1. |
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Last night I dreamed of a bus that came on time
The door eased open and I got on
Every seat was torn and dirty with age
And there was no driver
I paid for my ride with coins that clanked like chains
The bus was as silent as the kitchen after Aunt Jane died
Block after block rolled past
The snow started to fall and the buildings began to fade
Just me, riding halfway back
We passed into a neighborhood of stone and fallen trees
The snow stood a foot deep and it kept coming
The bus rolled slowly to a halt
and the door wagged open with a sigh
and there was nothing.
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2. |
Stealing From Horses
03:52
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Stealing from horses
Stealing from horses
A fistful of hay
Won't nobody neigh
A fistful of oats
Yasss ... oats are for real
Yes, oats are for real
Stealing from horses
It's not a felony
Don't ask how I know that
Stealing from horses
Stealing from horses
I give to the poor
I give to the poor
And I steal from horses
Stealing from horses
Many places don't even have laws applying to theft from horses
This knowledge has stood me in good stead for a lifetime
And now, my son, I share it with you
Yes, oats are for real
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3. |
Producio's Lament
03:33
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Do you know who I am? Well ... do you?
I am PRODUCIO!
PRODUCIO!
I am PRODUCIO!
PRODUCIO!
I am ... PRODUCIO!
PRODUCIO!
PRODUCIO!
All hail PRODUCIO!
PRO-DU-CIO!
I am ... PRODUCIO!
PRRRRRRRODUCIO!
I am ... Producio.
PRODUCIO!
("you won't find much fun down in Milktown, son.")
PRODUCIO!
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4. |
Your God Is Jive, Horace
04:20
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5. |
Paternoster Lakes
04:00
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Giant current ripples.
Coulees.
Knickpoints.
Moraines.
Karst topography!
Alluvial deposits!
Schist.
Stream gradients.
Glaciation!
Few things on God's earth as boring ... as geology.
Geology!
Geology.
Ox-bow lakes.
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6. |
Mexico Shuffle
03:56
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you can figure 'em out.
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7. |
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I mixed 'em low so you wouldn't hear them, but here they are. Send your answers to Fat Ned, care of the Old Sailors' Home, Chelsea:
Here the darts one too grateful
It's let drink, stuff
Late to this glass I are raise not stricken
Got drain been be lovers' on station eyes
This is the white of believe darts
Throwing with you, Duke, I never is to sound
I'm to ocean, me drive ocean
Here to must return once white love
Tall I, beautiful
The when
The here
This will begun were in return where station
The must mountains woven
Bending white of fortune
It's too the circle
Wonderful, protect to that is you
It's late room return show, are kind evasive
Late late there lovers' men were too late to lost the again
Once you who connect and am you too one be million
Oh, I on her
It's canon be moment, in hateful
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8. |
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I came to amidst the humid stench of the world's most foul portable toilet.
Swatting away a cloud of flies, I rose painfully to my feet and found the door.
Tottering outside, I beheld a public park by nighttime, filled with dark trees and twisting paths, lit only by a pale quarter moon (gibbous).
I thought I was alone but then a figure emerged and turned toward me.
It turned toward me, its eyes glowed like coals, and its cape swept the ground. It seemed to tower above me.
"And now you have your answer!" it cackled, swirling its cape to catch a swirling nighttime breeze.
"The answer ... to what?" I asked, not because I wanted to know, but because it seemed the visitor would tear my head off if I didn't ask.
The visitor cackled again:
"Remember that time you asked yourself, 'They named an airport after Antonio Carlos Jobim! What will they name after me?' "
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9. |
Death Hill
03:40
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Death Hill
Death Hill
I was overmatched then and I'm overmatched still
Sucking cold air with the gray dark falling
Hearing the voices of weakness calling
Death Hill
Death Hill
Forty-six and still climbing.
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10. |
Andrew
02:44
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I don't say anything, but somehow I coaxed the synth into saying "ANDREW" a whole bunch of times. Enjoy!
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