1. |
Money Boy
02:23
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They say that eighty men
Own half the entire world
Can they be wealthy when
Divested of my girl?
Still, that’s enough I’m happy with content
The money magic millions can keep their rent
Busy finding out there’s no wealth, but life
Busy not tryna be coy
I wanna be your money boy
My love is like the horses and hounds
Don’t wanna be your honey boy
Let the bees get jealous of me
One foot in the old mythology
The true gods owned no cash or modesty
Busy finding out there’s no wealth but life
Busy not tryna be coy
I wanna be your money boy
My love is like the horses and hounds
Don’t wanna be your honey boy
Let the bees get jealous of me
I have heard you speak winged words
That ‘every step we take be the breath of birds
When walking down the streets of joy’
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2. |
Paul's Dead
02:25
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The sun shines bright on a humdrum town
Where, Paul Kelly peddles mediocrity.
Voices amongst the football crowd
Say they’re up for a huge one at Crown.
Acultured, repulsive.
Blue suit, brown shoes
Don’t bash me (I’m sorry).
But the pantry boy’s sister says she knows
A thing or two ‘about the structures of oppression’.
Surely, she’d be the first to take a stand
For peace, bread, land.
Overeducated, overpenetrated.
The certainty, your pedigree.
Oh spare me.
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3. |
Head in a Plastic Bag
03:28
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I know why you can’t be brave
The things that keep you meek are the same
As the reason you walk unsure
It’s a part of you that can’t be kept in store
He’s caught between himself
Head in a plastic bag
Don’t try to call it wealth
Head in a plastic bag
I’m tired of the questions you pose
The inhaled exhaled air inside your nose
Find a word that rhymes with deceit
Weakness, treatment, receipt for last week
He’s caught between himself
Head in a plastic bag
Don’t try to call it wealth
Head in a plastic bag
The boring cards he’s dealt
Head in a plastic bag
Go to Bali and find yourself
Head in a plastic bag
(He’s the fire part of fire)
You move your body to the music but its always out of time
I won’t stay I won’t rewind
I won’t remind
You say that sameness is boring and security is a fad
That there’s a mystique and mystery that’s compelling and nostalgic about being bad
I suspect they will – they’ll accept it and embrace it, much more than I
But at some point you’ll touch the line
And more than touch it, you’ll probably lick its salty residue off the road
Then it will be hard to find comfort with anyone for an evening or a day
You’ll be looking for something more substantial, something that pays
You’ll do croissants on the palace du promenade de la romantique de la lygon st without sleep – still no luck g.
So you’ll go to disneyland take pingers and express yourself in front of children
But that won’t work either, nothing will work
Maybe that residual leftover comparatively new set of social life heavies will still have you though.
Maybe with your winter friends you can always be the fire part of fire.
He’s caught between himself
Head in a plastic bag
Don’t try to call it wealth
Head in a plastic bag
The boring cards he’s dealt
Head in a plastic bag
Go to Bali and find yourself
Head in a plastic bag
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4. |
Big Screen/Small Screen
02:29
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Like an apple now rotten
Or a language long dead and forgotten
The future is blind to the past
Like a woman in labour
Or a man convinced he can save her
We must let go of the things that don’t last
You’re not going to like
What comes after tonight
You're not going to feel better
With what comes after America
Your eyes were like terror machines
In them I could see the past
Let it all be sheared away then at last
Like a shining pane of factory glass
The larrikin is dead
Mismanaged and misled
I live my life through a screen
And sometimes a bigger screen
Are you the same as me
It’s too easy to stay standing
And remark upon the hubris of the moon landing
The larrikin is dead
Mismanaged and misled
I live my life through a screen
Sometimes a bigger screen
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