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They Might Be Giants




Альбом They Might Be Giants


Long Tall Weekend (19.07.1999)
19.07.1999
1.
Drinking
2.
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. . .

Drinking

[Нет текста]

. . .



Back in High School I knew a girl
Not too simple and not too kind
We both grew up, but I heard she'd changed
From a new wave fan to another kind

She think's she's Edith Head
But you might know she's not
The accent in her speech
She didn't have growing up

She think's she's Edith Head
Or Helen Girlie Brown
Or some other cultural figure
We don't know a lot about

It's been years since I moved away
But at Christmas I come home
And I saw her reflection
In the window of a store

She was talking to herself
Not too simple and not too kind
I walked on by, it was complicated
And it stuck in my mind

She think's she's Edith Head
But you might know she's not
The accent in her speech
She didn't have growing up

The accent in her speech
She didn't have growing up
The accent in her speech
She didn't have growing up

She think's she's Edith Head
She think's she's Edith Head now
She think's she's Edith Head
She think's she's Edith Head now

She's lost the ball

She think's she's Edith Head
She think's she's Edith Head now
She think's she's Edith Head
She think's she's Edith Head now

. . .



Maybe I know that she's been a-cheating
Maybe I know that she's been untrue
But what can I do

I hear them whispering as I walk by
She's gonna break his heart and make him cry
I know it's me they're talking about
I bet they all think I'll never find out

But maybe I know that she's been a-cheating
Maybe I know that she's been untrue
But what can I do

Deep down inside she loves me
Though she may run around
I know someday she'll love me
Someday she'll settle down

But maybe I know that she's been a-cheating
Maybe I know that she's been untrue
But what can I do

Oh, maybe I know that she's been a-cheating
Maybe I know that she's been untrue
But what can I do

. . .



Moths beat on the windowpane
Telling me I'm not the same
Sounds of nothing, sounds of fear
Speak to me when no one's near

I'm on Rat Patrol
I'm on Rat Patrol

Well, those disappear inside
Floorboards creak and footsteps heard
Headlights turn into the drive
Then disappear into the night

I'm on Rat Patrol
I'm on Rat Patrol

. . .



The token back to Brooklyn fell between the grating
And we're just watching it sinking
The fare went up to one hundred dollars
And we can never go home again
The bill collector's drinking lighter fluid
And says he'll tell our parents
Our feet start running at a furious pace
But we can't get away

. . .



You're older that you've ever been
and now you're even older
and now you're even older
and now you're even older

You're older that you've ever been
and now you're even older
and now you're older still

time - is marching on
and time - is still marching on

this day will soon be at an end
and now it's even sooner
and now it's even sooner
and now it's even sooner

this day will soon be at an end
and now it's even sooner
and now it's sooner still

You're older that you've ever been
and now you're even older
and now you're even older
and now you're even older

You're older that you've ever been
and now you're even older
and now you're older still

. . .



Operators are standing by
Smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee
Bounce their shoes at the end of their feet
And wish they could go home

Operators are standing by
Poking holes in the ceiling tiles
Making jokes about their old boyfriends

Operators are standing by
Talking about their portrayal
On T.V. where an actress sits
With a headset in outer space

That's enough talking, ladies

Operators are standing by
Smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee
Pass round the picture of a Mobius Strip
And wish they could go home

And wish they could go home

. . .



No taxi could take you,
No trains rolling by,
No bicycle shop,
No planes in the sky.
Planes in the sky.

Not a night spent in jail,
Parrot on my arm,
Not a man of the world,
No patch on my eye.
Patch on my eye.

Dark and metric is my town,
Every day and night.
Just because you're floating
Doesn't mean you haven't drowned...

No spoiler, no windscoop,
No mag wheels in back,
No hydraulic shocks,
No privacy glass.
Privacy glass.

Dark and metric is my town,
North, east, west, and south.
Just because you're smiling
Doesn't mean you haven't drowned.

. . .



Each night I lie awake
Completely alone
A voice is calling, and I tremble
For it's not my own
My own
I can't ignore it
Although I try
The intrusive whisper fascinates me
Here's why
Here's why

The secrets gather 'round as the voice recites
The secret history of my immortal soul

Indestructable
Indefensible
Reprehensible
10,000 years of unerasable acts
And permanent facts
The record of my
Unspeakable crimes
In previous lives
In previous times
Indelibly stains
The pages of history

Indestructible
Indefensable
Reprehensible
Night after night a voice recites my misdeeds
And puts me to sleep
But tells me that I
Won't remember a thing

When morning comes at last
I rub my eyes
Remember nothing and thinking
Only of my plans
My plans

The world is spinning 'round and I'm on the top
And nothing in the world can ever make me stop

Indestructible
Indefensible
Reprehensible
10,000 years of unerasable acts
And permanent facts
And only I know
Who's responsible
Indefensible
Reprehensible
Me

. . .



The few surviving samurai survey the battle field
Count the arms, the legs and heads, and then divide by five
Drenched in blood, they move across the screen
Do I need to point or do you see the one I mean?

The one in back,
the way he acts,
is he reminding you of anyone we know?
Isn't he so like certain people I could name?

Halfway through the 30 minutes
Halfway 'round the world
Here's the story of the genocidal overlord
In her palace with her epaulettes
Watch her little gestures as she lights her cigarette

Look at her you
must see it too
is she reminding you of anyone we know?
Isn't she so like certain people I could name?

Disembodied and detached a voice describes the scene
As a lizard stalks a helpless creature on TV
Music underscores the tragedy
Eyes with no expression watch the unsuspecting prey

Who is it like?
Doesn't it strike you as the very image of someone we know?
Isn't it so like certain people, how could anybody
miss the obvious
and the uncanny and the clear resemblance?
Isn't it just like certain people I could name?

. . .



Hey, hey, counterfeit fake
History wants you, they made a mistake
Hey, hey, counterfeit fake
History wants you, they made a mistake

Hey, hey, counterfeit fake
History wants you, they made a mistake
Hey, hey, counterfeit fake
History wants you, they made a mistake

. . .



Julie at the station says They'll be here any minute now
But she's running out of records and her show is ending anyhow.
They can hear her saying Their name on the car radio
But the signal keeps fading out no matter which way They go.
I heard They Might Be somewhere in this town
They Might Be Giants got lost driving around

John said to John, I think we make a left at the light
There should be a big crinkle, assuming this map is right
John looked over and said, Hey, no its not
It's a crumpled up wrapper from the fast food that we got
I heard They Might Be somewhere in this town
They Might Be Giants got lost driving around

Dan said to Hal, "I see somebody walking this way"
So They rolled down the window and said, "Hello. Hey excuse me, hey"
"Could you tell us where we are and the best way out of here"
They could tell from his expression he had absolutely no idea
I heard They Might Be somewhere near this town
They Might Be Giants got lost driving around
Driving around
Driving around
They're still driving around

. . .



Have you ever seen a bloody head?
Glass in hand, lying up in bed
That's the time to sing this cowardly lullaby
And you ought to know why

Lullaby to nightmares, whispered low
In the night where batwings flow
That's where all the frightmares go
When the elephants die
Wouldn't you like to try?

Have you ever heard the blackbird's song?
Summer days, all summer long
Underneath a shady tree a shadow sitting next to me
And we stare at the sun

Lullaby to nightmares, whispered low
In the night where batwings flow
That's where all the frightmares go
When the elephants die
Wouldn't you like to try?

. . .



Her burden of things walking out
Her burden of things walking out
On Earth my Nina
On Earth my Nina
God forbid a vaguer feat
National hell mock me
Say the sparrow wants a morbid arrow
Here's a quarter; that's the one I want
Maybe I'll buy the whirlwind
That always keeps me yearning
Her sitter's down there mourning
Her burden of things walking out
Her burden of things walking out
On Earth my Nina
On Earth my Nina

. . .



The Edison Museum, not open to the public
Its haunted towers rise into the clouds above
Folks drive in from out of town
To gaze in amazement when they see it

Just outside the gate I look into the courtyard
Underneath the gathering thunderstorm
Through the iron bars, I see the black maria
Revolving slowly in its platform
In the topmost tower, the lights burn dim
A coiling filament glowing within

The Edison Museum, once a bustling factory
Today is but a darkened cobweb covered hive of industry
The tallest, widest and most famous haunted mansion in New Jersey

Behind a wooden door, the voice of Thomas Alva
Recites a poem on a phonograph
Ghosts float up the stairs, like silent moving pictures
The loyal phantoms of his in house staff
A wondrous place it is, there can be no doubt
But no one ever goes in, and no one ever goes out

The Edison Museum, not open to the public
Its haunted towers rise into the clouds above it
The oldest, greatest and most famous haunted mansion in New Jersey

. . .


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