1. |
Beat Of Your Heart
03:27
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2. |
There Is No Sound
03:57
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3. |
Row Out To Sea
04:35
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4. |
Happy New Year
03:46
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5. |
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6. |
I Promised Her Gold
03:52
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7. |
And So To Sleep
03:47
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8. |
West to the Evening Sun
03:28
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9. |
Love Song To A Bicycle
05:03
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LYRICS
It was late one early afternoon, still bright, if a little dark, still night, if a little day, it was dawn, it was dusk, I was dead, that’s all I knew for sure. I wandered aimlessly along an old country road, aimlessly I wandered, aiming my aim at nothing, and I continued in this fashion until I was fashionably late in the early afternoon at dawn, at dusk, for nothing.
I was confused. How could anyone not be? It was a confusing situation. But then, suddenly, in the corner of my eye, something caught my attention which didn’t entirely displease me. It was a lady. No. It was a bicycle.
I moved in for a closer look, and was immediately struck by the singular beauty of her silhouette as she leant awkwardly, lonelily, I thought, against the rusted iron gate. Oh I loved her then, I love her still, I will love her yesterday as I did tomorrow and the day after the week before: “I love you” I shouted to her, from the internal rooftops of my mind, for I had not yet found the courage to speak those sacred words aloud. And so internally I continued, and I continued as follows:
What do you say, babe? You and me, me and you, you and me, me and you?
What do you say, babe? Would you be my love?
At this stage in the race, an element of doubt began to creep into my weary, weary bones. I was dead after all, she was a bicycle after all, it was unlikely, after all, that this.. was going to.. work. But who knows? Like Montague and Capulet, animate and inanimate, who knows? And why not? In any case, being dead, I wasn’t entirely animate anyway - inadequately animate at best. And though it’s true she was entirely adequately inanimate, an object, she was hardly. “I would never objectify you, our love is pure, our love is true”, I shouted to her from the internal rooftops of my mind, and I continued as follows:
What do you say, babe? You and me, me and you, you and me, me and you?
What do you say, babe? Would you be my love?
At this point in the proceedings, it came to my attention that while my internal monologue passionately raged, for all my love knew, for all my new love knew, I had some sort of medical staring issues. I panicked: “Oh Christ, how long had I been there? Oh Christ, what was I at? Oh Christ, what if she thinks I’m a weirdo?”. But no, my love she looked at me, my love she looked at me, she looked, her eyes, absent, from not having any, but still she looked at me, she looked at me and said: “Come, come, come, come”. So I moved a little closer and this is what she said: I think this is what she said:
What do you say, babe? You and me, me and you, you and me, me and you?
What do you say, babe? Would you be my love?
And I said: “consider it done”.
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10. |
Never-An-Ending
04:53
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