Postcards From Italy
Beirut
Gulag Orkestrar

The times we had
oh, when the wind would blow with rain and snow
were not all bad
we put our feet just where they had, had to go
never to go

the shattered soul
following close but nearly twice as slow
in my good times
there were always golden rocks to throw
at those who, those who admit defeat too late
those were our times, those were our times

and i will love to see that day
that day is mine
when she will marry me outside with the willow trees


Basic Space
The XX
XX

Neck, chest, waist to floor
Easy to take, you could take me in fours
Make me a deal, a day a piece
Take it all, just stay a week

I’ll take you in pieces
We can take it all apart
I’ve suffered shipwrecks right from the start
I’ve been underwater, breathing out and in
I think I’m losing where you end and I begin

Basic space, open air
Don’t look away, when there’s nothing there

I’m setting us in stone
Piece by piece, before I’m alone
Air tight, before we break
Keep it in, keep us safe

It’s a pool of boiling wax
I’m getting in
Let it set
Got to seal this in
Can’t adjust, Can’t relearn
Got to keep what I have, preserve


The Penalty
Beirut
The Flying Club Cup

 

Like an ancient day and I’m on trial
Let them seize the way, this once was an island
And I could not stay for I believed them
Left for the lights always in season

Impassable night in a crowd of homesick
Fully grown children, you’ll leave the lights
Your family may not wait, Sir, keep on breathing
Our parents rue the day, they find us kneeling
Let them think what they may, for they’ve good reason
Left for the lights always in season


Bukowski
Modest Mouse
Good News for People Who Love Bad News
Woke up this morning and it seemed to me, 
that every night turns out to be 
A little more like Bukowski. 
And yeah, I know he’s a pretty good read. 
But God who’d wanna be? 
God who’d wanna be such an asshole? 

Well we sat on the edge of the river, 
the crowd screamed, “Sacrifice the liver!” 
If God takes life, he’s an Indian giver. 
So tell me now why, you’ll tell me never. 
Who would wanna be? 
Who would wanna be such a control freak? 

Well see what you wanna see. You should see it all.
Well take what you want from me. You deserve it all.
Nine times out of ten our hearts just get dissolved.
Well I want a better place or just a better way to fall.

But one time out of ten, everything is perfect for us all. 
Well I want a better place or just a better way to fall. 

If God controls the land and disease, 
keeps a watchful eye on me, 
If he’s really so damn mighty, 
my problem is I can’t see, 
well who would wanna be? 
Who would wanna be such a control freak? 

Evil home stereo, what good songs do you know? 
Evil me, oh yeah I know, what good curves can you throw? 

Well all that icing and all that cake, 
I can’t make it to your wedding, but I’m sure I’ll be at your wake. 
You were talk, talk, talk, talkin’ in circles that day, 
when you get to the point make sure that I’m still awake, OK? 

Went to bed and didn’t see 
why every day turns out to be 
a little bit more like Bukowski. 
And yeah, I know he’s a pretty good read. 
But God who’d wanna be? 
God who’d wanna be such an asshole?

Float On
Modest Mouse
Good News for People Who Love Bad News

I backed my car into a cop car the other day
Well he just drove off sometimes life’s ok
I ran my mouth off a bit too much oh what did I say
Well you just laughed it off it was all ok


The World At Large
Modest Mouse
Good News for People Who Love Bad News

The days get shorter and the nights get cold. 
I like the autumn but this place is getting old. 
I pack up my belongings and I head for the coast. 
It might not be a lot but I feel like I’m making the most. 
The days get longer and the nights smell green. 


Future Starts Slow
The Kills
Blood Pressures

You can holler, you can wail
You can swing, you can flail
You can fuck like a broken sail
But I’ll never give you up

No longing for the moonlight
No longing for the sun
No longer will I curse the bad I’ve done
If there’s a time when your feelings gone, I wanna feel it


Skeletons
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
It's Blitz!

Visions of Johanna
Bob Dylan
Blonde on Blonde

Ain’t it just like the night to play tricks when you’re tryin’ to be so quiet?

We sit here stranded, though we’re all doin our best to deny it

And Louise holds a handfull of rain, tempting you to defy it

Lights flicker from the opposite loft

In this room the heat pipes just cough

The country music station plays soft

But there’s nothing really nothing to turn of

Just Louise and her lover so entwined

And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind.


Plateau
Nirvana
Unplugged in New York

Many a hand has scaled the grand old face of the plateau
Some belong to strangers and some to folks you know
Holy ghosts and talk show hosts are planted in the sand
To beautify the foothills and shake the many hands

The nothing on the top but a bucket and a mop
And an illustrated book about birds
You see a lot up there but don’t be scared
Who needs action when you got words