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ezra furman - walk on in darkness

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disguise your well-being
in a forest made of sticks and twigs
and zoom in
on trees growing tall
and fall

be a martyr for a philosophy, old
and be told
not to die.
for your sins
are bold and forewarned
torn
between to faces, lifted
up above the ceiling, high
below the sky

drag the field
and get real

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cool down
lay back
you’re artificially lifted
but lacking heart
they say there’s more
to the picture than meets the eye
well not when the pictures play
backwards for you

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okkervil river’s tiny desk concert

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hey there by the record player
put on something else
find me surfing internets
for anything to sell
listening to wilco
or okkervil river
seems like it’s all ending
with nothing to give
speaking of prayers
or maybe i wasn’t even
over the years
i’ve been sinking into my own skin
and over and over again

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"All Is Good, Then" Album Release

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love is what it was
back when the drugs
lifted you upon the angel’s wings
and now i’m done
with girls all drunk
i’m looking for a woman who sings songs about her darkness
weeling, wasted, too true to talk shit
and over present passion
she’s a rebel
and i’m lost

you’re young
and i’m aging
you’re something
i’ve been waiting for
too talkative to tease the lights
at the on/off switch
your life was caught sifting
no lies, just lifting
hearts upon a dagger made of flint
with its sparks, contain me

and now i’m having second thoughts about using you
i’m half in the bag, criss-crossing through
the names in my telephone
who could be called
who would be alone
right now i’m thinking no one’s there
on the other end with a poison stare
i can’t look
there’s no one here
to catch me falling

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three rides before nightfall
your side is so out of it
helping me up to my feet to stand
and now i’m having
two ways to go forward
today is just horrid
you and i were never ones to quit
so smoke away
but i cannot dance when there’s no new music on
it’s just a swaying of your arms and legs

goodbye to your morning
so cried but reforming
moms and dads are auctioning your stuff
without your knowledge
so screw the faders
turn the music up for later
it’s a bang of how you made
yourself into the tides at dawn
you’re so casually remaking your
history’s so uneven
brace yourself for impact
i am someone
you’ve left unpacked

but i can’t be someone
you are holding onto
it’s just a pattern you can’t trace enough
so clothes are all wrecked
and you could be the patter on the radio
oh, you could never go back there

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have you seen the mockingbird
singing on the limb
of trees growing dark and thin?
yes, and have you heard
of people casting off-
into dimly lit facades-
their wanting for a god?
yes, and have you seen the mockingbird?

have you been around
for night’s disposing green
of envied storms and lightning streaks?
oh, have you heard the sound
of the splashing midday;
loud amidst the breeze?
oh, have you seen…

yes, and have you been thinking?

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deny deception or disease
one plus one is three
because your careful dealings
make your mind relaxed and free
pick on idle notes
until you shiver to your toes
your wedding bells aren’t ringing
it’s just twelve o’clock and swinging
from the bell tower above you
form your wondrous body, burning
at the stake
standing face to face
with satan
laugh

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it’s a possible formation of destiny’s darkness
and possibly portioned for a summertime’s blue sky
pardon your patrons
no party can push me
to pledge my allegiance
to attractive army gowns
distance your martyrs
denying your gentrified
genius or insanity
separate but the same
and cull myriad captions
of photos all taken
with cameras called upon
to picture the scene
of science sent seeking out
truth or reporting the
patterns of plagues
passing out in the street
wish on a candle
no stars in the sky anymore
i am able
and you are cain’s son
signal your shopping list
languid and luscious
with tattered green army pants
passing you by

distract your deviance
and dance toward the moon

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you said is this a joke
i said come on now
you know there’s nothing out of words
to be tied upon a float on down the river
or a casket down the road

you said are you but sure
that i’m the only girl
i said, woman, you know that you are
and there’s something about the tiles in the bathroom
that floor me
for the carpet hugs the walls
and whispers gallantly with judas
there’s a rainstorm
out the window; let it fall
and make me shudder toward its sound
upon the rooftop
thick as steel as ashes fall
from the fireplace

take apart the winter
and dream of spring storms

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bill hicks’ rant in e-minor

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one last time by the supposed so