch air flowing up and bent
Hoquiam on my knees
Go crazy and kill yourself for bread and folly
A crow family I’m on my knee
One day for me you’ll grow a stub, a silicone weight
Bay for me a tiny ear
That grey goat in the overgrowth on a planet flatly
Bay for me a tiny ear.
You said that if we made it this far we would finally fear
Tomorrow everything, or at least day-old friends
Or at the least the young men, and the old drinkers
Or, at least enough to build a life
With somebody other than
Somebody other than somebody other.
A leviathan of crooked beams
Are we safe at all?
A barrage of filth and dill weed
Are we safe at all?
A cruel cough
A nightly towering
Behemoth of “forgive them all”.
Forgive them all.
You love an awful lot.
One is enough.
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Molly Shannon, Molly Shannon Portland, Oregon
msms are still sick. Hearts are frail. This body is a complex project. I don't want to work. I wish I never had to.
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