1. |
Popcorn Ceilings
04:21
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Oh, how you bend through the lens of a heat shimmer
as the cars that aren’t parked in the shade of oak trees simmer
We find relief from the heat in the basement,
in the eve climb to the roof and try to be the Replacements
Do you ever get the feeling
that heaven’s just beyond the popcorn ceilings?
Oh, while you talk with a lisp of the apocalypse
sprinklers hiss and all God’s rainbows hover in the mist
when you insist it’s bound to draw around the bend this summer
my heart pounds as if pummeled by a heavy metal drummer
Do you ever get the feeling
that heaven’s just beyond the popcorn ceilings?
Oh, how your Nirvana shirt from K-Mart, starts to show it’s age,
and in the same vein, we’re born gently worn and from there just continue to fade, fade, fade
Do you ever get that feeling
that Heaven’s just beyond the popcorn ceilings?
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2. |
Small Change
04:42
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3. |
Squashing Bugs
03:32
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4. |
Ricky Carmichael
04:19
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This one is for the haze
into which the party fades
and for the sun obliged to rise at dawn
and cast its revealing light upon
a planet abidden in the darkness
all night long
This one is for that guy
hanging out on the couch
unlit cigarette hanging out his mouth
and for whatever he’s talking to that girl about
all the conversations are heading south
(chorus)
like birds for the winter,
like spring breakers and retirees
with their beer bongs and dentures, (respectfully)
Woah- oh, Woah oh,
now we’re all wasting away,
smoking cheap cigars and talking bout Lost
til the break of day
this one is for the dirt bike I saved for as a kid,
pined to fly wild dusty roads, but never did
and for all those other dreams that slid
into the fringes of my mind and dropped off the grid
This one’s for giving up and becoming someone else,
sounds great on paper, in practice it’s hell
when the bass is thumping and I’m at odds with myself
I just wanna punch the throttle and hear the engine swell
(chorus 2)
Like strings
Arranged to make you bawl
Like an ego or a flock of seagulls
Or a bruise, post brawl
Woah oh, woah oh
Now were all wasting away
Watching MST3K til the break of day
it’s like, your stomach used to lurch
when some kid at church said “What the hell?”
now you’re handcuffed to a bench
at the taco bell
Woah-oh, woah-oh
now I’m aloof on a sea of subwoofers
where everyone shotguns Mikes Hard Lemonade
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5. |
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6. |
November 1st
04:01
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7. |
Statistics
03:46
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8. |
Kyle
03:55
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Adam, when’s the last time you heard from Kyle?
Hasn’t dropped me a line in a little while
Sandy says she saw him right before he left for Spain
and since he’s only sent a chintzy postcard shriveled from the rain
Sandy’s band still rattles basement rafters,
and sheepish english majors still ask her out after,
If you wanna go, she said they’re playing at her brother’s and
if we show up, she’ll slip a couple Bowie covers in
It’s 3 AM and I’m famished
And I’m worried because Kyle doesn’t even speak Spanish
And Sandy sounds like Patti Smith, can you hear it?
but she won’t for long, if she keeps on those American Spirits.
Adam, you still seeing that one girl?
Damn, I’m sorry that I asked
For a guy named after the first man
you sure know how to put yourself last
And me I can’t complain, but I must ask ya:
If Mel is leading helicopter tours up in Alaska,
if Carter owns eleven olive gardens, and Mya’s got an island in Dubai
If all my friends are drinking in the splendors of the world
then where the hell am i?
the people from our past have ended up in
places I can’t begin to fathom
and I know I’d love their lives
if I could only have them
If I could only have them
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9. |
Circulation
03:49
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Each thank you on the plastic bag diminishes return
the handles leave my fingers bloodless, purple, and taciturn
circulation terminates, as if by plunging vultures
and I don’t think I’m ready to lay it all on the alter
You were the blood pumping in my skinny wrists
I want to bust the ghost of you,
but throbbing, you persist
I’m a pawn American, my aunt’s pomeranians haunt
post-cake paper plates of waning parties
where the air is tired and gaunt
A living room strewn with Balloons,
a monument to celebration,
within days succumbs and becomes one to deflation
You were the blood pumping in my skinny wrists
I want to bust the ghost of you,
but throbbing, it persists
You were the blood pumping in my skinny wrists
Never again can I check my pulse
not reminded you exist
you were the blood,
you were the blood
and I was dumb, to think I was special
you were the blood
and I was but a vessel
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10. |
Holy Water
03:12
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11. |
Salt Lake City
05:41
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Moon over colorado river
sent shivers down my spine
and now i know: when the neon signs glow
they mimic the stars in the sky when they shine
like Nebuchunezzar, I built castles in the desert
well, you know people, they think they’re awful clever
salt lake city looks so pretty in a wasteland
of worthless endeavors,
whenevers
and nevers
I too have searched in vain for my place beneath the sky
i don’t know, guess my lamp’s burning low
kerosine tears welling up in my eyes
I’ve squinted from lofty peaks
plotting the sprawl that I’ll build my Empire of lies on
Still Salt Lake City is looking so pretty
perched like a bird upon the horizon
and someday our civilization
will crumble and coil and join the rocky soil
and some future dictator some thousand years later
will find our remains while drilling for oil
The archaeologists will furl their brows
and time will forget our names,
like babylon before us
our bones’ll be buried but
redemption will never be ours to claim
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