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1. |
Coke on the farm
02:58
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They tell me that their lives are different now, but they can’t say how.
They worry about their fame and their noses, their mothers’ glaucoma, the war in Sudan.
If only I could give them another chance at a spring romance.
It’s going to be the wedding of the year, read all about it here.
Roses and tears!
Once you’re up, you’re going down, anyhow.
Once you’re at the top, there’s nowhere but down.
Things will be different. We’ll move to Richmond.
There’s no coke on the farm.
We’re gonna raise alpacas on the lawn and keep the plane in the barn.
Things will be different. We’ll move to Richmond.
There’s no coke on the farm.
We’re going to raise a chapel in the entrance hall, nearly twelve feet tall.
Once you’re up, you’re going down, anyhow.
Once you’re a the top, there’s nowhere but down.
Nineteen, I swear I’ve never been so clean. Nothing up my nose, nothing up my sleeve.
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2. |
No Joe Strummer
03:25
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A hard time, when format-borne singers make off with the winnings, and Mother Earth has her blouse down. No Joe Strummer to turn up the summer. If revolution doesn’t have a hit, how can you dance to it? I was hoping you’d keep my heart warm. Cause at the end of the day, you need a friend anyway, an old familiar song. Someone who will speak his mind, when minding is advised. Old Philoctetes here, he only has his fears. But one chance, it ain’t enough.
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3. |
Monocle
02:01
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We ate rump steak in Johannesburg. We took pictures of the Maui surf. And Mount Fuji, it never looked so pure. We ate rump steak in Johannesburg. We spent so much time searching for a cab. We still had to take the A-train out. The best bourbon and the best barkeep in town. The one tailor you should visit in Milan. Five tips on how to choose your body balm. The best bourbon and the best barkeep in town. We spent so much time searching for a cab. We still had to take the A-train out. Slippers from Japan, in-flight storage bags. Would you like to share a story?
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4. |
Imogen
02:44
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Imogen, you’re out of frame again. So pale in the party lights. I forgot how to try. I hear the camera make its sound of release. I see a woman throwing shapes on a screen. She winks an eyeliner eye. You dance to Mumford and Sons, I make my way to the bar. I meet your friends and they seem alright. They stumble blindly into starless night. We leave our coats and head out. You tell me doctors never show you their grief. You claim that Russian has no word for relief. Somehow I know that’s not right. I catch a cold, you dye your hair, we meet again on theatre stairs. And I can’t help but pretend, this is how stories begin. I don’t know what I was thinking, Imogen.
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5. |
If not the heart
04:23
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There is no country to speak of. But perhaps we could find a common arena. Perhaps it could be love. So bring your bow tie and your matching set, your bedroom voice and your castanets. Leave your bonds stacked by the door if you like. There is no future in our Union, so you shouldn’t feel bad about your contracts and your bullion. All that ink will just dry up. So leave your cool eye and your thinking cap, your boardroom voice and your bayonet. Swing your hips for another kiss. Ships, trains, cars and airplanes, huckleberry friends. If not the heart, what will lead you? A tender mind?
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6. |
A better deal
02:41
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Don’t grant me what I’d like to hear. Just spare me from the truth. When a million things are likely, some certainties take root. I belong to you, you belong with me. If your feet don’t run, we can disagree. A courtship, like a cloud of smoke, has many different shapes. I prefer to think of ours as the mist that clogs the bay. To wake up feeling rested, to strike a better deal: the things I want are simple, they slip beyond the real. I belong to you, you belong with me. If your feet don’t run, we can disagree. Spoken from afar words can hardly ring. Would you mind leaning in?
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7. |
The nights
03:40
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The nights are the worst alright. The nights need a little light. So I started building a fire from the lawn chairs. Tempting the day with a dawn. The nights are the worst alright. The nights need a little light. Sometimes I fear summer will never come. Another night, another way to burn. Take me to the morning, never let me roam. Come on and take me. Starlight, starbright, you’re the first star I see tonight. I wish I wish on a satellite dish.
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8. |
Most scared
02:07
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I’m most scared. I believe he’s dead. I like the Kinks and the smell of summer. He likes the dark as dark as can be. Blood on the walls, blood on the chalkboard, blood on the country section A to D. I’m most scared. I believe he’s dead. Behexen says: no need to worry. Behexen says: you won’t be sorry. Your past, your pain and all your worries, he’ll eat them up, so dance. Let’s dance!
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9. |
Banana brown
03:29
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It’s springtime and I notice cause everybody’s nesting but the two of us. From my bench I can see the park filling up with lovers, filling up with whispered words and stolen hearts. What about the Romans? About the Roman wars? Conquered all the land, started to believe and let the whole thing drop. Anything can turn banana brown. Just give it time. Anything can turn banana brown. But I like you a lot. It’s springtime and I notice cause everybody’s nesting.
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10. |
Is there now?
04:39
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Is there now, or will there ever be, a language to express what you want from me? Should I wait for meaning to escape, while you pout over your blueberry cheese cake? My friend Juliette is like a book that doesn’t shut. Nothing ever happens unannounced. But you are like a score of sullen sighs and semaphore. A wordless scene. What does it mean? It seems there’s nothing that you wanna share. Believe me honey, that ain’t fair. It seems there’s nothing that you wanna do. Well as a matter of fact, I’m through with you. My friend Juliette is like a book that doesn’t shut. Nothing ever happens unannounced. But you are like a score of sullen sighs and semaphore. A clouded dream. What does it mean?
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11. |
Which pocket
05:44
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Off the bench. Off the bench and on my knees and then … She said no before I even asked. In a minute I might ask her again. We don’t match. I know I know it. Hopping like a sarus crane on an empty Ganges plane. I can’t dance, have no sense of romance, but I’ve got a ring burning in my pocket. Tell me why and I’ll tell you which pocket. Hopping like a sarus crane on an empty Ganges plane.
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