Opposite Day - Andrew Bird
The Decemberists — The Tain (Parts I, II, III, IV, V)
The room that you lie in is dusty and hard; sleeping, soft babies on piles of yards of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk.
Gotye — Bronte
Now your bowl is empty and your feet are cold and your body cannot stop rocking. I know it hurts to let go.
Busdriver — Casting Agents And Cowgirls
I used to say, fuck it. Wouldn’t placate the functionaries, too busy making playdates with buxom secretaries. But I hope that my homies don’t laugh. My choreographed dance steps are a little effeminate for a sociopath.