1. |
Punk To The End
05:06
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HEY HEY HEY
don't walk away
don't be shy
gonna make you laugh girl
gonna make you mine
come on babe
just loosen up
you're lookin fine girl
i don't do that stuff but
lemme give you a line
PUNK TO THE END
and i got the cred
vg+
come on over, listen to my records baby
come on over...here
HEY HEY HEY
don't you wanna dance?
you should see my moves girl
i may be getting older but
i'm not gonna lose
kids these days
don't know what it's like
get their PUNK for free
you don't understand girl
don't look at me
i'm a creep
i'm a worm
i am scum
my heart is a chewed-up piece of roadkill
i'm gonna give you some
hey hey hey
come on babe
don't walk away
take me home girl
i don't wanna be alone
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2. |
Inductor
03:45
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boom town
gotta keep the wages down
tourists
gotta keep the immigrants out
city...
city's full
the city is a garden is an eden is a sin
a white man chopped down all the trees just to let me in
perfection is a diamond is a crystal is a curse
a perfect corpse rotting in a beautiful hearse
perfection is a nightmare is a needle is a queen
you opened up pandora's box just to watch it bleed
wire me up
coil me round
tie me down
magnetize me
INDUCTOR
high rise all along the mountain side
landlords gotta keep that mortgage dry
small towns all just brooklyn now
shut down gotta keep it boring now
circle said to the square dressed up like a queen
that's the loveliest corner that i have ever seen
helvetica futura and nothing in between
walkable and violent and modern and clean
what's mine is mine
what's yours is mine
the line is getting thin
it's newlywed v nearly dead and no one's gonna win
st peter came to visit and inform the next of kin
you didn't get here soon enough, so you're not getting in
wire me up
coil me round
tie me down
magnetize me
INDUCTOR
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3. |
West Coast
04:35
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the door's unlocked
but your hands are full
your fingers numb
so dull & so cold
go for a walk
ignore the pain
you're looking cool
another sad boy in the rain
i hope you're well
okay, I don't.
you always said
i was hopeless i suppose
lost track of the months, weeks, years
not the days
i don't know what i'd do
if i could ever see you again
and it's not the things that i'd do
or didn't say
it's not the blood in my mouth
but just the taste
it's not the reasons i stayed
or didn't go
but the thought of your touch
still chills me to the bone
moved to the west coast
took a hike
tried to climb a mountain
a ghost couldn't climb
lost track of the fear love anger
not the mistakes
and i don't know what i'd do
if i ever saw you again
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4. |
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"the first image he told me about was of three children on the road in iceland, in 1965
he said that for him it was the image of happiness,
and also that he'd tried several times to link it to other images
but it never worked
he wrote me:
i will have spent my life trying to understand the function of remembering,
which is not the opposite of forgetting, but rather its lining
we do not remember, we rewrite memory much as history is rewritten
how can one remember thirst?
8:40 cambodia
in apocalypse now, brando said a few definitive and incommunicable sentences:
horror has a name and a face: you must make a friend of horror
to cast out the horror that has a name and a face
you must give it another name and another face
i wish i could convey to you the lack of affectation of this couple who'd come to place an inscribed wooden slat in the cat cemetery
so their cat Tora would be protected
no, she wasn't dead, just run away
but on the day of her death no one would know how to pray for her, how to intercede with death
so he would call her by her right name
so they had to come there, under the rain, to perform the rite
that would repair the web of time where it had been broken
he spoke to me of sei shonagon
a lady-in-waiting to princess sadako at the beginning of the 11th century
shonagon had a passion for lists:
a list of elegant things, distressing things, even of things not worth doing
one day she got the idea of drawing up a list
of things that quicken the heart
i'm writing you this from another world - a world of appearances
in a way the two worlds communicate with each other
history is to one what memory is to the other
an impossibility
the new bible will be an eternal magnetic tape of a time
that will have to reread itself constantly just to know that it existed
total recall is memory anesthetized
the idea that unhappiness had existed in the past
is as unbearable as the existence of poverty in the present
on hayao's machine war resembles letters being burned, shredded in a frame of fire
one would have to read their last letters to learn that the kamikaze weren't all volunteers
before drinking his last cup of sake ryoji uebara had written:
we kamikaze pilots are machines, we have nothing to say
in the plane i am a machine
a bit of magnetized metal that will plaster itself against an aircraft carrier
but once on the ground i am a human being with feelings and passions
and i thought of all the prayers to time
the kindest was the one spoken by the woman of gotokuji
who said to her cat Tora, simply:
cat, wherever you are, peace be with you
when spring came, i took the green train of the yamanote line and got off at tokyo station, near the central post office
even if the street was empty i waited at the red light
so as to leave space for the spirits of broken cars
even if i was expecting no letter, i stopped at the general delivery window, for one must honour the spirit of torn-up letters
and at the airmail counter to salute the spirit of unsent letters
i took measure of that unbearable vanity of the west
that never ceases to privilege being over non-being
what is spoken to what is left unsaid
then i went down into the basement, where my friend - the maniac - busies himself with his electronic graffiti
finally his language touches me, because he speaks to that part of us which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls
a piece of chalk to outline the contours of what is not, or is no longer, or is not yet
the handwriting each one of us will use to compose their own list of things that quicken the heart
to offer or to erase
in that moment poetry will be made by everyone
and there will be emus in the zone"
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LOW BOYS Victoria, British Columbia
located at or near the bottom of something.
ranking below other people or things
in importance or class.
unscrupulous or dishonest.
depressed or lacking in energy.
a particularly bad or difficult moment.
... more
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