Prelude to No. 70
April 23, 2013 5:49 AM
Who's obsessed with the Magnetic Fields? Not me; that's who.
I have a mandolin, it isn't much like yours
In fact it isn't really even mine
I walk past it every day
And it blinks at me from the window display
At the pawn shop on Boylston and Pine
Swaddled in flax
Stuck 40 tacks
Into the band of my tiara
But I'm not complaining
Cause I'm in training
To be your holy martyred son
Life is a mess
But even bugs luminesce
I wanna be your Che Guevara
All the world over
Cleveland to Dover
They'll say we're numbers two...
And one
Some day I'll save enough
For an earnest blond chanteuse
Whose velvet chords are primed with earl grey
Her tongue will be the crumpet
Upon which I slather words
Enough to sing ten brand new songs each day
I have a mandolin, it isn't much like yours
In fact it isn't really even mine
I walk past it every day
And it blinks at me from the window display
At the pawn shop on Boylston and Pine
Swaddled in flax
Stuck 40 tacks
Into the band of my tiara
But I'm not complaining
Cause I'm in training
To be your holy martyred son
Life is a mess
But even bugs luminesce
I wanna be your Che Guevara
All the world over
Cleveland to Dover
They'll say we're numbers two...
And one
Some day I'll save enough
For an earnest blond chanteuse
Whose velvet chords are primed with earl grey
Her tongue will be the crumpet
Upon which I slather words
Enough to sing ten brand new songs each day
posted by t(h)om(as) (1 comment total) 3 users marked this as a favorite
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posted by umbú at 7:03 AM on May 17, 2013