1. |
Par la Seine
04:50
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Outside, the mist still blankets the cobblestones
A tender breeze, a coat pocket, and a pigeon on the run
Two lovers smoke a cigarette in the shadow of a fountain
Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va.
In the cloudless, kiteless sky, the morning it is a-seeping
A painter sits, a poet eats, a musician has found a garb
Two statues gleam in the foothills of a cafe
Avec le temps tout s'évanouit
Par la Seine, j'ai un pneu crevé
Par la Seine, vous pouvez vérifier les pneus
Par la Seine, un morceau de ce fromage
Below the spandrels, a hobo silently mutters
"The floor is always there to depend on when you fall."
Two cannot aimlessly plow the ocean
Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va.
Par la Seine, j'ai un pneu crevé
Par la Seine, vous pouvez vérifier les pneus
Par la Seine, un morceau de ce fromage
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2. |
The Bends of the Elbow
03:41
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Come gather around friends and I'll tell you a tale
About one man's bends of the elbow
He was born up in the Meadowlands
Where the steelworks used to run a-plenty
They complain in the East he's going too far
They say his demeanour is ill-fitting
Though back in the inner West
He's just a tortured artist
He arrived for an hour with his head over his hat
As the faces of the poor, they were grinding
Blacked out, blacked out in a cold sweat
The jester has spoken out
The days rolled by and the binge did bite
And the mouth would nip at the moonshine
But I would be the last one to tar
Anyone with the brush of fools
So next time you feel down or out in the pines
Or amongst dentists with wolves
Just have a look in your lover's eyes
Or hold on to her dovetails.
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3. |
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So we'll go no more a-roving, so late into the night, we'll collect leaves in the morning, and give the cows a tip.
We'll have a Parisian infant, je t'aime merci beaucoup, for every ointment they'll be a fly, and I'll regale you.
So we'll go no more a-roving, by the waxing gibbous moon, for the night was made for loving, and the day returns too soon.
[But] I'll be by your side as the mood swings and the mulch is laid. And I promise the chickens will never come home to roast.
So we'll go no more a-roving, so late into the night, I'll place a noun in your auricle, by the seat of the pants.
The elephant in the closet will overshadow and shoot its bolt, your eyes sparkle to a fare-thee-well, up the garden path.
[But] If we die before sate, I'll know we never tilted at windmills. And if you think that I’ll go and fly a kite, you know that is just pie in the sky...
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4. |
Farewell, Mr. Petal
04:53
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Farewell, Mr. Petal, don't bloat your stomach with hope
I may ache for you in the morning, but now I care not
Love doesn't come and go with the wind
But distance does make the heart recline
Though you're sleepless and saddened, and my eyes they run dry
Though my life may turn gloomy, my waist turn unloved
Farewell, Mr. Petal, I'm restless and doubtful
I'll see you in a while
Though the whiff of my eyelashes was enough for you
To gnaw at my vestibule from dusk till dawn
Farewell, Mr. Petal, I love you courtly
But I must move on
Though every step we took breamed with warmth and l'amour fou
In your eyes I was an equal, you coddled me so
Farewell, Mr. Petal, I'm teething in tethers
And now I must go
Though the place where I'm going may seem distant and forlorn
I'm smitten and willful, please sit with the change
So farewell, Mr. Petal, my whim's a-calling
I must follow it for while
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5. |
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Who killed the electric car,
Why and what's the reason for?
"Not I," says the government,
"Don't point your finger at me.
All we want is clean air,
No pollution and no sedition.
But the lobby groups would've booed,
At not getting their money's worth.
It's lamentable the car had to go,
But there was a pressure on me too, you know.
It wasn't me that pulled the plug.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed the electric car,
Why and what's the reason for?
"Not me," says General Motors,
Puffing on a big cigar.
"It was a hard sell,
But I always thought that it'd do well.
It's lamentable for the environmentalists he's dead,
But if they knew better, they should've said.
It wasn't me that pulled the plug.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed the electric car,
Why and what's the reason for?
"Not me," says the engineer,
With the plans still in his hand.
"It wasn't me that claimed limitations,
My hands had no part in the machinations.
I could have enhanced the design,
Made it a car for you and I.
It wasn't me that pulled the plug.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed the electric car,
Why and what's the reason for?
"Not me," says the oil company,
Whose monopoly it had to maintain,
"No, I ain't to blame,
I was just playing the game.
Market forces are here to stay,
It's just the old American way.
It wasn't me that pulled the plug.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed the electric car,
Why and what's the reason for?
"Not me," says the man who did the deed
Shredding the car in a dissonant heap,
"The car was quiet, the car was fast
The car produced no exhaust smoke.
Yes, it's true, it ran without petrol,
But what was I supposed to do?
It's just what I am paid to do."
Who killed the electric car,
Why and what's the reason for?
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6. |
Don't Stay, Honey, Go
05:09
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We came upon a shady thicket
It was tea time and Tuesday's jam was in your hands
Time flew like an arrow
The veggies flew like an eggplant
We lay beside the autumn leaves
We ate a lotus and skinned a cactus
A raindrop grounded a swallowtail
You made me feel so loved
Even so, I'll never eat my hat when I speak as follows:
"Don't stay, honey, go
Although I'll miss you
The bells cough: 'it's over'"
The morning cloaked the escapade
My muse was mugged by an unbending will
"Let's buy a home, let's settle down"
Bob's your uncle
It's been a long time but I've finally grown
Into the man I always was
The dish ran away with the spoon
You made me feel so loved
Even so, I'll never eat my hat when I speak as follows:
“Don't stay, honey, go
Although I'll miss you
The bells cough: ‘it's over’”
For what am I to you?
A walk home in the dew?
An apple and a hug by the orchard?
Oh heaven-murdered one
Please indulge me some
Meet me at the dock in the evening
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7. |
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8. |
The Seasons
04:36
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9. |
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"The olives may now be picked
They lay waiting by the hill"
Many a time I've said so to my child
She's young but she's growing daily
Father, dear father, do you not know what you ask?
If the settler on the hill sees my shadow cast
Many an hour he will knock me all about
He remains and he grows unruly
Daughter, dear daughter, I know to where it is you're sent
The olives must be picked, our livelihood sustained
Many a time they came onto our land
They remain with no will of sharing
Father, dear father, if you see fit
Hebron this is not, nor is it a mountain of beasts
I'll go to the checkpoint with my head held high
I'm young but I'm growing daily
One day I was looking beyond the dividing wall
I spied the harvest with a hope for them all
Many a time my daughter was there at work
Oh, she's young but she's growing daily
At the age of thirteen, she was a married gal
At the age of fourteen, a mother of a child
At the age of sixteen, her grave it was dug
Now I watch over her child as he's growing
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10. |
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When I first came to the West, a doctor there to find
A charlatan in an alleyway was pleasing to my eyes
Her canny nose, her sultry mind, so did me entice
She said her name was Moccasin, the loafer of the West
I asked her "Do you know where, a doctor I can find?"
"A man with a bad heart, medicine he needs."
"Follow me, and on the way, I shall tell you a tale."
Thus spoke Moccasin, the loafer of the West
We walked past Lilly, and company
"You see those cats there, freeing the world to death
They create patients, they do not create cures."
A conclusion of Moccasin, the loafer of the West
"Given a dilemma, you get to choose your horn
Good politics but awful policy.
Children starve while food rots slowly on the shelves."
Thus spoke Moccasin, the loafer of the West
Away down in yonder shady grove, a dagger in her hand
She stepped up to her rival and pierced him to the breast
Although she swore her life away, deprived me of my rest
Still I love my Moccasin, the loafer of the West
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11. |
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Mon coeur vous tire par les pieds
Qui se détache de moi, comme un goéland sur le rivage.
O mon coeur, quelle nouvelle clame-t-elle?
Coureur infatigable
Dans l'atmosphère avide où ne pousse plus rien.
“Il fait froid sous vos paupières”
Mon coeur, se propage, gorgé d'aise
Roulé dans tes senteurs, et flotte la surprise
O mon coeur, quelle nouvelle clame-t-elle?
Coureur infatigable
La distance m'entraîne en son mouvant exil
“Il fait froid sous vos paupières”
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Bud Petal Sydney, Australia
Bud Petal’s music has been described as “cerebral art-folk”, “a true outsider, a freak-folk wunderkind”.
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