1. |
Scarecrow
02:23
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I'm an empty beach. I'm a Saturday. I'm the opposite of impassable. I'm a scarecrow. No, I'm radical. I guard this field of marigolds, because I'm an infallible watchman.
I played a game of impromptu tennis with my dream girl. She beat me best of three. And I watched a bear destroy salmon on Youtube. It reminded me of me.
Lots of good-looking people like horror movies and foreign films, and lots of peculiar people go to camp in our National Parks. And lots of horrible people fill the places in between. And the canaries in the coal mine are going insane.
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2. |
Cotton Month
03:02
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The moon waxes and wanes, and I feel the same way too. Sometimes it's fireworks, and sometimes it's blue. Don't you feel that way too? I'm having a cotton month. Everything's soft, and nothing's rough. I'm having a rotten month. I feel evil, and I feel tough.
So giddy up slouchers, and pass around the mouthwash. We're wrapping up this Pentecost and heading toward a renaissance. And I'm just waiting until my memory fades again and lightning strikes my head.
The sun rises again, and I feel the same way too. Sometimes I'm bright, and sometimes I set. Have you felt that way yet? I've finally forgotten myself.
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3. |
Let's Hum
02:27
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You’re so photogenic, but you do terrible things to your wonderful body. The body’s a temple. You work so hard just to stay narrow. The Parisian dream is straight as an arrow. Black and white and an accent color, fashion is passion and passion is murder. You have so much. You’re blue and you’re lush. Your shoes and your clothes, your gold dust. You combust. You wonder what is up with this stuff. Why are you acting so goddamn American random?
Cold is blue and hot is red. You were an indigo child, now you’re laying in bed. And you’re kissing a twig, and drinking some gin, and talking about a dream that you had: you had found your way into a secret garden and the vines and the flowers they carried you up to a perch in the trees where flocks of birds sang and clouds of waves brought the sun down to us. Why are you acting so goddamn American random?
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4. |
the Wind (Set Me Free)
03:29
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Like a caterpillar rolled up in cocoon, we bloom. Easy comes and easy goes. The wind it howls; the wind it blows. Rivers of water destroy mountains of stone. Like a lungful of breath tucked up in your chest, you flex. Once you chill with them, they start to...
...mountains compress to gems. The wind blows over castles. The wind blows over cannibals, and glides over savages, and glides through the glamorous, and makes love with the ocean, and touches things you won't. It explores the Galapagos and washes over Europe.
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5. |
Hard Boiled Babe
02:19
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Hard boiled babe, why do you act that way? You’ve got me feeling lower than a coffin in a grave. Can’t you drop me a line, like a noose from a tree? Like mascara from your eyes as you massacre me. Crystal clear visions of clever girls and above average brunette hurdlers cloud my vision nocturnally. Yeah, dreaming only makes me feel lonely.
Hard boiled babe, how could I let you go? You slipped from my hands, like an arrow from a bow, but if there’s something still alive, then let’s play Frankenstein. And I’ll be the lightning, and you can be the knife. Figments of women moving mountains by knitting together the trees and the sky. And millions of men go fishing by casting lines to hook your soft boiled eyes.
Hard boiled babe drinks a mimosa. She never does what she’s suppose to, but that’s all right. No one ever gets mad. When you look this good, who cares if you’re bad?
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6. |
Ellice (the Cyclist)
03:05
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Like an acrobat on the flying trapeze, that's the way the cyclist was. Dying of thirst and chugging her knees, that's the way the cyclist rode. And she loved her and couldn't help but thinking: “If she was off by an inch, it would all be done.” Come on Ellice, pedal the pedals! Cross the finish for the gold medal. Your legs move like a machine: “Stay safe. Godspeed, my sweet.” And she loved her and couldn't help but thinking: “I ride this race for you. You know I do.” I pedal my bike above the road. I watch you ride from the sidelines. I see your face. And I see you glide. I'll see you at the finish line
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7. |
the Future
02:17
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Falling quickly to my knees I plea, “Dear God, may the future never catch up with me.” If possible I'd like to maintain the curious, sight-seeking mindframe that keeps me puttering along, because I've been living really well. Come on, let's move to California. Isn't that where all the cool people run? There's only one problem: I'd miss the autumn and the way the leaves change.
The future is coming to get you. You better be ready. The future is coming.
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8. |
Altar
02:22
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Don't disparage the king or embarrass yourself. The weight of this cross can stand by itself. Cousin, I'll light the candle, you just stand still. The congregation is starting to catch on. I heard a rumor that no one gets our humor. The bishop starts barking and my laughter's like a tumor that I can't calm down. The sound of these psalms now sounds like a static sea of stale philosophy.
Mary was a bad girl and everybody knew it, kept a pint of rum inside her velvet jacket. A cut throat king pin of the fashion racket, tie a rope round your waist so you will always come back.
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9. |
Isolation
02:54
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Isolation is an easy trick: find something and walk away from it. I’ve got a minor brilliance. I’ve got a tiny skill set. I feel like a nuisance talking to my own friends. I’ve got a hundred million ideas that are brewing. I’ve had luck and fortune, and I’ve felt really stupid, but isolation is an easy trick. Don’t call me up. I don’t give a fuck. You’re shit out of luck and a little bit drunk. I tried enough to rise above and stay tolerant of this joke you call love. I’m a hermit because the person I was was a cynic at best and a stick in the mud. Here all alone on this island of one, I go to sleep late and wake up when I want.
I’ve got a dozen reasons. I’ve got a hundred secrets. And I’ve got all these songs that I write weekends. And I’ve got a couple great things, and I’ve got my big weakness: that I love my isolation.
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10. |
Wax Off
02:31
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I heard you whisper something really witty, but everybody missed it, everyone at the party. I thought, “Hey, maybe I should be romantic.” So I took out a pen, and I wrote you an album.
This could be the start of a new story:
A song for your eyes, a song for a kiss, a song for the night over your apartment.
This could be the end of all our worries.
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