1. |
Clap Hands
03:48
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CLAP HANDS
We steal away, hands up, hands on our heels
We stitch our wounds, clap hands, merry go round
Raid the hot house, raid the hot house, clap hands, shoot from the hip
Hitch your skirt up, hitch your skirt up, draw heat, go up in flames
Let the hot air least you up and then the night up lays you down
We wear our smiles, hands up, like it’s a mask
We tear apart, clap hands, shot in the dark
Tinker with me, tinker with me, clap hands, bottle it up
The party’s in full swing and then the swingers pierce your heart
Hands up, clap hands, clap hands, draw heat
Hands up, clap hands, clap hands, draw heat
Let the hot air heist you up and like a balloon go to sleep.
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2. |
Love Still Tango
04:01
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LOVE STILL TANGO
Spiritual wonders
Trickle down your still
Keep me afloat
Enclosed in a glass dream
Of you
Imaginary lives
Are gathered by the gallon
To be drunk by shallow, chested debutantes
In the salon
But I’ll pour myself out
For you
It is a scary thing
To be misrepresented
To be honest with you
I never thought you’d flee
You’re not the one I thought
So you are safe with me
And the fire is purring
Like a cat on your lap
And blue flames are licking
The straightest part of me
Liquor is a sweet thing but love is sweeter one still
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3. |
Month of Marsh
04:12
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Month of Marsh
Tell only of what you can see,
Until you can see until, wherever it is that crack of dawn is.
I see, you took a dip in the swamps,
Dressed, with your gorilla bathing suit.
Now take my hand, step back.
Walk on the red keys on your xylophone.
Or play hide and seek, in your scientist outfit,
For I can see in all direction, just, like a strung up violin.
I'm a cymball rush in an orchestra,
But here are my two feet, here are my two feet.
And even there the lay is steep.
Now step back, into the month of marsch.
And sometimes, I felt unbearably light,
Like a silk dress,
Like the folliage under water.
And sometimes, I felt like being whoever else I was,
Like a seamstress, with a leather needle.
Or like my feet, marching on the ground.
And I stepped inside, the woods, and in and out of the city.
But then, I had, nowhere else to go.
And there was the sun, marching up to the skies.
I'm a cymball rush in an orchestra,
But here are my two feet, here are my two feet.
And even there the lay is steep.
Now step back, into the month of marsch.
The twin moons of marsh are not there.
If you just blink twice a day,
It's a childish answer,
To a childish question.
But here are your two feet, here are my two feet, here are your two feet,
Hopping a mile each time.
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4. |
Wayward Bell
04:30
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