1. |
Vanity Fair
04:23
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They burned down my hometown diner
For insurance payouts and a few of the finer things, but that’s alright
Donny says, he saw them yesterday
Hung up smoking jerky in the jersey mist off I-95
Remember being 18, daydreaming about mink coats and cigarette smoke
Sitting at the top of the stairs, reading vanity fair
I wanna live in a downtown apartment
Mid-century furniture and ceramic ornamentations
arranged for me
South Facing with a garden and basement
Panoramic views of a bridge from the verse
And the land from the sea
Making love in the walk in closet
Tiptoeing, trying not to crease my clothes, distracted thinking about
which costumes we should wear to the vanity fair
And there’s a fruit stand on the turnpike
A pint of loose vinegar leaks from the glovebox
And the radio host explains you can’t win back the Love you’ve lost
And in hip west side cafes
The communist kids are writing bad poetry
In a multi-syllabic car wreck, piling up all over me
And we’re back in that old diner
And the late shift waitress hates me and my friends
And the traffic cop’s gonna fine her, for double-parking her Mercedes Benz
Tell me baby, have I really lost my touch?
Is it true, you think that I drink too much?
Promise me you’ll put me down
If you see me standing there at the vanity fair
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2. |
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I miss dancing in strange western bars to a tune I can never nail down
With my hands sewn into my pockets and my lips staring at the ground
And I like the way your eyes changed in the light from green to blue back to grey
She says thanks I like the way the years wear on your pretty face
From the northern woodlands
To the far west coast
I’m looking for something everybody else already knows
Folk singers in Byzantine jumpsuits count the cobwebs in the treasury
In a last ditch effort to write new songs about misery
Someone told me there’s a land out there where no one can play guitar
I wanna move there someday and dump my brain into a reservoir
When the southern heat
Hikes up the Eastern shores
My mind’s a just cluttered chest of drawers
Country Stars are crashing cars
A Demolition derby American dream
Wannabe rust belt fellas who hang up their hard-knock degrees
When the promises meet their promised ends
I’ll slip between linen sheets
And Write abstract sermons about preachers who don’t believe
One of these days, these days will bring something new
And we’ll smile at each other that there’s nothing to do
One of these nights, these nights will give me a clue
And I’ll write you something, something that means something
Means something to you
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3. |
Stoudt's Fruit Farm
03:56
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T-Rex with his shiny teeth
Seems that he wants to take chunks out of me
Rivaled on a green beach scene
Recycled from vanity fair magazines
It’s all over, it’s all over
Rexy’s complex is ethanol
It’s all over, it’s all over
The shadow has bled into the valley so long nothing grows
I’ve traveled a long ways from here
And carnied as an artisan’s puppeteer
Well, Gibby is my angel
He sends me shoes I can tap on my table
But that’s over, it’s all over
He found around ten other men and dress them up in clover
It’s all over
In the background, Coyote’s laughing at me with his candy apple Stoudt.
You’re a padlock waiting for the long soft fingers of home
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4. |
Man in Me
02:31
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I smelled your burning rubber in my hotbox dream
Put me back into the eyes of your summer nigh high beams
Candy make me laugh, I know you know
What kinds of jokes I like
Pump your brakes to the bass drum
Your motor's hum drowns out every sensible way of life
You're such an unsensible kind of guy
And I've used reason a million times to prove that I'm right
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5. |
Hum of the Highway
04:14
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Oh I’m waiting for a friend of mine
We played in a band for a long time
And now I’m wondering where he’s gone
It’s been years, I hope he’s carrying on
We’d go out and take a drive
Stealing apples as we fly by
It was a life ago, it seems
And it feels like someone else’s dream to me
The last time I saw him on the porch
He told me I oughta open up more
He blew his smoke rings at the sky
I told him about my friend who died in July
Old country roads, they’ve got minds of their own
Do they remember us after we leave home?
Our old friends, they’ve got lives of their own
And they keep on living after we are gone
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6. |
My Friends
03:23
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My friends all live on videotape
Patiently they wait
Outside my living room escape
And I forget the daze
The waves of maize and daisy chains
That ebb and slip away
My friends are licking postage stamps
Fifteen cent letters, sent
to pristine leper camps
And I read them everyday
Standing on the corner where
we used to laugh and play
And I, I think I like you better
In the smiling weather
When I’m laying next to you
And I think I like your sweater
I want to pull its strings and tangle in with you
My friends all ride the merry-go-round
Round and round and up and down
Through my waking dreams
And it’s every day, it seems
And it’s getting harder to carry on
Sitting in my armchair terrarium
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7. |
Bobby Says
02:38
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Bobby, bobby says it’s alright
To fear all the things that you don’t know
Drunk and fumbling in the moonlight
Nothing’s wrong, just thinking makes it so
Is he really lovely?
Every afternoon he plays his horn
Kids growing up warned me
Bobby’s tunes are always met with scorn
Bobby’s tunes are met with scorn
Bobby, bobby says he hates it
Hates it when I ask if he’s okay
The pictures that hang above the sofa
Document the days he wish would fade
Is he really lovely?
Every now and then he isn’t sure
Bobby says he’s sorry
That he’s always one foot out the door
Tumbling in the streets after four
Drowning in the sheets the night before
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8. |
Letteropener
03:01
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Mistake the headlights for sunrise
I’ve been talking to you all night
Don’t know how I got here
My mind’s hanging from the chandelier
I’d write you a letter if you want me to
There’s things I’d like to say to you
But I’ll never write them down
I’ll never write them down
I struggle with sincerity
I feel naked when you’re staring at me
Tongue crumbling into chalk dust
And it's dripping in the hot sun
I’d write you a letter if you want me to
There’s things I’d like to say to you
But I’ll never write them down
I’ll never write them down
Not afraid of dying
Just afraid of never letting you know
Never letting you know
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9. |
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I’ve got my face on my tape
Don’t put the freeze on my tape
Yelling for the dog in the half-light
Calling for him home but he don’t hear me
Hope the other strays treat him right
I’ve got you holding up the fast food signs, going out like Frankenstein
I’ve got you analyzing a dream of an arbitrary theme like:
Strings
And half-built pirate boats
With fake warehouse hissing jokes which all bring smiles while they pile over me.
Well it’s all in the hole
Packed down by some country western jig
Throw out your shovel
The grounds been frozen all before I wrote this thing
So let the weedwackers wake early for their shot
To tend the surface as if nothings underground
The market’s selling and these kids are on the pedal
To spend the 20k they’re making year round
There’s nothing going on
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10. |
Another Suburban Dream
04:41
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Every road that leads to the places we called home
Sends an awful aching feeling to my bones
When you know every twist and turn
You learn not to yearn
For the days that won’t return
I saw they’re selling that old house where you used to live
I read it in a flyer from the neighbor’s kid
He said “mister, do you live around here”?
In a voice so soft and clear
Cause he hasn’t learned to fear what’s living here
I saw you dancing in your scotch tape dress
The one you wore when we first met
You say, how do you think it looks my friend?
There’s a tear right up the seam
And the zippers are all blown to smithereens
When you’re all alone in your room at night
Is there a film always playing in your mind
Do you watch it every night to unwind
The good times on instant replay
And the feelings you wish would go away
On their own
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Twin Pigeons
Twin Pigeons is an indie folk duo from the Lehigh Valley. It is the latest music project from longtime friends and collaborators Alessandro Consuelos and Dylan Rex. The pair have previously released garage-punk records as "Rust" and Rex has released several experimental folk albums. Twin Pigeons' lo-fi weirdness is the latest expression of their DIY attitudes and love for experimentation. ... more
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