1. |
all important artists
03:18
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all important artists have a defect in their heart or in their head
or so it’s said
paranoia or obsession, egomania, and feelings of dread
depressed in bed
van gogh’s absinthe and his missing ear
ernest shed his macho tears in beer
charlie parker shot his horse
and auden was so queer
you’ve gotta suffer, suffer, suffer for your art
all important art is hard it must be complicated to conceive
or perceive
no one wants to buy a canvas from a fat man living lavishly
or so it seems
michelangelo upon his back
basquiat in his cold water flat
nick drake never made a pound
‘til in his grave he sat
you’ve gotta suffer, suffer, suffer for your art
suffer, suffer, suffer, suffer, suffer, suffer, suffer, suffer
suffer, suffer, suffer, suffer, suffer for your art
all important artists must be very difficult to be around
or so it’s found
nice guys always finish last and perfect bastards always live it down
to take the crown
pollock and his infantile rants
frank lloyd wright couldn’t keep it in his pants
picasso was an a$$hole with an ego big as france
you’ve gotta suffer, suffer, suffer for your art
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2. |
sleep when we’re dead
03:12
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mr. grim drops in every day
just to say he’s here to stay
but birds they still sing soft, sweet and free
almost like they call to you and me
when you were so young and green
like a fern in the ground curled up to spring
are you what you thought you would be?
and if so did you think that we’d be we?
but let’s not sit here marking time
like chalk on a rainy sidewalk washed up with the grime
there’s a great big world outside our heads
so let’s not miss a beat we can sleep when we’re dead
let’s go where the sky hugs the ground
we don’t need a map to get around
and chase the sun on down
‘til the night leads us on like a firefly
let’s not sit here marking time
like scratches on a prison wall we’ve built up in our minds
there’s a great big world outside our bed
so let’s not miss a thing we can sleep when we’re dead
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3. |
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I felt guilty, I wasn’t even catholic
I was dirty trying to get clean with spit
I was so down that I couldn’t climb up to sit
I was tired of people who don’t give a shhhh
it’s hard, it’s so hard
it’s hard to have a heart
it’s so hard to have a heart
when all it does is bleed
You were talking but I just couldn’t hear
I was listening to my pulse pound in my ears
you did surgery with a pair of garden shears
I was hoping for a little anesthesia, dear
it’s hard to have a heart that loves
it’s hard to hug with boxing gloves
it’s hard to have a heart in pain
it’s hard to break up on a train
it’s hard to have a heart that ticks
it’s hard to deal with all the pricks
it’s hard to have a heart that cares
it’s hard to get your heart repaired
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4. |
8:04
01:26
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the 8:04 number 135
is a whole different ride
with your headphones on
and your favorite song
drowning out the mourning
half awake halfway there
and completely in love
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5. |
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the camera pans from left to right
the sidewalk soft with dappled light
you’re haloed by the morning sun
we follow you on down the street
with close-ups of your sneakered feet
we hear you hum a simple tune
the camera drifts up to your face
your smile looks slightly out of place
we hear the sprinklers and the birds
they form a chorus without words
you’re walking slowly out of frame
an indie anthem leads your way
uplifting yet without cliché
you disappear in camera glare
the credits roll after you’re gone
we know you’re happy from now on
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6. |
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work is the curse of the drinking class
work is the curse of the drinking class
work is the curse of the drinking class
and so say all of us
work is the curse of the drinking class
so drop your shovels and raise your glass
and tell your boss to kiss your ass
early in the morning
day is for sleeping and night for fun
so pour the bottle until the sun
rises upon your toils undone
‘til some other morning
all work and no play
makes for a dull day
all work and no play
bleeds all your days gray
work is the curse of the leisure class
so close your spreadsheets and raise your glass
and burn your ledgers to darkest ash
early in the morning
the years are spent in days and hours
the frost it turns to dust the flowers
so lay to waste the office towers
come this monday morning
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7. |
pull the shade
03:19
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empty your head my dear, my darling
pour out all your dreams and schemes
pull the fears out of your pockets lint and all
we’ll pile them up into a great big ball
hang the good up on the wall
throw the rest out in the hall
step over it on our way out of town
empty your heart my storm, my sunshine
don’t hold back an ounce of feeling
pour it out like a baptist preacher sweat and all
quench me in the rites of love
rain down like a 100 year flood
wash away all of the mud
‘til we’re as clean as saints on a hospital floor
empty yourself my gin, my tonic
numb me to the cold and dull
smooth out my cracks and edges ‘til I’m drunk
roll me out like a brand new lawn
watch the night unfold the dawn
and hold me ‘til the sun is gone
to pull the shade down on our sweet days
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8. |
ready?
03:32
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blow wind, blow (may you die down on down the road)
gonna hop up on my motorbike
gonna point the wheels to Paradise
gonna roll on like a pair of dice
gonna go until we’re good and gone
gonna chase the sun from dawn to dawn
and right before she gets on
my baby says “ready?” and I say “yeah”
flow stream, flow (never stay the same as you go)
gonna get our fill down at the well
gonna feel like heaven and look like hell
gonna kiss the night and never tell
gonna feel it right down in our bones
gonna throw until we’re overthrown
gonna go before we’re overblown
my baby says “ready?” and I say “yeah”
crow on, crow (‘til you have to caw at your ghost)
gonna wring our life out like a towel
gonna run with scissors down the hall
gonna love like Eve before the fall
gonna breathe the water and drink the land
gonna whole up for a big last stand
gonna play on like a Dixie band
when my baby says “ready?” I say “yeah”
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9. |
Zelda’s lament
04:10
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a southern belle and northern ways
mix like bourbon with a valium haze
I was your prize you were my catch
‘til time proved you for a jealous wretch
but nothing or no one
means a thing except for you, dear
we lived it up we tore it down
from old manhattan to your one-horse town
we’d drift apart, we’d make amends
we lived like tourists with famous friends
but I could paint and I could dance
it got me this gig in the Highland San
but nothing or no one
means a thing except for you
you mined my words and drank the proof
you raided my diary and you stole my youth
now I’m buried under your prose
a fitting end, a flapper’s close
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10. |
if the river
01:59
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if the river
if the river
if the river was
if the river
if the river
if the river was
river was
if the river was whiskey
if the river was whiskey
if the river was whiskey
all the fish would be dead
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11. |
streetlight
03:38
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streetlight, streetlight
shining all night
think I’ll stay up with you
streetlight, streetlight
you won’t sleep tight
‘til the sun throws her blanket of blue
streetlight, streetlight
feel like we just might
burn out before your time
streetlight, streetlight
put your spotlight on
the rain and the snow and the crimes
make your sons shine and your daughters
like lovers and moths to you
streetlight, streetlight
think I just might stay awake
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12. |
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I didn't write this one, so Google it.
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J.W. Schuller Boulder, Colorado
Singer, guitar slinger and purveyor of quirky indie folk rock. Recently emigrated to Boulder from Minneapolis. Known to abuse my Guild acoustic mercilessly but also have a softer side. Currently performing as a duo with my charming, bearded nephew Jens Larsen on drums and backing vocals. Come see us, you hear? Cheers. ... more
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