1. |
First Flight
03:05
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Mom and dad are proud of what they made
As the boy pulls down his windowshade
And the bird folds up his wings, but then
As their children sleep, they toss and turn
With the first prod of memory
First tugging of mortality
'Cause to say your hellos is to be your goodbyes
And the end is all that the start implies
That first flight the start of a flight out the door
But without that first, there can't be more
In his seat, the anxious little boy
Fumbles with his tiny windowshade
There's a world too big to recognize
There's a first time for everything
And the sky's so blue up here
On the limb, the anxious little bird
Fumbles with his tiny, awkward wings
There's a world too big to recognize
There's a first time for everything
And the sky's so blue up here
Mom and dad are proud of what they made
As the boy pulls down his windowshade
And the bird folds up his wings, but then
As their children sleep, they toss and turn
Thinking, "Wasn't that just me?"
In his seat, the anxious little boy
Annexes lands of whipped-cream cloud
And conquers puzzle-piece terrain
And his mom tries to give him a word
But he pulls away to get his own
On the limb, the anxious little bird
Comes to understand the way of things
Realizing self-sufficiency
And his mom tries to give him a worm
But he pulls away to get his own
Mom and dad are proud of what they made
As the boy pulls down his windowshade
And the bird folds up his wings, but then
As their children sleep, they toss and turn
With the first prod of memory
First tugging of mortality
'Cause to say your hellos is to be your goodbyes
And the end is all that the start implies
That first flight the start of a flight out the door
But without that first, there can't be more.
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2. |
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WOW it's like Jupiter or the sun or something
It's like Jason Fineman is living in a bomb shelter or something
And there's this lead weight in there with him
It's so heavy it's pushing down a pothole in the floor
It's drawing everything to it, it's so heavy
It's even drawing in the light
He talks to his pals in the halls because
His external life in the dorms is like living in a bomb shelter too
He knows a guy who grows pot plants under a black light
Just think about that
The cool bucket
The cool earth
Those beetle-like seeds packed inside the cool earth
And the black light reaching down to them like cold hands
Slowly creeping
Penetrating the cool earth
Touching the seeds gently
Calling them up to the air
Calling the roots down into the earth
Chlorophyll drinks black light light
And leaves stretch out
Stretch out
To hands that will pluck them
Sift them
Smoke them
And I can only describe the things oppressing Jason Fineman cereally
The march
The march of yellow moons
Orange stars
Blue uniforms
Metal horseshoes
I want him to reach up through the dirt
And feel the sun
The sun
The sun
The sun
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3. |
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Hey!
Peach
Plum
Apple
Lemon
Dildo
Lime
Grape
Orange
Which of these eight things does not not belong?
The dildo does not belong
The dildo does not belong
The dildo does not belong, that's right
The dildo does not belong
Hey!
The dildo does not belong
Hey!
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Jed Davis Syracuse, New York
Song designer; founding member of The Hanslick Rebellion, Skyscape, Collider; oblivious to genre, trends and the passage of time.
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