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1. |
Tiny Bells
03:33
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There are all sorts of tiny bells
floating around my head
I can count each and every one
I can reach out and touch one
I've heard stories of the giant whale
That his belly was never full
That he could really swim
I bet he knew a thing or two
There's some vague lasting future
that we're all drowning in
It kinda sounds like the penny whistle
and the water tastes like gin
I can count and be outnumbered
I can come waltzing in
A hook, a lie and a whisper
Spotty past, forgotten sister
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2. |
Interruptions
03:36
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Sitting there,
with a pencil in my hand,
thinking I can be everything to all men.
I can be a dream, catch it in a stream,
be something in between, a tether
uniting the thing I could have been and
that thing you never wanted.
Sitting there,
with the instructions in my hand thinking,
I can be an interruption to all women.
The steps are clear, read it without fear,
"Good evening and good night,
you've done your best with sheer delights."
The hammer blows
Moving out of time, running in a circle
The hammer blows
Running out of time, moving in your circular thoughts
Laying there,
with it swirling round my head, thinking,
'I did nothing then and I can do nothing again!'
Like it's some kind of right, like there's a duty in ambivalence,
like there's nothing crawling up your thigh, saying,
"If you want to run out of time, honest,
the best of us, we won't mind."
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3. |
The Harbour Song
02:36
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The broken water, the foggy streets, the grim man.
Five hundred miles, our hands in the sand.
This land moves, with you.
This land moves, or we do.
Our heads in the harbour, our feet on the street.
Whiskey and beer, the world laid out for you and me.
This land moves, with you.
This land moves, or we do.
It's a small world, but it's alive.
You said, "It's ours, but we'll let them share it for a time."
This land moves, with you.
This land moves, or we do.
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4. |
Witch
03:44
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Burned at the stake
Another fucking fake
One day a real witch will come along
Day after day
Stoking the flames
In our own special way, evil be gone
Realize
My fingers are tight, my bones are dry
Pour down,
Give it back to the air, give it back to the ground
From mountain to plain
We're coming your way
We'll ride into town on a buggy of flame
I could run a ship
And I could be a man
This land is mine because I am good
So take your time
And run it out
This land is mine because I am good
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5. |
Conjuring
03:19
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I'm talking right over you
like I know what to do.
We walk the line.
We're passing through.
The road is always broken,
they don't save it for the chosen few.
I said we're a prison.
You said we're a plum.
I said this is over.
You knew we'd just begun.
We have such bad ideas,
and that's not something from which you can run.
I thought you were a snake charmer,
and you once were.
I was not the magician
that I pretended to be.
Everything I've transfixed has given way
under a shaky voice and a spirit tame
not fit for conjuring.
Hiccups at the orgy.
A sweater abandoned on a lake.
Five years is a long time to make a mistake.
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6. |
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You were a treasure, a find,
amongst the dusty rubble of barn commerce
and country living.
You were youthful, beautiful, cropped
right at the top of the skull, a forehead
of fur like a red carpet, presenting its prize.
Your documents were all in order,
as useful to you now as when you grazed
the sweet danger of a road unfortunate enough
to cut through the trees, as useful to me now as
indifference.
Certain animals were interested in your smell,
even now, sniffing at your curiosity.
But there was something going on, something
we couldn't see, and it was eating your marrow to dust.
It didn't come to me in a vision, or even all at once,
but I realized I don't know very much
about preserving anything and keeping things tidy
for a future.
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7. |
The Town Song
02:55
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Maybe this town has got nothing
but it's mine.
There's a road that runs through there,
running down my spine.
And everything glows in time.
I never saw the faces,
but they're in my mind.
The broken trees, the lamp post,
the halo of the down.
And everything glows in time.
Maybe this town has got nothing
but it's mine.
There's a road running there,
running down my spine.
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8. |
What's In It For Me
03:25
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The sky's the colour of cream.
Her eyes bounce from the window to the screen.
What's in it for me?
I'm sick of all this travelling.
The van smells like meat.
On display and acting sweet.
Why am I always the one who gets beat?
I'm bigger, but you've got the key.
What's in it for me?
"You've got your face in every town."
"But you've got me playing the clown."
"Now don't be like that you should be proud,
today you drew quite the crowd."
What's in it for me?
It was somewhere along Highway 2.
The sun rising, the lake in view.
She looked at her phone, I was in command.
And the cows looked good against the green grass.
What's in it for me?
There was a knife in the water,
there was blood in the pool in a pool.
He said, "I didn't think you'd try.
We started something good.
I knew you'd never care for doing something good."
As I spat out his name -- "Goodbye" --
I turned to my stage and out into the night.
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Lonely Deer Toronto, Ontario
Somewhere between folk, rock and roll, the everyday and the absurd is Lonely Deer, quietly releasing home recordings from his apartment in Toronto.
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