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lyrics

My darling Murina where are you going
clip clopping, clip clopping on high heeled hooves?
Back to the lighthouse.
Your bloomers on the the campfire.
The pride of your nation of genetilfcation.
They beat you on the dance floor like yoga on Sunday.
It fills up your bathtub with affordable chocolate.
You're crossing a border.
They sent back your order.
Your purchasing power is getting time to afford ya.
The time to do dishes.
Your wishes are fishes.
All of your needs are a powerful magician.
In search of venue.
So many to burn through.
We're always up for another fish on the menu.

And every time I hear you say, "I wish things were another way."
I pull a pine cone from the sky and ask him if he'll be my guy.
And every day I hear you say, "Why do things have to be this way?"
I gather up my salad bowls and butter them like dinner rolls because you're tripping yourself on yourself.
You're tripping yourself.
You're tripping yourself on yourself.
You're tripping yourself.

The sun hits my eyes.
It fills me with lies.
But what does it matter.
The children all scatter.
They stare at the pitch when the truth's in batter.
I was walking after dark in Tompkins Square Park
thinking of all the ways that I can name drop New York.
I know that I hurt you.
It's an easy thing to do.
I heard what you said and I know some of it was true.
And every day you pull apart the macramé inside my heart and twirl it on a fort and spoon and serve it to a silver moon.
And every time hold your hand the music of your favorite band begins to play inside your head and drowns out all the things I've said because you're tripping yourself on yourself.
You're tripping yourself.
You're tripping yourself on yourself.
You're tripping yourself.

credits

from Senile Pie Strive Pip Melancholy, track released January 1, 2007
Sam Lazzara - Drums

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Major Matt Mason USA New York, New York

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