1. |
starsfade
04:28
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starsfade
these are my last orders, take my things and head for the border
cause I don't want to see you where we lived -- doing the things we did,
in places I should be.
I could be in a perpetual nightmare or lost in the circle of your soft warm light
keeping a record from your eyes.
Maybe I won't care at all but I think that I might.
You'll be in a brand new screenplay. Making it hard for me to recognize the way that you walked. The way you fell towards me, like leaning into a strong wind.
You'll drive faster to lose me, chase those lines and pass right through me
But you won't keep me, won't say my name. Cause I'm the one who failed to leave anything behind.
These are my last orders, take my things and head for the border
cause I don't know want to see you where we lived, doing the things we did in places I should be.
You'll be in a brand new screenplay. Making it hard for me to recognize the way that you walked. The way you fell towards me, like leaning into a strong wind.
And you said we'd want all the stars to fade from the fire behind our eyes.
And you said one time that it's far too late to make love not war,
to settle the score.
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2. |
be in the now
05:15
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I love the colors of the wheels as they spin, my head's full of bicycles, Curnoe let in. The spokes and the handlebars keep quicksand thoughts at bay, if I pedal hard enough I think I'll get away.
And be in the now, not the "what could have been". Be in the now, not the "what could have been" or the past we forget so quickly.
The puddles are still til I crash right in, the surface of the surface saves my skin - don't go deep, deep, deeper right down, you'll get mired in dark thinking, it'll pull you right down.
rap: A yellow bicycle, a shrine, 13 cyclists in the wrong place at the wrong time, they crested the hill at Delaware, unaware, 13 riders reflected off ashphalt. Was it mine, was it yours,was it the driver's fault? Rays of pale sunshine, accidental death, asinine. Blinded, blind-sided, accidental death, asinine. Greg Curnoe was struck by a pick-up truck, a distracted driver who didn't look up.
Deeds, abstracts, all facts, McFadden wrote it down in a poem in fact:" A barn floats in a lake" "the sky full of death" (he was no fake) "the angels covered their eyes with their wings", like his friend Greg, David could sing! Yeah, David could sing! Deeds, abstracts, 13 cyclists geared down on Highway 2 near Delaware town, it was 1992, on the 14th of November on a Saturday, Greg Curnoe was killed on a hill, the only cyclist to die that day. Greg Curnoe was struck by a pick-up truck, a distracted driver who didn't looked up.
Oh, you could ride, ride, ride til your legs were sore, but you'd never catch up with the yellow Mariposa. The spokes and handlebars, all shapes that he drew, if we pedal hard enough the memories will come through and
Be in the now, not the "what could have been" -- be in the now, not the "what could have been" or the past we forget so quickly...
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3. |
the bodies we leave
04:17
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the bodies we leave
and they found him, he was out at sea with a mouthful of salt & a color TV when he screamed: What are you waiting for? We’ll build this house, we’ll fish this sea for copper & steel, it’s all we need. We don’t need our history cause our heads are just for mouths and our legs are just for speed. When did we ever learn to breathe?
So wrapped up in the bodies we leave, yeah, we’re so wrapped up in the bodies we leave. Still wrapped up in the bodies we leave, yeah we’re still wrapped up in the bodies we leave. We invent our lives, follow rules long forgotten, invent cities and crimes, pretend we care who survives.
This cold will be hard to bear, so we’ll float our bodies out where warmer swells play. But mothers don’t fill their hearts & dreams with art & prose filled with fear & fire. We’re a one-track mind leaving it all behind. Is this heaven? But it’s one where we can breathe, one where we can eat, dance, drink & need. We’ll make our marks on these bodies we leave.
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4. |
suspended in mid-air
04:04
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suspended in mid-air
we've been waiting so long, you avoid every call
ignore our letters, you string us along
with evasive words, we'll put in a song
along with our hopes you've gotten better.
but the silence makes us wonder who you really are.
yeah, the silence makes us wonder if the addictions
still have you under their spell, or are you well?
could be you're fooling yourself, like you've fooled everyone else, for so long you've forgotten who you are.
If you'd come back to the band, we'd see you've become
a better man -- instead we're left with memories,
and unfinished melodies…
the words hang, suspended in mid-air
like the tricks you played with sticks
twirling them around til they crashed into the ground
like you did, like you did
we picked you up when you were down, you called our names when you were on the ground, but you could never get sober not even when it was over
& you took the train away
we still have your things, there's a few we want to keep
but we know that it's not right
so come and get your kit, it's you who belong to it
and the longer you wait, the harder it'll get.
maybe some day you'll come back & twirl your sticks
& play so loud it'll hurt our chests
& that'll make up for the rest…
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buttonfly London, Ontario
BIG NEWS: In 2024 we'll launch a new 11 track album "Secret Evening Radio". Early release tracks coming
soon...
Did you know...
1. Our 2017 EP "The Distance Between Us" has bonus 8 remixed tracks from our 2004 CD!
2. "A Map of This City" 2015, is 15 bittersweet songs, tangled & snarly.
buttonfly:
Linda B.& Pat T.: guitars & vocals. Dave T.: bass. Luke H.: drums. Brian S.: saxophones.
... more
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