1. |
Begin and Begin
03:16
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Man on the bus wants to talk to somebody
I guess it's gonna be me
Stand at the service of this needy city
What'll it do when I leave
And trade it all in?
Each familiar shadow
Every subway ad, oh
Each cell of shed skin
Trade it all in
For the plain brown paper package
Clear the wreckage
Begin and begin
They say wherever you go, there you are
But can't we part ways for a while?
I'll take the high road and I'll take the low road
And when we meet walk single file
And trade it all in
Each familiar shadow
Every subway ad, oh
Each cell of shed skin
Trade it all in
For the plain brown paper package
Clear the wreckage
Begin and begin
And if somebody wants to keep me
God please tell me why
I'm not even good at sleeping
Though sometimes I try
And I'm not the kind of person
Who gets begged to stay
I'm not burning bridges
I'm just traveling a different way
I'm just traveling a difficult way
Man on the bus wants to talk to somebody
Bored with his own company
It's not my problem but oh it's my problem
Perhaps it's a thing he can see
Man, trade it all in
All the hallway voices
All synthetic choices
That tear and wear thin
Trade it all in
For the hard truths beneath them
World, bequeath them
To me and my kin
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2. |
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I don't want to say what's on my mind
And besides it isn't on my mind
It's out there
In the air
Like soot from a coal power plant
Staining every surface where it lands
Coats your teeth
When you breathe
I don't mean to say that it's all bad
Saw the note you left on my notepad
Traced the lines
Seven times
As night drifted in from the lake
I have never felt so wide awake
Who invented sleep?
Breathe in deep
Breathe in deep
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3. |
Old Union Songs
02:33
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In the junk shop you find an album
Of old union songs
You wander home alone
And put that dusty record on
And it's solidarity forever
You're the only one awake
You incorrectly feel
That something major is at stake
You're not the common man
You've got the common cold
But there's power out there somewhere
And things that can't be sold
You tell your high school friends you got an album
Of old union songs
But no one wants to hear you
Put that dusty record on
The voices sound so ancient
The slipcase smells like mold
On your floor you listen
Not completely unconsoled
You're not the common man
You're not a man at all
But there's a chorus waiting
Though your voice is small
And there's a common cause
You can hear it sing
A round that's rolling closer
Under everything
You'll burn yourself out by age 20
And then you will rest for a long long time
But they always forget to kill something
Old union songs stick in your mind
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