1. |
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He's making careful observations through many-faceted eyes,
Watching memories fizzle and synapses fry.
This conversation is bleeding me dry,
With the fly on the wall of my mind.
He doesn't have much to say, but I'm holding up my end.
He hasn't got a name, so I just call him Brian.
He's trustworthy with my secrets, which is hard to find.
He's the fly on the wall of my mind.
When I ask a question, he moves his head side to side or up and down.
When I get philosophical, well he just starts buzzin' around.
If I was having a seizure, he'd just stand there like a mime.
He's the fly on the wall of my mind.
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2. |
Otter Pops
01:26
|
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shoes eschewed
toes wriggling like caterpillars in the grass
now running fast
the afternoon sun
mosquito hum
and small voices from the past
faces degraded by time
faded but graced and kind in my mind
arms reaching, anticipating
the sweetness and the cold
we were too bold, take a step back
the magic words we've rehearsed are now said back
then we receive and time stops
i can detail the packaging
the colors, the font, the scissored top
finally the moment's here
otter pops
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3. |
All the Dogs
01:48
|
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You wanna pet all the Dogs of Hell as they pursue you.
You're lounging, reaching for some food,
Every time you've got nothing to do.
Ignoring their teeth, exposing your throat,
Wondering why life is suddenly such a pain in the neck.
|
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4. |
Carrot Legs
03:12
|
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5. |
Little Rabbit
00:38
|
|||
If I was a little rabbit,
I'd have a little carrot.
I'd give it a nibble,
Every time I got near it.
|
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6. |
Ships Are Descending
02:37
|
|||
Breaking news: the ships are descending like vultures,
and the optimists are jumping off cliffs.
Those with long visions are changing their opinions,
and those with firm opinions are falling for tricks.
With heaven now open, its lasers and light beams,
it seems we're all broken but can't stomach the fixing.
With countdowns uncounted, the ships are descending.
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7. |
Checkboxes and Dropdowns
02:03
|
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I'm surrounded by knickknacks, pop art, and snack wrappers,
crumbs that I sweep aside, but they come back, hounded by ad trackers,
cookies and confirmations, half a mind to contribute to the tip jars of the hackers.
If I could burn it down but still be connected --
if I could destroy it without giving it up...
The contradictions concern me, but my glassy eyes see options,
Checkboxes and dropdowns and a button that says submit
|
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8. |
||||
the gnome with the chocolate cake
is mocking me, mocking me
he's making my stomach ache
and talkin with his mouth full
with crumbs in his beard
he starts singin, o tra la la
he's shakin my hand and his fingers are sticky
i ask
what should i call you
his smirk tells me everything
well everything except
what i should call him
Smirky the gnome reaches into his pocket
and out through the bottom of his pant leg
to pick up a crumb of chocolate cake
i can tell he's still mocking me
he stands up and brushes off his beard
and tips his pointy hat
and just like that
he disappears
i'm left with one question
it's just as i feared
he has taken the chocolate cake
chocolate cake
|
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