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The Shins
The Shins


Информация
Откуда Albuquerque, New Mexico, United States
Жанры Alternative Rock
Indie Rock
Indie Pop
Folk-Rock
Годы 1997—н.в.
Лейблы Sub Pop
Transgressive Records
См. также Broken Bells
Modest Mouse
Scared of Chaka
Fruit Bats
Grand Archives
Captain Go
Сайт Website
Состав
James Mercer
Dave Hernandez
Eric Johnson
Joe Plummer
Ron Lewis
Бывшие участники
Neal Langford
Mikael Yeung
Martin Crandall
Jesse Sandoval



Альбом The Shins


Wincing The Night Away (23.01.2007)
23.01.2007
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. . .



Go without,
'Til the need seeps in,
You're low anymore,
Collect your novel petals for the stem,

And glow,
Glow,
Melt and flow,
Eviscerate your fragile frame,
And spill it out in the ragged floor,
A thousand different versions of yourself,

And if the old guard still offend,
They got nothing left on which you depend,
So enlist every ounce,
Of your bright blood,
And off with their heads,

Jump from a book,
You're not obliged to swallow anything you despise,
See, those unrepenting buzzards want your life,
And they got no right,
As sure as you have eyes,
They got no right,

Just put yourself in my new shoes,
And see that I do what I do,
Because the old guard still offend,
We got nothing left on which we depend,
So we waste every ounce,
Of your bright blood,
And off with their heads,

Jump from a book,
And you're not obliged,
To swallow anything that you despise

. . .



Time to put the earphones on…
No!

Born to multiply, born to gaze into night skies,
All you want’s one more Saturday.
But look here, until then
They’re gonna buy your nice time
So keep your wick in the air and your feet in the fetters
To the day.
You come in doing cartwheels
We all go out by ourselves
And your shape on the dance floor
Will have me thinking such filth and gauge my eyes.

You’d be damned to be one of us girl
Faced with a dodo’s conundrum
Ah, I felt like I could just fly
But nothing’ll happen every time I try.

A dual tone under wall
Selfish fool and hoped you’d save us all
Never dreamt of such sterile hands,
You keep them folded in your lap,
And raise them up to beg for scraps,
You know, he's holding you down,
With the tips of his fingers just the same,
You'll be pulled from the ocean,
But just a minute too late,
Or changed by a potion,
We’ll find a handsome young mate,
For you to love.

You'll be damned to pining through the windowpanes,
You know you'll change your life for any ordinary Joe,
And though your night will go on,
Your nightmares only need a year or two to unfold.

Been in love since you were twenty-one,
You haven't laughed since January,
You try and make this up this is so much fun,
But we know it to be quite contrary.

Dare to be one of us, girl,
Facing the Andrum's conundrum,
Ah, I feel like I should just cry,
But nothing happens every time I take one on the chin,
You’re humoring your cote,
You don't know how long I've been,
Watching the lantern dim,
Starved of oxygen,
So give me your hand,
And let's jump out the window.

. . .



This lass,
Some fifteen odd years,
Is widely known,
To have spat,
In her teacher's eye,
And will not take it back,
For now I see,
How after all the cracks,
So rightly, I kid you not.

. . .



Frozen into coats,
White girls of the North,
Filed past one, five and one
They are the fabled lambs,
A Sunday ham,
The ancient snow.

And they could float above the grass,
In circles if they tried,
A latent power I'm known to hide,
To keep some hope alive,
That a girl like I could ever try,
Could ever try.

So we just skirt the hallway signs,
A phantom and a fly,
Follow the lines and wonder why
There's no connection.

And weakened falling eyes,
In cheap shots from the tribe,

And we're often in Marcus’ porch again,
Another afternoon with the gold head tunes,
And pilfered booze.

We wandered through the mama's house,
And the milk from the window lights,
Family portrait circa ninety-five,
This is that foreign land,
With the sprayed on tans,
And it all feels fine,
Beats circus slime,

So, when they tap our mundane heads,
To zombie-walk in our stead,
This town seems hardly worth our time,
And we'll no longer memorize or rhyme,
Too far along in our climb,
Stepping over what now towers to the sky,
With no connection.

Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo

So, when they tap our sunday heads,
To zombie-walk in our stead,
This town seems hardly worth our time,
And we'll no longer memorize or rhyme,
Too far along in our climb,
Stepping over what now towers to the sky,
With no connection.

Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo (repeat to fade)

. . .



Of all the churning random hearts
Under the sun
Eventually fading into night,
These two are opening now
As we lie, I touch you
Under fuller light.

Girl, if you're a seascape
I'm a listing boat, for the thing carries every hope.
I invest in a single lie.
The choice is yours to be loved
Come away from an emptier boat.

'Cause when the dead moon
Rises again
We've no time to start a protocol
To have us in.
And when the dog slides
Underneath a train,
There's no cry, no use to searching for
What mutts remain.

Throw all consequence aside
The chill aspire, people set alight.

Of all the intersecting lines in the sand
I routed a labyrinth to your lap.
I never used a map sliding off the land
On an incidental tide,
And along the way you know, they try
They try.

And we got sea legs
And we're off tonight
Can I've that to which they've no right?
You belong to a simpler time
I'm a victim to the impact of these words,
And this rhyme.

'Cause when that dead moon
Rises again
We've no time to start a protocol
To have us in.
And when the dog slides,
Open the door, and where’d she go?
There's no time, no use to searching for
The mutts remains.

Throw consequence aside
And the chill aspire, people set alight.

. . .



Hurled to the center of the Earth again,
The place where it's hot, love,
You know, it hurts to breathe in,
And the watershed you balance on is begging it,
Well did he ever know,
Will he ever know?

The trees in the moonshine are a dark lattice,
So you catalog in the angle you notice,
In a vacuum you recharge to record this,
So you won't make it easy on me.

And I can't go into this no more,
It puts too many thorns on my mind,
And the necessary balloon lies a corpse on the floor,
We've pissed on far too many sprites,
And they're all standing up for their rights.

Born on a desert floor, you've the deepest thirst,
And you came to my sweet shore to indulge it,
With the wan and dreaming eyes of an orphan,
But there is not enough,
There is not enough.

Out of a gunnysack for red rabbits,
Into the crucible to be rendered an emulsion,
And we can't allow a chance they'd restore themselves,
So we can't make it easy on you.

Undaunted, you bathed in hollow cries,
The boils were swollen, sunburned eyes,
A reward for letting nothing under their skin,
So help me, I don't know, I might,
Just give the old dark side a try.

Don't cast your warring eyes on the shore,
Did we even the score?
I still owe you for the hole in the floor,
And the ghost in the hall,
Who decides who paddles over the falls?
Yeah, who makes the call,
Who makes the call?

Well, I know there's an eventual
Release from every scale of crime,
But the necessary balloon lies a corpse on the floor,
We've pissed on far too many good intentions held by clever sprites,
And they're all standing up for their rights.

. . .



You can fake it for a while,
Bite your tongue and smile,
Like every mother does an ugly child.
But the stars are leaking out,
Like spittle from a cloud,
Amassed resentment counting ounce and pound.

You're entertaining any doubt,
Because you had to know that I was fond of you,
Fond of Y-O-U,
Though I knew you masked your disdain.
I can see that change was just too hard for us,
Hard for us.
You always had to hold the reigns,
But where I'm headed, you just don't know the way.

So affections fade away,
And do adults just learn to play
The most ridiculous, repulsive games?
On the faith of ruddy sons,
And the double-barreled guns,
You better hurry,
Rabbit, run, run, run.
'Cause meeting you was fun,
And there's a lot of hungry howlers in this one cell.
We’re taking it over,
Their brittle, thorny stems,
They break before they bend,
And neither one of us is one of them.

And the tails will never mend,
‘Cause you had it in for me so long ago.
Boy, I still don't know,
I don't know why and I don't care,
You don't hide me anymore,
If you'd only seen yourself hating me.
Hating me,
When I've been so much more than fair.
But then you had to lay those feelings bare,
One thing I know still got you scared,
You're all that cold iron,
And never once aired of our dead.

You had to know that I was fond of you,
Fond of Y-O-U.
So I took your lips at the time,
And to change like that is just so hard to do,
Hard to do.
Don't let it whip-crack your life,
And bow out from the fight,
‘Cause oh, how your sisters will write.
The worst part is over,
Now, get back on that horse and ride.

. . .



This goose is cooked, these tongues are tied,
Around the block and airborne blind,
But looking on the brighter side,
There's far less to which I’d be obliged,

In the meadow where the black breeze blows,
Where underneath the waves, you were most alone,
Can you hear a subtle, aching tone?
Through the water, through the Earth, trimmed up bone,

Looking on the brighter side,
Looking on the brighter side,
Looking on the brighter side,
Looking on the brighter side

. . .



I've done myself an impossible crime,
Had to paint myself a hole,
And fall inside,
If it's far enough in sight and rhyme,
I get to wear another dress,
And count in time,

Oh, won't you do me the favor, man,
Of a giving mind,
A polymorphing opinion here,
And your vague outline,

I'll find myself another burning gate,
A pretty face, a vague idea I can't relate,
And this is get what you get for pulling pins,
Out of the hole,
Inside the hole you're in,

It's like I'm pressed on the handle bars,
Of a blind man's bike,
No straws to grab, just the rushing wind,
On the rolling mind,

They want you to decide,
Eventually, it happens,
Some gather on one side,
With all their pearly snapping,
They close the basement door,
It sets our teeth to chatter,
You never saw it before,
But now that hardly matters,

You're old enough, boy,
Too many summers you've enjoyed,
So spin the wheel,
We'll set you up with some odd convictions,
Because you're finally golden, boy

. . .



The gutter may profess its love,
Then follow it with hesitation,
But there are just so many of
You out there for rent

A stronger girl would shake this off in flight,
And never give it more than a frowning hour,
But you have let your heart decide,
Loss has conquered you,

You've won one too many fights,
Wearing many hats every time,
But you wont win here tonight,

You've made it through the direst of straits alright,
Can you help it if plain love now seems less interesting?
You haven't changed an ounce in my eyes,
And I cannot lecture you,

And does anything I say seem relevant at all?
You've been at the helm since you were just five,
While I cannot claim to be more than a passenger,

But, you've won one too many fights,
Wearing all of your clothes at the same time,
Let the good times end tonight,
Oh girl, sail her, don't sink her,
This time,

Just a moment or two from now,
Not a mind will retain even a trace,
Of the thoughts that I struggled to tell
And how our stack of cards just fell,

So settle this once and for all,
The light no longer shows the cracks around my door,
And I have no lantern to light your way home tonight,

You are not some saint who's above,
Giving someone a stroll through the flowers,
You've got so much more to dream of,
Oh girl, sail her, don't sink her,
This time,
This time,
This time.

. . .



One hand on this wily comet,
Take a drink just to give me some weight,
Some uber-man I'd make,
I'm barely a vapor

They shone a chlorine light on,
A host of individual sins,
Let's carve my aging face off,
Fetch us a knife,
Start with my eyes,
Down so the lines,
Form a grimacing smile,

Close your eyes to corral a virtue,
Is this fooling anyone else?
Never worked so long and hard,
To cement a failure,

We can blow on our thumbs and posture,
But the lonely is such delicate things,
The wind from a wasp could blow them,
Into the sea,
With stones on their feet,
Lost to the light and the loving we need,

Still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing,

With burnt sage and a forest of bygones,
I click my heels,
Get the devils in line,
A list of things I could lay the blame on,
Might give me a way out,

But with each turn,
It's this front and center,
Like a dart stuck square in your eye,
Every post you can hitch your faith on,
Is a pie in the sky,
Chock full of lies,
A tool we devise,
To make sinking stones fly,

And still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing.

. . .


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