1. |
Strawberry Moon
02:52
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I was styrofoam
Packing peanuts composed my soul
Then I saw it —
Strawberry Moon!
I was pickled fish
In the darkness of the wintertime, I was your dish
Then I felt it —
Strawberry Moon!
No way and no how could I break free
before Strawberry moon rose over me
Cacti and blackthorn bow and retreat
from Strawberry Moon's apogee
From Strawberry Moon's apogee
10,000 miles high
Orbiting a planet whose time is nigh
And we're going to
Strawberry Moon
Punching in for petty crimes
Always gave my donut to the bigger guy
Now custard flows all night
on the Strawberry Moon
No way and no how could I break free
before Strawberry Moon rose over me
Footpad and flatfoot make love in the street
as Strawberry Moon bloods the sea
As Strawberry Moon bloods the sea
I was an inverse square
the bigger I grew,
the less I cared —
Can you help me, Strawberry Moon?
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2. |
Where Is Home
02:59
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Feels like a hurricane
is running through my brain
Round, round, and round
(Lights shining signals above me)
Who am I and who are you?
Permanent markers of truth
No, no, no
(Little by little, you judge me)
Just when I think time is up
All my doubt is drowned out
by the sound of your footsteps on the pavement
On the pavement
Only my fingers weep —
Melancholy on repeat
over and over again
(In record time, broken-hearted)
This changes everything
and yet it changes nothing
Et cetera, et cetera.
(Full circle, back where we started)
Just when I think time is up
All my doubt is drowned out
by the sound of your footsteps on the pavement
On the pavement
Where is home?
When are you coming home?
Where is home?
When are you coming home?
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3. |
My Parasol
04:30
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You got so much but you want more
I caught your butler hanging round my foyer
His white gloves rifflin' my accoutrements —
I welted his bum with the shaft of my riding crop!
If I was a judge, were I a jury
You'd be in the hoosegow, mincing your story
to a one-eyed lout with a face like a shillelagh
And I'd be kneeling in the nave,
and here is what I'd be praying:
Keep your dirty mitts off of my parasol
My lacy tassled sunshade does not fancy being hassled!
It's my parasol,
the dapper whapper of my hall
It's my parasol,
the toast of rusticated balls
It's my parasol,
the Lord Protector of my bald spot
My parasol!
Get your quisling claw off of my parasol
Unclench that tentacle off of my parasol
Unclench that tentacle
So the king bestowed his accolade
on a haughty knave in plundered brocade?
But if you march through my pergola,
I'll smite your knob and plant you twixt my topiary
If I were as lordly, and gasconading
I'd enucleate your portraiture and hack your banking
I'd fell your orchard and curdle your gravy —
And if you cry for clemency,
just hearken the angels proclaiming:
Keep your dirty mitts off of my parasol
My lacy tassled sunshade doesn't fancy being hassled
It's my parasol,
for farandoling 'round the mall
It's my parasol
for dog-day caterwauls
It's my parasol,
really quite useless in a squall
My parasol
Wipe that curdled slaw off of my parasol
Unclench your tentacle off of my parasol
Unclench your tentacle!
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4. |
Late for Work
04:02
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I saw xenomorphs in cargo shorts
at the Moustache Mercantile
Posing with their Yeti coolers and guesstimating
how much cubic human they could fit in
for the wormhole journey home —
Gotta pack gifts for every squid or be burnt alive
in the Forge of Zarfan
It's not your usual jam
No, I'm not extenuating,
You just asked, so I'm explaining
That's why I'm late for work
That's why I'm late for work
I know it sounds just like a plot
but I was there and you were not
That's why I'm late for work
That's why I'm late for work
I know I put you on the spot
but I almost became a flesh croissant
I detoured for a power drink to carbonate my stride
but when I popped the top a thousand rabbits spurted high
They said, "We are the lagomorphs of fertility,
and you have been a laggard!
You've issued not, so we'll eat your soul —
Unless, by chance, perhaps, you might be packing carrots?"
I'm glad to say I did possess them, my pagan shield of vegetation
That's why I'm late for work
That's why I'm late for work
I know you are a skeptic lot
but I lived it and you have not
That's why I'm late for work
That's why I'm late for work
Step aside you tater tot
or you might get the luck I've got
You can't fire me, cuz you've got no grease in your spoon
That's why I slide in at noon
You've got no grease in your spoon!
Jumped aboard Cap Metro and squeezed between a crew
of furloughs from the halfway house with matching neck tattoos
If you're halfway home from the halfway house,
are you then three-quarters home?
We did the math and shared a laugh
and read each other's poems
That's why I'm late for work
That's why I'm late for work
I know I tend to lose the plot
it's only 'cause I care a lot
That's why I'm late for work
That's why I'm late for work
Wind it down, Sir Clock o' the Walk,
you sunless dial, you tepid pot
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5. |
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I was styrofoam
Packing peanuts composed my soul
Then I saw it —
Strawberry Moon!
I was pickled fish
In the darkness of the wintertime, I was your dish
Then I felt it —
Strawberry Moon!
No way and no how could I break free
before Strawberry moon rose over me
Cacti and blackthorn bow and retreat
from Strawberry Moon's apogee
From Strawberry Moon's apogee
10,000 miles high
Orbiting a planet whose time is nigh
And we're going to
Strawberry Moon
Punching in for petty crimes
Always gave my donut to the bigger guy
Now custard flows all night
on the Strawberry Moon
No way and no how could I break free
before Strawberry Moon rose over me
Footpad and flatfoot make love in the street
as Strawberry Moon bloods the sea
As Strawberry Moon bloods the sea
I was an inverse square
the bigger I grew,
the less I cared —
Can you help me, Strawberry Moon?
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Bird Casino Austin, Texas
Among other things, we're the pop in popinjay, the wallow in swallow, and the grin in
peregrine.
Lydia Au:
bass, vocals
Jonathan DiMarco:
guitar, vocals
Garrick Jannene:
drums, vocals
Suna Wakem:
keys, vocals
... more
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