| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
 |
1. |
| 4:12 | 
|
||
|
Turnstiles on mezzanine
Jet ways and Dramamine fiends And x-ray machines You were hurling through space G-forces twisting your face Breeding superstition A fatal premonition You know you got to envision The fiery crash Oh close your eyes and you wake up Face stuck to a vinyl settee Oh the line was starting to break up Just as you were starting to say Something apropos I don't know Beige tiles and magazines Lou Dobbs and the CNN team On every monitor screen You were caught in the crossfire Where every human face Has you reaching for your mace So it's kind of an imposition Fatal premonition To save our lives you've got to envision And to save all our lives you've got to envision The fiery crash It's just a formality Why must I explain? Just a nod to mortality Before you get on a plane Oh close your eyes and you wake up Face stuck to a vinyl settee Oh the line was starting to break up What was that you were going to say? |
||||||
| 2. |
| 4:01 |
|
|||
|
He's keeping busy
Yeah he's bleeding stones With his machinations and his palindromes It was anything but hear the voice anything but hear the voice It was anything but hear the voice That says that we're all basically alone Poor Professor Pynchon had only good intentions When he put his Bunsen burners all away And turning to a playground in a Petri dish Where single cells would swing their fists At anything that looks like easy prey In this nature show that rages every day It was then he heard his intuition say We were all basically alone And despite what all his studies had shown That what's mistaken for closeness Is just a case for mitosis And why do some show no mercy While others are painfully shy Tell me doctor can you quantify He just wants to know the reason, the reason why Why do they congregate in groups of four Scatter like a billion spores And let the wind just carry them away? How can kids be so mean? Our famous doctor tried to glean As he went home at the end of the day In this nature show that rages every day It was then he heard his intuition say We were all basically alone Despite what all his studies had shown That what's mistaken for closeness Is just a case of mitosis Sure fatal doses of malcontent through osmosis And why do some show no mercy While others are painfully shy Tell me doctor, can you quantify? The reason why |
||||||
| 3. |
| 4:28 |
|
|||
|
to moonnn6pence from papayeverte
This isn't your song This isn't your music How can they be wrong When by committee they choose it all? They choose it all Chin chin Chin chin You're gonna grow old You're gonna grow cold Bearing signs on the avenue For your own personal Waterloo You're bearing signs on the avenue For your own personal Waterloo now We'll fight we'll fight We'll fight for your music halls And dying cities They'll fight they'll fight They'll fight for your neural walls And plasticities And precious territory This isn't our song This isn't even a musical I think life is too long To be a whale in a cubicle Nails under your cuticle Chin chin You're gonna grow old You're gonna grow so cold Before this song can deliver you You're bearing signs on the avenue You're bearing signs For your own personal Waterloo now We'll fight we'll fight We'll fight for your music halls And dying cities They'll fight they'll fight They'll fight for your neural walls And plasticities And precious territory |
||||||
| 4. |
| 3:34 |
|
|||
|
Bored holes through our tongues
So sing a song about it Held our breath for too long ‘Til we're half sick about it Tell us what we did wrong And you can blame us for it Turn a clamp on our thumbs We'll sew a doll about it And tell us all about it How ‘bout some credit now Where credit is due For the damage that we've done? Wrought upon ourselves and others With a slow and vicious gun And although pratfalls can be fun Encores can be fatal And then I hear you say "Thank God it's fatal Not shy Not shy of fatal Thank God." Wait just a second now It's not all that bad Don't you count out the sun. You're making mountains of handkerchiefs Where the mascara always runs So be careful when you're done You're bound to get post-nasal What, did I just hear you say? "Thank God it's fatal." We don't want to hear the sound of a door And we don't want to read the signs that you bore You know, the kind of sign you hang on the door Saying, "we'll be back"- what a crack Now don't you think we might have heard that before? Bored holes through our tongues So sing a song about it Held our breath for too long ‘Til we're half sick about it Tell us what we did wrong And you can blame us for it Turn a clamp on our thumbs We'll sew a doll about it |
||||||
| 5. |
| 7:03 |
|
|||
|
I dreamed you were a cosmonaut
of the space between our chairs and I was a cartographer of the tangles in your hair I sighed a song that silence brings it's the one that everybody knows oh everybody knows the song that silence sings and this was how it goes these looms that weave apocryphal they're hanging from a strand these dark and empty rooms were full of incandescent hands and awkward pause a fatal flaw time it's a crooked bow oh time's a crooked bow in time you need to learn to love the ebb just like the flow grab hold of your bootstraps and pull like hell ‘till gravity feels sorry for you and lets you go as if you lack the proper chemicals to know the way it felt the last time you let yourself fall this low time oh time it's a crooked bow time's a crooked bow fifty-five and three?eighths years later at the bottom of this gigantic crater and armchair calls to you yeah this armchair calls to you and it says that some day we'll get back at them all with epoxy and a pair of pliers as ancient sea slugs begin to crawl through the ragweed and barbed wire you didn't write you didn't call it didn't cross your mind at all and through the waves the waves of a.m. squall you couldn't feel a thing at all you're fifty-five and three-eighths tall time |
||||||
| 6. |
| 5:08 |
|
|||
|
When I was just a little boy
I threw away all of my action toys While I became obsessed with operation With hearts and minds and certain glands You gotta learn to keep a steady hand And thus began my morbid fascination Tore the spines from out of all of these self-help books Made myself a gun that not only shoots but looks So real It shoots through steel With rays of dark matter Do you wonder where the self resides Is it in your head or between your sides And who will be the one who will decide Its true location And does the thought of bile that's red and black The thought of tongues that taste you back Fill you with a naus-eous-eous sort of elation A noose is loosed around our necks made of DNA And every day it's growing tighter no matter what they do or say And you can shoot right through it with rays of dark matter Just before they kick out the ladder With rays of dark matter Like something catching fire Do you wonder where the self resides Is it in your head or between your sides And who will be the one who will decide Its true location |
||||||
| 7. |
| 3:37 |
|
|||
|
some people wake up on Monday mornings
barring maelstroms and red flare warnings with no explosions and no surprises perform a series of exercises hold your fire take your place around an open fire before your neurons declare a crisis before your trace Serotonin rises before you're reading your coffee grounds and before a pundit can make a sound and before you're reading your list of vices perform the simplest exercises so here at the end the war is over there's nothing left to defend no cliffs of Dover so let us put down our pens and this concludes our test our minds are scattered about from hell to breakfast hold your fire take your place around an open fire don't open fire |
||||||
| 8. |
| 0:59 | 
|
|||
| 9. |
| 3:13 |
|
|||
|
when our mouths are filled with uninvited tongues of others
and the strays are pining for their unrequited mothers milk that sours is promptly spat light will fill our eyes like cats and they shall enter from the back with spears and scepters and squirming sacks scribes and tangles between their ears faceless scrumbled charcoal smears through the coppice and the chaparral the thickets thick with mold the bracken and the brier catchweed into the fold when our mouths are filled with uninvited tongues of others and the strays are pining for their unrequited mothers milk that sours is promptly spat the light will fill our eyes like cats cataracts |
||||||
| 10. |
| 4:35 |
|
|||
|
Five day forecast bring black tar rains and hellfire
while handpicked handler's kid gloves tear at the inseams their Halliburton attache cases are useless while scotch guard Macintoshes shall be carbonized now they're offering views of exiting empires such breathtaking views of Scythian empires Scythian empires, horsemen of the Russian steppe Scythian empires, archers of an afterthought Routed by Sarmatians, thwarted by the Thracians Scythian empire Scythian empires, exiting empires Scythian empires, exiting empires Routed by Sarmatians, thwarted by the Thracians Scythian empire Kings of Macedonia, Scythian empire |
||||||
| 11. |
| 4:07 |
|
|||
|
The finches and sparrows build nests in my chimney
With remains of the small flightless birds that you failed to protect But the yolk isn't easy in fact it's a drag As they're blowin' through cornfields and mountains of rags All over the suburbs across the great lawns And they're cropdusting gardens all over this town But nobody cares when it gets in their hair It gets in their lungs as it floats through the air It gets in the food that they buy and prepare But nobody cares when it gets in their hair Across the great chasms and schisms And the sudden aneurysms Where the black ink will drip across the cuspis of your eyes And your teeth, they're worth more than you can spare Oh, don't tell me that it just isn't fair Don't speak about the cycles of life 'Cause your thoughts are so soft I can cut 'em with a spork, or a bride's knife And the wine made our mouths too loose Such a reckless choice of words When you told me that I'm too abstruse I just thought it was a kind of bird I swear, I just stood there Not saying a word |
||||||
| 12. |
| 3:39 |
|
|||
|
