1. |
Toluca
02:49
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You weren't as starry-eyed as I was
Talking about childhood social stuff.
“Would you be my friend if I ate like this?”
I almost forgot that we could have fun because
Last week my feelings proposed a toast.
Did things get weird, do you think I’m gross?
The letter isn’t mine anymore.
Your eyebrows shrugged but I don’t need you to grieve for me
I said what I thought I couldn’t say;
I know it wasn’t a serenade.
What I rehearsed in my room
Would’ve been impressive to you.
If you get lost I’ll be the moss.
I’ll take us to the boardwalk.
We’ll be independent, sure,
But watch how I can be mature.
I went to camp to reinvent Kitsch
Does the nickelodeon still exist?
We can use it for a performance.
Dancing down a line of blimps,
Will I tell when you start to cringe?
Something I won’t be able to resist.
I salute you with this cup of tea.
“The crack on the side is making you leak.”
But the twitch in your hands was my first warning.
So when I get lost you will be the moss.
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2. |
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I knew they were rich by the way they left their plates on the table.
Diner food never looked so clean, their smiles were from magazines, they probably hunt from their balconies.
I can’t be sure if their coats were real fur
And how much of it is my business?
Be stoic, boy.
You’ve been cast to the middle.
Don’t heed the ferocious poise
It doesn’t have to be a riddle.
You can’t give time to things you don’t have to
But the concubine will always keep the older shoes.
National afternoon and the painting of birds.
I’d bet my hands you couldn’t count all of the foam fingers
Maybe we’ve been cured from not caring less
But wouldn't that be my own business?
Be stoic, boy.
You’ve been cast to the middle.
Don’t heed the ferocious poise
It doesn’t have to be a riddle.
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3. |
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You’re something to me, something to me.
Winter at the beach. Manchester by the sea.
What kind of food did you bring? The kind you eat.
Is it your specialty? What’s your specialty?
(vocal hook)
Let’s poke at the stars while lying on the car.
We’re lucky we all breath, say “we all breath.”
That’s so special to me, special to me.
(vocal hook)
Just stay next to me. Don’t curse me. No! i have
Multi-fractal needs; my love’s recycling. we have
Something to keep, something I need.
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4. |
The Entitled Mr.Lipp
02:58
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It just looks like violence to me.
But I’ve been reading into science lately.
I’ve been called to fan your ego
With pregnant worship.
The signs, they won.
I kept my knees low
When we were dancing
I wore two pairs of socks for the occasion.
I opened the door and brought you to safety.
Where’s my reward for being treated lazily?
I can’t erase or discover what Now is.
The loss of friendship couldn’t amount to this.
My frown doesn’t reach the doors of the monarchy.
My ambitions are on to me.
Opposed to wandering
I didn’t leave my home.
Appalled, this happens too often.
This just reads like a twenty-year-old baby.
But the excuse I had is beginning to escape me.
I’ll now walk away but walk away tastefully.
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5. |
Poaching and Patching
04:18
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Beauty marks on lips of innocent feminists
Seen from the hill and they won’t keep still.
It’s not that hard to behave when she looks at me and waves
But change is for the snails marching with their emails.
I hate politics, it’s as crooked as the highway
Don’t know what the mission was, but I know the suspicious ones.
It’s the weekend and I’m sick, I’ll go sit with the jellyfish.
We’ll be noticed soon, they’ll say that we’re all see through.
Burning movements I believe have been so quick to agree.
If it’s what everyone is telling me,
Then it’s true that my thoughts were never really my own.
Here lies my wealth floating and fasting,
Free to roam the modern lands, stop saying MODERN, man.
I was talking to the couch that occupies my best friends house,
Nomads don’t make rules, art is for selfish fools.
Love in this state comes with a stomachache.
Sharp corners and nutmegs branch over the valley heads.
Supine and worrying that God is just a ceiling.
I pray I’m not like them, my soul will be found again!
Boring and clueless I may seem like everyone thinks the way I dream.
But I hear what they’re telling me.
‘You can be something.’
Do you think that they’re helping?
Making us a company.
If I’m sure of anything, it’s that
Only poets know how to turn drama into hope.
Here lies myself, nowhere and happy.
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Human Yo-Yo Los Angeles, California
Human Yo-Yo writes experimental folk songs that float on humble electronics, scattered drums, and anxious melodies. With this established sound, Yo-Yo fills in the gaps with lyrics exploring personal experiences and a love of words.
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