1. |
Florian – FREE DOWNLOAD
03:44
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Florian
I am breaking the seal of the bunker:
I am heading out on my bicycle
for an afternoon of the avant-garde,
wanting sunflowers to make my eyes ache.
Won’t you come to the arthouse cinema?
We can be our own sound installation, oh yeah.
Wanting icecream—secretly wanting you—
I envision a rain-soaked rendezvous.
Are we operating in synchronicity?
A robotised mannequin will stand in for me.
I have always been reclusive, yes, that is true,
but I could give you an exclusive interview.
Florian—let’s cut loose like Florian,
searching for a gentle simplicity.
Florian—let’s be subversive like Florian.
Let’s live like him: experimentally.
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2. |
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Seven Springs
Sugar beet and winter barley,
hawthorn blossom and Queen Anne’s Lace.
Ayckbourn in Scarborough, Larkin in Hull.
Ayckbourn in Scarborough, Larkin in Hull.
California to Bridlington: Hockney.
In cap, in boots, in all weathers: Hockney.
David’s on the tail of the muse,
on the tail of the muse,
on the tail of the muse.
David’s on the tail of the muse.
He’s looking into things,
and things are looking up.
The hand; the eye; the swollen heart;
the tallness of trees; seven springs.
A sweep of history; an old man’s art;
the tallness of trees; seven springs.
The hand; the eye; the swollen heart;
the tallness of trees; seven springs.
A sweep of history; an old man’s art;
the tallness of trees; seven springs.
Things are looking up for David Hockney,
carefully watching seven springs.
It’s not a place on the way to anywhere else.
Hawthorn blossom and Queen Anne’s Lace.
Vivid canvases laid as if in a bread-van,
nine cameras manipulating space and time.
Ayckbourn in Scarborough, Larkin in Hull.
Ayckbourn in Scarborough, Larkin in Hull.
California to Bridlington: Hockney.
In cap, in boots, in all weathers: Hockney.
David’s taking on the big guns,
taking on the big guns,
taking on the big guns.
David’s taking on the big guns.
He’s looking into things,
and things are looking up.
The hand; the eye; the swollen heart;
the tallness of trees; seven springs.
A sweep of history; an old man’s art;
the tallness of trees; seven springs.
Things are looking up for David Hockney,
carefully watching seven springs.
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3. |
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Morrissey and the Hunchback
Are we in accord?
Are we ready to record?
She went
shoeless in Salford for Morrissey.
She went
shoeless in Salford—
shoeless in Salford for Morrissey:
that’s what she always said;
you never really knew what she meant.
She had the look of Edith Sitwell about her—
the frail bones and intricacies of a goldfinch.
She was a hunchback.
She was a hunchback.
She was a hunchback.
She was a hunchback.
She was the exception to the rule:
shunned;
spurned;
a praeternatural phenomenon in a
shabby comprehensive school.
“My nan’s a hedge-mumper,” she often used to say.
“My nan’s a hedge-mumper.”
“My nan’s a hedge-mumper.”
“My nan’s a hedge-mumper.”
She went
shoeless in Salford for Morrissey.
She went
shoeless in Salford,
ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
That’s what she always said;
you never really knew what she meant.
Urchinular, she hauled herself onto the stage,
grubby fingernails clawing at the
shirttails of the bequiffed messiah;
you see,
he took her higher.
He took her higher.
He took her higher.
He took her higher.
She was a hunchback.
She was a hunchback.
He took her higher.
He takes her higher.
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4. |
Summer in England
04:20
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Summer in England
Summer in England
opens its arms to you.
Summer in England
opens its arms to you.
In a decade of decadence, the powers that be
raided Ma Meyrick’s 43,
but again and again, out of black and white,
she stares defiantly: Queen of the nightclubbing scene.
Through the Roaring Twenties, the dancer Squidgerella moved,
always to her own tune,
penetrating the fug like a silver moon-spur—
penetrating the heart of the agent provocateur.
Squidgerella transformed her world
into a work of conceptual art.
Squidgerella channelled her rage
into an age of revolution.
Summer in England
opens its arms to you.
Summer in England
opens its arms to you.
Elegant and unconventional
in the throbbing gardens of Garsington:
an eternally lonely Lady Ottoline—
the bohemian they dubbed ‘The Gypsy Queen’.
An exultation of skylarks,
an iridescing of kingfisher blue.
With the salted lime of her hungry lips,
Squidgerella is penetrating time for you.
Squidgerella transformed her world
into a work of conceptual art.
Squidgerella channelled her rage
into an age of revolution.
Summer in England
opens its arms to you.
Summer in England
opens its arms to you.
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Blue-John Vs Quidgybopper England, UK
Our music has found its way onto BBC national radio.
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