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Fair To Midland




Альбом Fair To Midland


inter.funda.stifle (2004)
2004
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Cipieron (Instrumental)
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. . .


I let them circle 'round and defeat me...

. . .


Take a little dive into the shallow or spy what do you see?
I see the tortoise and the hare in a rat-race and it fits like a glove under my sleeve,
Just wait 'till then.
Their heads are the heaviest in operation,
He has still not lost imagination.
You can hear him mouth the whole ending,
Just wait 'till then.

We Marys had ourselves a ball.
Oh, yes we did.
We Marys had ourselves a ball,
I must admit.

Hang us! Those limbs hold no virtue.
Those told to hold, project on my cue.
Until we fall.

Whether a he or a she, put your mouth where your money is.
Are the birds of a feather that clever?
If I knew I'd keep locks, that's a given,
Just wait 'till then.
Their heads cast shadows like skyscrapers.
Still small enough to fit up their asses, to put it all into perspective with definition.

We Marys had ourselves a ball.
Oh, yes we did.
We Marys had ourselves a ball,
I must admit.

Hang us! Those limbs hold no virtue.
Those told to hold project on my cue.

Oh, take a gander the bigger they are the harder they fall.
Oh, take a gander the bigger they are the harder they fall.

Not needy you see, not needy,
And I curse my open arms over trees.
Not needy you see.
Not needy you see, not needy,
And I curse my open arms over trees.
Not needy you see.
Not needy you see, not needy,
And I curse my open arms over trees.
Not needy you see.
Not needy you see, not needy,
And I curse my open arms over trees.

Listen to proven guarantees while you're rolling up your sleeves, beatin' on the chest.
But we can keep it in a jar, when it's comin' cats and dogs for days.
We Marys had ourselves a ball,
And I guarantee,
That what they've done for you, they've done for me, they've done for me.

Hang us! Those limbs hold no virtue.
Those told to hold, project on my cue.
Hang us! Those limbs hold no virtue.
Those told to hold, project on my cue.

. . .


Mountains of molehills, a grapevine in my ear.
Spots on the tiger, while the townspeople gather to hear;
While the nests in my hands starve for rest.

Sticklers for cheap fun,
You oughta be ashamed to trade in your heirlooms,
For black market all day parades,
For a grand prize a slap in the face!

And for you-
Bold-faced type covers your text.
It must have been winter.

Still frame, no dice.
Where do you get your evidence?
Move now, stay still.
It takes a luminescent hue.
The wood, the crest that's weaved outside your vest.
Still frame, no dice.

Loons light the skyline,
While you sleep on concrete, with both your eyes open.
I just kept pullin' on both your feet,
Someday together we'll breathe, breathe. (Breathe!)

And for you-
Bold-faced type covers your text.
It must have been winter.

Still frame, no dice.
Where do you get your evidence?
Move now, stay still.
It takes a luminescent hue.
The wood, the crest that's weaved outside your vest.
Still frame, no dice.

Mountains of molehills.
While the townspeople gather to hear.
Mountains of molehills.
While the nests in my hands starve for rest.
Still.

Still frame, no dice.
Where do you get your evidence?
Move now, stay still.
It takes a luminescent hue.
The wood, the crest that's weaved outside your vest.
Still frame, no dice.

. . .

Cipieron

[Нет текста]

. . .


Lucky are the leaves of the clover,
She's diggin' for chemistry with the butcher's tools.
Shifty are the eyes of the gambler,
The sand is a ricochet,
Taste my grit?

Through the motions waving wishes,
To your confidence and eloquence.

And he's turning a-green from these envious, glorious things.
Applied ambitious faith that can keep us all safe.
Invoking a blue that's meant for us too!
What large amazing things that we'll turn into rain.

Lucky are the one-headed car lights,
Those two are as thick as thieves, not a penny more.
Shaky on a cold wetted statue,
I'm diggin' for pattern leaks on unleaded fuel.

Through the motions waving wishes,
To your confidence and eloquence.

And he's turning a-green from these envious, glorious things,
Applied ambitious faith that can keep us all safe.
Invoking a blue that's meant for us too!
What large amazing things that we'll turn into rain.

Gather round,
Hold your glasses up high,
Drink to love, while we wait for high tide.

Keep it short, keep it brief,
You have my word.
Gather 'round, while we wait for high tide.

He's turning a-green from these envious glorious thing!
What small amazing things that will keep us all safe.

Your spots,
Your seeds lack fur.
We're all a mess as though,
We all have another.

. . .


We're gone but not better,
A lighted match can burn the cabin down he built.
It's not long but it matters,
Your suit and tie are much too tight in farmersville.

My daughter's a goldmine combing the hair of the white waves,
A fountain of sapphires under the bridges of Utah.
Instilled in us ethics not by God, but by our choice.
I can't even imagine,
But I can see it!

Tell them all to chop me off,
With left handed scissors rusting when you're touched.
On marble covered mountains you're the brimstone.

When surrounded by comfort cotton floors are of no use.
We see in our forecast what we lack in our pockets.
Encompassed by standards and we give ourselves all the credit.
I can't put my finger on it,
But I can see it!

Tell them all to chalk me out,
With oval arms and hopscotch eyelids.
On marble covered mountains you're my cargo.

We're gone but not better,
A lighted match can burn the cabin down he built.
It's not long but it matters,
Your suit and tie are much too tight in farmersville.
We're gone but not better,
(We're gone.)
A lighted match can burn the cabin down he built.
It's not long but it matters,
(Not long.)
Your suit and tie are much too tight in farmersville.

Tell them all to chop me off,
With left handed scissors rusting when you're touched.
On marble covered mountains you're the brimstone.
Tell them all to chalk me out,
With oval arms and hopscotch eyelids.
On marble covered mountains you're my cargo.

Tell them all to chop me off,
With left handed scissors rusting when you're touched.
On marble covered mountains you're the brimstone.
Tell them all to chalk me out,
With oval arms and hopscotch eyelids.
On marble covered mountains you're my cargo.

No, you're the brimstone.
Yes, you're my cargo.

. . .


(instrumental)

This town is made of starfish.
This town is made of starfish.
This town is made of starfish.
This town is made of starfish.

I need a seahorse.

. . .


Here is the deal, you must find guesses in this room.
Cut around the block, shake in the boots we stock,
I'll turn your onset to off.
With patience and much practice of keeping all this clean.
Wipe the floor with rust, Abigail's lost touch,
It makes for scattered debris.

For nine years, and square stars,
Tonight we have it all made.
For nine months, hands make much.
Tonight we have it all made.
Tonight we have it all made.

All the bells were out of unison.
I knew not why the latitude carried on,
And all of our signs were made to pray to synagogues.
I was built on binds of paperback.
I knew not if the stories were told or taught,
And all of our knees were carved in sand from Leningrad.

"On," said the rod and reel, and not a drop to drink.
But we say as we do and I'll do as I've said,
Until my tongue parts the sea.
"On," said that self-defensed texture of the reed.
And it climbs!
And it sings!
And it prays for freedom!

For nine years, and square stars,
Tonight we have it all made.
For nine months, hands make much.
Tonight we have it all made.
Tonight we have it all made.

All the bells were out of unison.
I knew not why the latitude carried on,
And all of our signs were made to pray to synagogues.
I was built on binds of paperback.
I knew not if the stories were told or taught.

All the bells were out of unison.
I knew not why the latitude carried on,
And all of our signs were made to pray to synagogues.
I was built on binds of paperback.
I knew not if the stories were told or taught,
And all of our knees were carved in sand from Leningrad.

. . .


What dreams,
Splendidly weaved from an atom bomb,
Retrieved from a teleprompt.
Practical, you are not.

What dreams,
You break the ice with a cotton swab,
A fever that cools us off.
A handshake's a contact sport.

No one was waiting to throw out the pilot.
We'll float on the back of the winds that you send us.

Another tomorrow, shedding the shade we made yesterday.
Disguised as the lightning, dissolving all of the thunder, then,
Appeasing our monsters under the acrylic skies.
Another tomorrow.

Another tomorrow fills up my front window.
Outlasting the west wind, and building ourselves in.

So fly,
Grab my hand, here comes the crash.
I live for the strong impact,
That renders both our airbags.

Seven folds,
Take's every letter you send,
Don't fold if you're made to bend.
Rekindle the feud again.

No one was waiting to throw out the pilot.
We'll float on the back of the winds that you send us.

Another tomorrow, shedding the shade we made yesterday.
Disguised as the lightning, dissolving all of the thunder, then,
Appeasing our monsters under the acrylic skies.
Another tomorrow.

Did you recognize your next door neighbor, today?
Did you recognize your next door neighbor, today?
Did you recognize your next door neighbor, today?
Did you recognize?

String up your harp.
Play like today will last five minutes.
This won't take long.
Sing us a song to stop the silence.

String up your harp.
Play like today will last five minutes.
This won't take long.
Sing us a song to stop the silence.

Another tomorrow, shedding the shade we made yesterday.
Disguised as the lightning, dissolving all of the thunder, then,
Appeasing our monsters under the acrylic skies.
Another tomorrow.

. . .


If there's a nurse that takes your ears in rations,
Sets a plate to feed the stifled steel.
If there's a nurse that feeds your germ-soaked dinners,
On a tray of bones and orange peels.

For yourself, you'd crash a seret word.
For some love, you'd fall to break your neck.
For yourself, you'd crash a seret word.
For some love, you'd fall to break your neck.

For yourself
For yourself.
For yourself.

For some love, you'd fall to break your neck (For yourself).
For yourself, you'd crash a secret word. (For yourself).

. . .


Pack up with what's worthy,
Lock it up in the car.
Don't be surprised if I drive too far.
Speak now and we're followed,
While the weakest react.
The nose on the siren is right on our tracks.

A pair of tripod's eyes, through streets of mercury.
Not as common as leisure days,
Not as modern as much too late.

And I sailed through the catapults, between April and May.
He quoted his price and that's what he'll pay.
He spread thick like a heathen.
The clouds buried the chalk,
While the soot on our throats,
'Till our engine stops.

A pair of tripod's eyes through streets of mercury.
Not as common as leisure days,
Not as modern as much too late.

Pearls and oysters every each turn,
Grow the lilac near the grub-worm.
Push the button closest to him,
Give me glue so I can stick to plan.

Pearls and oysters every each turn,
Grow the lilac near the grub-worm.
Push the button closest to him,
Give me glue so I can stick to plan.
I can stick to plan.

But instead, but instead.
But instead, but instead.
But instead, but instead.
But instead, but instead.

. . .


And let me introduce you to a pair that strikes crude oil,
But I see pyrite.
It is the same old pattern: the goose that feeds the gander.
They choose to act, but not I.

Let's go outside and it might restore us.
More for the fire that fights for the freeze, now,
Mechanical.

So then the pair proceeded, another pulse defeated.
Can't say that I am surprised.
It is the fly trap's color that caused the fall into her.
What is the shade that you saw?

Let's go outside and it might restore us.
More for the fire that fights for the freeze, now,
Mechanical.

Bound by the salt, not your earth.
The hat mocks the rabbit, while the bee stings the shark.
Stop the start, these are my disguises.

Vinegar and water gave the end away.
Bought my stocks and lost 'em, while the suitcase said:

Let's go outside and it might restore us.
More for the fire that fights for the freeze, now.

Let's go outside and it might restore us.
More for the fire that fights for the freeze, now,
Mechanical.

. . .


Glow but don't shine,
A fuse for a blueprint,
Devices my hands built.
For, for these roads want the rain and my raincoat,
Drown in the flash flood.

For we are alive.

Give, given air, not used to alfresco.
Does the sun know?

Today I forgot the zeros and ones.
Told you to conquer the rush.
Sunday I remembered paper beats rock.
Reached a mile high if I reached a foot.

Leop, leopard skin is not above or beyond,
No more a prince than a frog is.
For, for these roads should not have shed for a witness,
Or taken bites to avenge us.

For we are alive.

Give, given air, not used to alfresco.
Does the sun know?

Today I forgot the zeros and ones.
Told you to conquer the rush.
Sunday I remembered paper beats rock.
Reached a mile high if I reached a foot.

I'm figuring out, the one thing he's not.
Is above and beyond.
And no one's packing up, taking off, or waving goodbye,
For we are alive.

Today I forgot the zeros and ones.
Told you to conquer the rush.
Sunday I remembered paper beats rock.
Reached a mile high if I reached a foot.

. . .


I'll give you a home.

. . .


You could've been raised in Africa,
We lacked in our vigor,
Been an "X" on the calendar.
Losing our cool in Antarctica
So I put my coat on ya,
The breeze was light burgundy.

I learned you stand in Istanbul,
So I send you my Morse code,
Till you capture the syllables.
Subtracting the fees under carried time,
Somewhere over the Great Divide,
Blacked like a candlestick.

You could've been raised in Africa,
We lacked in our vigor,
Been an "X" on the calendar.
Losing our cool in Antarctica
So I put my coat on ya,
The breeze was light burgundy.

I have an army suited and ready,
For you to simply take a bite and steer.
We're more than prepared to fight this unfair,
All you need do is tease your taste and steer.

()

Your crimes are not mine or theirs,
Weary from the wear you invent.
I forget.
For some time,
I've been underground and dug to the sound of your breath
I forget.

Your crimes are not mine or theirs,
Weary from the wear you invent.
I forget.
For some time,
I've been underground and dug to the sound of your breath
I forget.

Your crimes are not mine or theirs,
Weary from the wear you invent.
I forget.
For some time,
I've been underground and dug to the sound of your breath
I forget.

Your crimes are not mine or theirs,
Weary from the wear you invent.

I forget...

. . .


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