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Self-Ignition
by
Silver Jews
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Lyrics
Oh self-ignition I can feel her suitcase sensing mine She was her own permission Miss nineteen ninety ninety ninety nine nine nine nine Charles James Sofa and a household truce And her every Wednesday night you can count her grooves I woke up in a house I could understand The descendants of defendants were making demands Gently thinking backwards On the psychedelic promises God make to me in the dark Some of these kids don't have words They're as helpless as parakeets in a park Couldn't believe it when I saw that you wrote That a burning passenger shouldn't ruin the boat If dreams are your body telling you its confused Then I've got a dream I think you could use All lace and fiction In the lawless rooms where you finally lost your health I read the evening edition And the pumpkin on the porch is trying to heal itself I don't like magic and I don't like tricks Havin' a hell of a time believin' we exist The mail man dreams he's Paul Revere He wants the whole town to buy him a beer
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