1. |
t-Party Time Traveler
03:05
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"t-PARTY TIME TRAVELER"
Don't need kindness from strangers
Or thick government
Just some military elite
To tap the old dark wilderness
And some Navabros to dig us big nugs of uranium
I'll keep em in the back of my shed
Uraninite
Rails and steel
More magic fossils
From the boiler of hell
Yeah, we'll chip through the permafrost
To my oil plantation
And track the Apache Kid with my LCD
I'll pledge my sacred honor to the wagon master
To the homestead in the wide-open range
C'mon c'mon ride with me
back to 1773
Parking will be difficult
But let's roll
Right after suppertime
Hello?
Hello?. . .
Anybody hear me?. . .
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2. |
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“GIVE MY SHINGUARDS TO BRO0DWAY”
Broadway
I think I saw it on late-night TV
Skanky diagonal Indian trails with the Bowery
Broadway
Kickline syphillis variety
Didn’t pomade sludge from Collect Pond flood that alley?
“Gay White Way”?
Ah yeah, that strip where the graftsmen range
Barkers, newsboys, hot-corn girls
Yeah, they all deal mange
Let’s cross the Bowery
Through the cracks of a sportsmen’s saloon
Animatronic tonic, helium croons
Back at the Bowery
Toss your chicken bones from the balcony
Skeezy ‘n’ Greezy bone Oblivian there
For, like, a threepenny
Like a crawdad hole in the gaslight
Broadway, Bro0dway
Give my shinguards to Bro0dway!
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3. |
Freebase the Febreeze
03:46
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"FREEBASE THE FEBREEZE"
I'll take a urinal disc
With some midtown gravy
And caramelized voyagers smudge from Canal Street
New Car Smell
Trees in the mirror
'N' clouds of molten babydoll plastic over Newtown Creek
I'm watchin old Wolf Blitzer
With a white wine spritzer
Freebasin' Febreeze
Till I can't feel my knees
Plug it in, plug it in, plug it in!
Roll out the benzene carpet
And a Lysol chaser
Cut another round of silica dust for the table
Take me, Asthma Alley
I need some electric company
And gimme screen-light flu
Crispy creme, baptize me
I'll take a sulfite speedball
Hold the fiber
Frack another puff of sheetrock gas from my trailer
More PVC, son
More DEET, dawg
Freebase the Febreeze
Gimme the 'Sease
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4. |
Lottery Rose
02:55
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"LOTTERY ROSE"
So, you think if you turn up the music that loud
I'll buy more drinks?
And not get hoarse?
Wake up, Dotty
I'm a big star now
I got a lottery rose
I'm in the clouds
In my chester drawers
In my chester drawer-ers
Concrete and liquor stores
In your chester drawers
"G" is for "ghost"
"G" is for "ghetto"
I dance with the demons there, in my chester drawers
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5. |
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"PIE-EYED PIPER, JET-BLACK PLAGUE"
Step right up, it's the pie-eyed piper
You better call him "Mister"
He takes out rats like an old pit viper
Pay your dues to the pie-eyed piper
He's more than a garbage man
The last time i saw the piper
He was way on the outskirts of Hamelin, headed East
On top of Koppelberg Hill
Back in, like, 1268
He had whole crew of rug-rats taggin' along
Orpans 'n' bastards
Now where'd everybody go?
{ { {<<< . . . >>> } } }
Yeah, it's good to be alive
I'm cool, everybody
Real estate's never been this cheap
I guess the next town's gonna get the 'Sease
While all the children eat raspberries
Steppin' out with the Pie-Eyed Piper
Respect!
In the cave with the old pit vipers
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6. |
iPod Suicide
02:29
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7. |
Stone Satellite
04:17
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"STONE SATELLITE"
September brambles
Need August light
Solar plasma healin
Coronal shambles
Red, green, blue—out of white
Color capital
Stone Satellite
Photosynthesis
Strangled up in grapevines
Maximillion sunflower seeds
Coronal mass ejection
4 billion years young
3 million–kelvin cascade
Hello, ray of the dead
Do ya copy?
Drop me a lil' crumb of sun tartare
'N' burn my ashes up clean
Dear face of the heavens
I'm just a two-bit prism
Cattail pollen, twist me!
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8. |
Contemplative G
01:22
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9. |
Corpse of Discovery
05:16
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10. |
Corporate Woods Perfume
07:11
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"CORPORATE WOODS PERFUME"
Corporate Woods
Corporate Woods perfume
The scent of the axe woman
Clear-cuttin' in the conference room
Indian Creek
Indian Creek Racquet Club
Name the creek after them
Any old tribe will do
Corporate Woods
Corporate Woods Racket Club
A hot box of floppy discs
In a grey LeBaron coupe
Indian Creek
Indian Creek Perfume . . .
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11. |
Mother of Thousands
03:32
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