1. |
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Brutalist doesn't mean what you think it does
Hosanna wasn't over when you wished it was
Kiss me on the mouth, it's Christmas Eve
I have stars in my eyes, I have winter seeds
Because I have ideas and you have ideas
And we're wasting our youth on these wretched careers
But it's not too late
To start over here
Jim told me all about Los Angeles
I don't remember much, but I remember this:
The waves look like lace when they reach the shore
And he saw M. Emmet Walsh in the grocery store
You know I have my flaws and you have your flaws
And we're bending our beauty while breaking blue laws
But we still look good
After it all
Brutalist doesn't mean what you think it does
Hosanna wasn't over when you wished it was
Kiss me on the mouth, it's Christmas Eve
I have stars in my eyes, I have winter seeds
Because I have ideas and you have ideas
And we're wasting our youth on these wretched careers
But it's not too late
To start over here
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2. |
To Neptune
02:54
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The night needs to be
Rid of me, at last
‘Cause when I’m gone, everyone will
See that you’re the best
At capturing
The old chaos of the sun
From the fresh evils
That you quietly have won
And when you sing your song
The sea becomes me
You were right to ask
Who am I to be the sea?
And to Neptune,
A villainess from the south
With mongrel eyes
And sold-out poems in her mouth
“Show us your throat
Show off your voice to us” they said
You turned your eyes and
Started swimming straight ahead
And when you sing your song
The sea becomes me
You were right to ask
Who am I to be the sea?
And when you sing your song
The sea becomes me
You were right to ask
“Who am I to be the sea?”
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Virgin of the Birds San Francisco, California
Named after a poor English translation of a Salvador Dali painting, Virgin of the Birds treads a line between intimate, lo fi folk and the occasional grandeur of early art rock.
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