1. |
Bread Pitt
02:59
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An iron giant struts in fishnet stockings for the horde;
a succubus in tights.
They’re screaming for a place to rest.
I beg angst, “Keep me up all night!”
Take a look. Behold her dead wine, gold, and cold silk,
while my friends try to kill themselves.
They’ve been crying over having everything.
Her breasts are the minimum wage.
They took the life from the eyes of the working man.
He sits alone at the end of the bar and he drinks.
Do you see him? He drinks so damn slow
from the glass of cold comfort that’s killing him so.
Spit on me, world.
Piss on me, girl.
Because love doesn’t come in someone else.
Even if you come in someone else.
Love doesn't come in someone else.
It comes in paper.
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2. |
The Peak
03:52
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The static falling down around me is oddly isolating.
So come on, take a trip, get high with me.
I’ll show you how I stay warm.
Is this shaking from the pills or the snow?
Is it this nebula flooding Ontario?
‘Cause there’s nobody here but me.
This bloodied canvas is nothing until it’s seen.
We are the last crusaders oh, not knowing where we are.
We are the sourceless voices, setting fire to a forest that nobody can see.
Welcome to the black hole laboratory where we’d listen to the skin tearing off your ears if you could hear us all the way out here. Can you hear us all the way out here?
Or did we really tear our throats out already?
Because planets will form in this basement ballroom
as the neon rains on kombucha mushrooms.
It can get so cold alone in the snow that it burns.
It can get so cold alone in the snow that it burns.
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3. |
Sandwich Shop
01:59
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4. |
Kickflips Off Cliffs
01:24
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5. |
Aristocrat Leisure
04:06
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6. |
Ratchet Government
02:30
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We pay rent for an empty room. Where black clocks line the walls.
The rot spots on the ceiling melting the clocks like waterfalls.
The rust of your ambition like nails on the windowpane.
It whispers like squealing pigs, knock-knocking at your brain.
Crawling up these walls,
they're black from incessant scrawling.
There he sleeps on a bed of pens
He's been trying to describe a sound again.
We pay rent for an empty room. Where spectres pace the halls.
The rot spots on the ceiling melt the clocks like waterfalls.
So as I, make friends with the ghosts in my house,
They sing a misery song to me.
Now the ghosts and I are fucking each other as we all get excited to die.
I can’t seem to find to find the note to ease my sense of panic.
And I’m blessed with common sense but these chords don’t seem to stop this crying.
I guess I’m drinking anthrax because it gets me high
and I’m bleeding myself because I love that shade of red.
I’ve been staring at the sky for so long, I’ve gone blind.
But when the sun’s exploding, I want to be wet. from the waves crashing down on these fucking guitars. Have you ever heard whales like these? They're like a punch in the face as the rolling tide’s coming in.
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7. |
Pantsnake
02:22
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That close, she can smell his skin.
Like the stumbling of his steps, the stench creeps out of his crooked grin.
And she’s just trying to die gracefully.
To close the door to the out, she's got to let this filth in.
And I walk this wolf party.
We’re stalking the sheep but we see only holes.
No one here is as in love with your taint as you are.
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8. |
Renember
03:09
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*witches dancing*
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9. |
Ghost Fucker
02:40
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I see everything in ripples now.
It seems I’ve conquered a fear of heights.
But I can never get to sleep at night.
And I couldn’t tell you what my own face looks like.
A funny thing happened to me on the way to the grave.
I climbed so high that I got stuck.
And I never learned how to tell time, because I didn’t know what to say.
So I burned my clocks ‘cause they only count down.
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10. |
Tokiwa
04:28
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Girlfriend: And I just shot my boyfriend, he cheated on me.
It’s so fitting that he left another stain for me to clean.
Father: Downtown, I’m leaking through this crumpled steel.
Red and green don’t mean anything with seven angry voices screaming silently. I bet you’ve never heard a whisper shriek.
Daughter (The Prostitute): Who’s keeping everybody up tonight?
I’ve got a job to do, and it’s hard looking at your glassy eyes.
Student: Why won’t anybody sleep tonight?
I can’t light these matches with you on the corner staring at me.
Stop staring at me.
I promise you these ashes will look a lot like pretty snow.
Father: You heart’s alive but baby, what’s the price?
All: You haunt the earth but what’s the fucking point?
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Inhalants Toronto, Ontario
so while the sun explodes, I want to be wet from the waves crashing down on these fucking guitars.
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