1. |
Speak to yrself
03:08
|
|||
|
Talk, my baby, it's okay
nothing you say leaves this room
jewels cascading from the drawer
tell you i'm hypocritical
vase of violets stares at you
if only it would fill a silence or two
with a loud and brash perfume
with symphonic pride enough to kill
the rotting thing that lives beneath the piano
tell me, what's a girl to do?!
tell me what they see in you!
what's the number you forgot?
it slips the mind every other day
pray for solace, pay for pain
rain will wash away a gainless power-play
until the next one comes along
glowing like a statue of a calm, but antithetical
to my philosophical void
cello-toting, poem-misquoting contriver
i was trying to fit in with some popular people
i know they're just as bland as i am
or maybe that's a self-centred ideogram
|
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2. |
Gonna be a big thing
01:50
|
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|
All the loving in the world
can’t match the love you gave to this girl
the sweetest things from the sugar boy
can’t be replaced until they’re enjoyed
my heart’s been arrested and he’s thrown away the key
and i’m locking up my love until he comes for me
gonna be a big thing, bigger than highers-up!
gonna be a big thing, bigger than movie love!
like a love story from a book
i tell myself i'm gonna stop and look
when the news gets around that i’m his girl
i’m gonna be so proud
my baby gives me fever and he holds the remedy
and whenever we're together that’s my opportunity
gonna be a big thing, it’s gonna touch the top!
gonna be a big thing, moving too fast to stop!
|
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3. |
||||
|
A caravan was coming for me
down cranberry road
a wheel flew off and separated
my words from their code
in khaki drabs, you apparated
a delicate voe
you grooved me to a place placated
and carved for me a crow
|
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4. |
Ranglin' practice
01:08
|
|||
|
You've made it this far, cowpoke...
ain't no turnin' back now
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
Stressing signals of hard-won mirth
that was the first step for you
casting to chance something darker than that
so i wouldn't find you by the ocean
trekking hardened through dirt and snow
they glide past you in a picasso
throwing to trash all the hardest parts
it's hardly the rainbow connection
"i fell from heaven for you!" he said
but you shouldn't listen to the seraphim
god's still living by the m6, i promise
i promise you're not gonna find them in the ocean
|
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Lane Goldman Glasgow, UK
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