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lyrics

What he really loved about this neighborhood on the West side of Brooklyn
was the small hour between night and day,
when dawn faded in through the brownstones,
the streets slowly crowded with people,
and the Interdimensional Diplomat came in, through sky.

At seven, I met the strangest people;
the girls in the living room taught me how to laugh at television,
or friends who screamed at their socks,
or the boy who sang "joy, joy, joy"
and screamed at people in the showers,
and friends who screamed at their socks would scream
fairy tales aloud,
while having strange relationships with girls who rode donkeys,
and none of these people would be forgotten,
as these people were not the foes modern television and adult superiors
would make us out to believe,
because even in the darkest hour,
we knew we were all safe from each other.

Gold was the real problem;
the gold, which shuts your eyes in the middle of the day,
and tells you there is nothing you need to see here,
but I want to see.

I want to see everything,
with my eyes wide open;
but gold, gold of modern television,
gold of adult superiors,
is warping my mind beyond control,
and it's spreading
everywhere.

It can't be diagnosed,
because everyone has it;
and now that everyone has it,
who needs to cure it?

The gold tells you exactly what you want to hear.
You walk down the street;
to the left, there was a murder yesterday.
It tells you to turn to the right,
and you never have to turn left again.
To the right, there is a beautiful woman;
you turn to the left,
and you never have to turn right again.

On my way up the road, a woman pulled up in a car;
she asked me if I needed a ride.
I could swear she said
"come with me, if you want to live."
I said "no, thanks";
everything changed after that car drove off.

On my way up the block, I saw a black squirrel;
I kept walking, like I always did.
Some people just get lucky;
I was stuck inside who-knows-where,
and in this neighborhood on the West side of Brooklyn,
in the small hour between night and day,
when dawn faded in through the brownstones,
and the streets slowly crowded with people,
the Interdimensional Diplomat came in,
through sky.

credits

from More than the Nightmare Station, released July 7, 2013

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Cannonball Statman New York, New York

Romantic punk.

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