1. |
Shepherd Boy
02:42
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I am born above the ground
I am a rich tone
I am born above ground
I am a single note
I am blue blown
I am a deep pitch
I am the current beneath the waves
I am the song of a shepherd boy
I am a gunshot
I am the current beneath the waves
I am the song of the chosen few
(cloudless
endless
open
ended
upward
onward
skyward
and so on...
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2. |
The Moving Picture
02:09
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the moving picture begins
the calendar ends
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3. |
We Were Equal
03:04
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I had to nab it
graph it
flag it
track it
I watched it
contract...
convulse
I matched it
i had to;
we were equal
ungovernable
and fearless
i had to map it
graph it
flag it
track it
Waaatched it convulse and multiply
...but I digressed
I start over
I feed it a line
I begin it again
Sorting through this mess
Forgetting who is who
Sensing its agitated state
Its twisting lid
And who is me?
And which is it?
Oh,
who
is
who?
Oh,
who
is
who?
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4. |
Sing A Pleasant Song
03:08
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VERSE
Quintet bagged in a can-can backed with
a contralto saxophone
brandishing blemished modal
...a trinity of travesty
Fat strings spring and lash out
bowed vines 'round the screeching halt
instant collision
disconnected
trains
of
finite
intonality
scorned...
CHORUS
Sing a pleasant song (x2)
VERSE
The passing pedestrians spit scorn
.............and viral venom
The amputated musician shrugs and blushes
............What can he do?
He's tried the trap door
....it won't budge
the spittle's boiling his skin
this is where the track ends with his unfinished
business
BRIDGE
the last screech before they threw the book
is ringing out
the undetected reflection
is haunting the halls
the glass is clinking...
the last screech before they threw the book
is ringing out
the undetected reflection
is haunting the halls
the last screech sticks....
CHORUS
Sing a pleasant song (x4)
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5. |
The Church Bell Crumbles
01:37
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6. |
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there is a structure that is sound and
pure at the
root
there's a door at the end of the hallway
that I cannot reach
there's a building half-naked
and marked with a criss-cross
with symbols that commit it to
hell
there's a phantom family sighing
inside of its walls
the building's sinking slowly in the
flood
there's a charcoal drawing sitting
on the backseat of a bus
its image is distorted
its message is lost...
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