1. |
Snow Day Whaling Song
06:01
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Oh - snow day whaling song
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2. |
Valenciennes
02:50
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hey there sunshine, make your mind up. are you trying to find us or were you planning splits in the feeling of... let it all go. Hey, that's a reason to enlarge on your theory that the kids in the Med are raised a little like pastimes - they never last long. The time was that everybody knew. The prophet had arrived, and everybody knew. Hey there Pablo raise your eyes, take a while to figure out t prescient moment of surprise that you work for. Let it all go. Blind for a passage to relate to - you'll never move - flail to the edge of the silver and you'll never be there. you won't last long. Everybody's got to lose sometimes, Pablo - even at sea - and you talk like you're worried with your hands all aspray. would you die for your living out here and a family day? you were the hope of the Mestalla, that capitan's choice for your poise and your levity. bricks to be built. you're happy in a way but you never put your finger on it. Everybody's got to lean somewhere. you copied and fell. there's a hole in the middle, there's a patch on your side where the wool floods out. It's a crisis and you can't say why. Say why. Everybody's got to lean sometimes.
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3. |
A Little Racetrack
02:30
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You are a wrecking ball, you are a break-wing. Serve mojitos strong, we make you safe indoors. You're a racetrack, I'm a little accident. I'm an accident, you're a little fox tail. You are the raccoon's stripe, you are the test thing. Markets at your back, you wouldn't set me down. You're a moon-step, I require oxygen - I'm a catalogue, you're a little racetrack. Oh, how your face was reddened, hey. You spend ages on ages as you blushed out, leaving in layers. Oh, now your goal got flattened, hey. You look down like you're reading, as you breeze out, setting a level.
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4. |
Steer Yourself
03:47
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Steer yourself away from harm. Can you steer yourself away from harm? It's a neighbour. Rolling, we slide like a barrel - it's open on me. Coping, we stick like a tongue and it's open on me.
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5. |
Hey Jurassic
02:44
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Hey jurassic, when you sold your assets was the sanest deliberate motion you made. designing with precision timing starts a great adventure - forward, we may. Ending with the cobbled streets, we light up cracks and keep us safe 'til home. Grounding with a settled plan, you desiccate and tear the lining. Let it down, let it fray - all bells rust away. Pat it down, it's OK. Hey jurassic, when you sold your assets was the plainest decision linked to the brave. Retiring on a bordered lining sits a one-off set top. Sordid, we may. Clinging fast to the bow. Teary-eyed, choking, cracked under sacks, we dive way down since the radar. Blipping ticks on a screen. Bor, you push the bar and so we dive way down since the radar.
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6. |
British Sisters
02:58
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Your sister has a brickie's back and a knapsack that she fits everything in, and she posts the smallest details on, in detail on your skin. Capital words that pause to break and fly over you and over trees. Over you and over houses. You call a gangway, who called the violin? Towers and a wasted view - soaked and we're the storm's eye. Adapted to a breeze-like you - gracious and recoiled while she falls down. Miraculously feet-first, landing in the wet dirt. We won't fight you for a limit or a second slip for what was in it or... Your sister has a loaded gun and a top-knot she straightens every day, and she passes judgement soundly in a mock-ambivalent way. Drama divides to reach and snatch at you.
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7. |
FS(HR)
01:34
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[homemade hiss]
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8. |
Ssamzie Song
01:53
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Catching up on waves and you're happy - not here - that's your idea, Ssamzie. Moving upstate, dodging acrobat ombri, that's your idea. Not for us to say what's happening here. That's your worktop season. Yes, you'll have a say where you're travelling, dear. Your adventures make you that much braver - we call 'Ssamzie', you're not listening. Oh! Oh my life, there's stars around you! trying out step-tops, piling up presents, you're a windless break-weight. Oh my life there's stars around you, tail up, trapped if i could only catch you. A scamp-ringed spotter is the worst it comes to.
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9. |
X to Confirm
02:54
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All you sailors here make a scene, and the river (not fear) makes the man, oh. Catching all the rattles in your sleep says a lot for the source of all your battles, but it's not the same river, you're not the same man. Kiss to confirm OK. The kids could say something more. It's an 8-hour flight to home, but you are home. All projectioneers take a light home, and the ghost says she's had a bellyful.
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10. |
Bedingfield
03:29
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I know you advise the rest to beware of lists and other operators. We go around the seventh seal - it's a rudder. Sorely you begin the strike. What's your aim inside this beast of a bell. Facing what you never name? Crushing sand on paint tubes. We've got the red-eye, punching out / arranging in. You look outwards from the pile, look both tired and immutable. We spend hours taking stock of the levels left here all the while. Face the rest-war. Staggering swing, your part's that you don't say 'no'. If war is a tease, torch the launch codes. A matter for seething. Crash the machines.
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11. |
In Columns
04:12
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Raised like a light and turned from behind. Doting - it's a reason to return from the fight. Reeling at the signs. Rain hammers down in columns. Shapes at your side pulled taught overnight. Rain in columns hammers down on your behalf. Following - that's the lack of leading. We've all been turned. In turn, you're far and near. Your radar - it's only sea. The ocean sets as it swells.
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12. |
Maxico!
05:43
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Winning central homes. Say what you want, it's footsteps on you. So arrest someone if you think that it's ready. Maxico's an exit. Do not disappoint. Maxico's for list-splits... leaving in a storm keeps them restless on you. Tip into a struggle, and disappoint. Maxico's an outline.
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13. |
The Luxury of Brakes
01:28
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Luxury of brakes: our endless talking is a mobius strip taped with cliche and counter-cliche. We cover, that's the worst thing we could do. Crying in the doorway of the cellar over you. You endless day, you backwards turnpike, you stare me out - you've given up on blinking just for lent. Do you have a recourse for the effort that's been spent? You sallow shill. That's the first thing that we do: crying in the bathroom over you.
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