1. |
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I remember, I remember the day
when hating you became passe.
it was around the end of fiscal '02
and the ROI broke out right on cue.
I remember, I remember the week
that Pitchfork's wanking became an antique.
it was right around then peoples' Molotov collections
failed to give all the cool girls ladyrections
Whoever said a poor workman blames his tools
never saw you lick your boss's boot.
we all signed on the dotted line
and everyone felt fine
My friends, I remember the hour
when they stopped up rifles with unironic flowers.
It was just about then you could get away with disliking
unburdened by illusions you'd change the world biking
That fedora killed the working class.
Maybe we'll talk if/when you stop shaking your ass.
I remember when we had things we could say
but they sold us our ghettos and it all went away
everyone felt fine.
everyone felt fine.
everyone felt fine.
everyone felt fine,
everyone.
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2. |
Written by the Victors
07:29
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I awoke the morning after my time machine-test
thinking "what should I do now?", trying to think what might be best
And then I thought..."I wanna be just like Jay-Z!
with all that music-money rollin' up to me!
Yeah, I'm going back in time
To make this fuckin' industry mine."
So, now -
I'm going back in time, and I'm gonna write all the songs
Do whatever genre's coming next, how could anything go wrong?
Gonna beat back Benny Goodman with a backbeat from bebop
Always on the cutting edge, baby I can't stopped
But it doesn't work, I'm sad to say, they're just not ready in this day
And at my lowest Benny came to me, and he said, "Why can't you see?
Great songs are written by the victors
Taking a culture's picture
Doesn't matter what the year is
You can't reverse-engineer this."
So now -
I'm gonna try again and I'm gonna buy all the bands,
Give that culture what it wants, with the buck stopping in my hands
Keep 'em on the straight and narrow, hit the bank with a wheelbarrow
tone down the experimentals for the sake of the residentials
But it doesn't work, I'm sad to say, people do too many drugs in this day
And at my lowest Leary came to me and he said, "Why can't you see?"
Great songs are written by the victors,
ignoring well-heeled tricksters
trying to make their money back
farming out the talent they lack."
So now -
I'm gonna try again, but there's really nothing left to run
Everything a click away, all the middlemen undone
what you want and what you don't are lifestyle accessories
so all the seams are showing 'cause you wear em right on your sleeve
so it doesn't work, no need to say, you can't reach everyone in this day
and at my lowest it came to me, and I said, "At last I see."
Great songs were written by the victors
but they were like quicksilver
universal can't be done
in a world of perfect personal fun
So now -
Nobody cares about Sarajevo's Roses.
Nobody cares that pain was only fear leaving your toeses.
Nobody cares the detective sings bedridden in the far west wing.
Nobody cares you don't feel strange, or feel anything.
Nobody cares it ain't no accident we're better off,
or you're set to inherit what i got.
Nobody cares that sorry won't make her stay or kiss her face.
Nobody cares who led you to this hiding place.
Nobody cares god's eyes are closed, just like yours.
Nobody cares that you wondered what we're falling for.
Nobody cares you're only here to fall apart.
Nobody cares about the weather report from your heart.
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3. |
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Addicts!
Raised on tasting beauty
everywhere but charity
ablating our pain
Oh, crabs!
Chasing our fixations
A bucket's worth of migration
in each bought-in brain
Oh oh oh oh, we're going pro on the farm team
Oh oh oh oh, we're all gonna live the dream
Regrets!
Craving commendations
eating consolations
a nightly novocaine
Merits!
Where's your gift economy
it never did nothin' for me
circling the drain
Oh oh oh oh, we're going pro on the farm team
Oh oh oh oh, we're all gonna live the dream
The business end of this cliche
keeping our interest for pennies a day
Say it with me:
I quit, I quit, I quit, I quit, I quit.
Artists!
Bracing for the eulogy
for what everyone wants to be
sparing to sustain
Sing us a song
altogether now, sing along
Oh oh oh oh, we're going pro on the farm team
Oh oh oh oh, we're all gonna live the dream
And if our love is really so great
for a dream of industrial promenade
And if our identity is really so small
why even bother at all?
Once more, with feeling:
I quit, I quit, I quit, I quit, I quit.
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4. |
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Sometimes I think about the struggle
The piss and vinegar kerfuffle
When I had to work so hard to get so little
went to bed feeling broken and brittle
and I wondered what my life was for
Every morning was a question mark
try anything to strike a spark
Do you remember not knowing
who was coming or going?
Before you knew better than to trust the humans
I remember too, man
But today it's hard to find new friends
Every meeting a question mark
try anything to strike a spark
Now you're the victim of your own success
got too good at cleaning up your mess
everything goes according to plan
and the snowflake melts in the palm of your hand
Do you remember the boredom,
cured when you made your own fun
Now the drip-feed of a new distraction
is the easiest reaction
to any kind of pause
As if to fight off some gathering dark
trying anything to strike a spark
Now you're the victim of your own success
got too good at cleaning up your mess
everything goes according to plan
'cause I convinced myself somehow that anything's better than
the worst kind of crime:
unstructured time
'cause my love is unlimited
but my time is not
I'm gonna gather up my loose threads
find my quiet in the peace in my head
till I'm the victim of my own success
get too good at letting go of the mess
turn around to find I'm back where I began
just keeping it together as best as I can
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5. |
Dystopian Nonfiction
05:48
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I, I, I am still reading your mail
So you, you, you won't ever shake this tail
Color inside the lines and we'll be just fine
Help me help you and we'll be just fine
I'm sending my love between your cell walls
and anywhere else the shadow falls
nobody cares if you fall apart
for the weather report from your heart
Can't you remember the good times we had
on the days when things weren't quite so bad
The circuit in your pocket, the bell around your neck
The little bird in my ear, don't worry I'll pick up the check
'cause we're in it together
till whenever
the day comes when you get too clever
when we'll reassess
your usefulness
for every time you thought you knew best
Did you think the sun wouldn't shine
On the day you became mine?
I read the stories as a how-to
Oh lord, if you only knew
There's nothing I don't see now
and I am still reading your mail
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6. |
Solipsist Lullaby
05:55
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I'll list who I think I'm fooling: all the fools named you.
back of the napkin like kneecapping, what's a boy to do?
Oh, let's dance like Hobbesian things.
Marionettes on DNA string.
The best thing I've got going for me: how bad people can be,
and how unlikely it might seem that that's just what you just might see.
I figured out you're all the same,
save for measurements and names.
Two fingers into the whiskey,
two fingers in your....evening, and
I'm leaking honesty,
things I've thought unconsciously:
This night started now years ago
with another woman that I wanted to know
she said “Coward, where's your pride?
no one likes a boy with a glass hide.”
Shall we dance?
So I keep my hands out of my pockets, and do just what I read.
Groom illusions, eat confusions, pray to god you're braindead
and you won't see the neurons misfire,
their confused reused desires.
Two fingers into the whiskey,
two fingers in your....evening, and
they taste like daddy issues,
delicious daddy issues.
Sleep tight, dear absentee.
‘Cause you're a scumbag, just like me.
But this night started decades ago,
with another woman that I wanted to know.
Inherited her hollow heart;
now I need you to play her part.
Standing in, standing in,
Saying love's not a synonym for fiction.
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7. |
Waterline
05:11
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Good morning to last night's hiding place
In the lately days, we're living lowercase
Wrote with rainbows that ran red at the end
until there was nothing where the target had been.
The wife Dopplers away
from the bottled bruises he gave her face.
All these people try to find
is a better way to lose their mind
He has a hard time coping
can't trust the shrinks to pry him open.
Gravity, weapon of choice;
as before, so is now.
And the string unwinds in a crystalcook time,
a better way to sharpen his mind.
But now he is floating in midair
until he hits the water
and only the meat is there.
Can't dance to the story, I guess it's just bad luck
the guilt hangover of killing sitting ducks.
Many like him, but this one is mine.
This one's at the waterline.
I sent you a letter today
saying all I could think of to say.
"I love you,
and I miss you,
but I am too weak to heal.
So I'll spare you watching me fail."
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8. |
. . .
00:30
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9. |
No Year's Resolution
03:11
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I like the part where they struggle the best.
I like the part where they made progress.
I liked when the meek inherited the earth
Even if I know what that story's worth.
I like the way things came to a head.
I liked when the villains ended up dead.
But I'm kidding myself and have to admit
as metaphors for life go, it's bullshit
Taking my mind off my discontent
with a little bit of wish fulfillment
Hit the bar with my friends to enjoy my life
Looked up a recipe and made dinner with the wife
and it was really great, but I felt a weird guilt –
is this too quiet a life to have built?
Have I steered my life wrong?
Nothing I've done is worthy of a song
But I'm kidding myself and have to admit
I'm lucky my problems are basically bullshit
Daily life's such a nonevent
without a little bit of wish fulfillment
I'm sorry you were raised by some overlit sitcom
but a guilt trip's not the way that you should try to make amends
sincerity might save you from a cynic selling stories
that there's any real-life ending that could ever taste as sweet
Turn the page, turn off the screen
and maybe you'll see what I mean
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