1. |
US HWY 69 SOUTH
02:41
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It's a cold June morning as
My mother drives her golden Honda into the sunrise.
We pass the largest statue I've ever seen in my life
At least a three story tall-- Native American "Chief"!
We travel south on this beat up highway
Potholes bounces my sister in the back seat wide awake
the hour spent on the Indian Parkway is without signal
We are alone on this stretch.
It's enough to drive anyone crazy
But we're nowhere near our destination yet!
At the exact moment the dirt on the side of the Road
Turns from silt to sand, I know we're close.
Passing thru Paris, Texas, just an hour to go!
I'm headed to Texas, Grandma, we're so close!
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2. |
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The elegiac poet, close friend of Virgil,
Wrote in couplets, latin, I dare not pronounce.
Scribed more poems than I have songs
Although his life was not very long
I'm singing about Sextus! Sextus Propertius!
I'm singing about Sextus! Sextus Propertius!
Born in Umbria back in the day.
Father died before he could come of age.
Mother sent him to work a day job
His poetry indicates that was not on lock.
I'm singing about Sextus! Sextus Propertius!
I'm singing about Sextus! Sextus Propertius!
Rich young man, in with the son of consulate Tullius.
It was at this time he met her, who inspired Cynthia Monobiblos.
Brought into court by patron of arts Maeceneas
Falling out of favor with his past love Cynthia.
Died before he could finish his book four...
I'm singing about... Sextus...
I'm singing about Sextus Propertius!
I'm singing about Sextus! Sextus Propertius!
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3. |
Ballad for Banjo
03:15
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On a dusty Texas road where the turkey’s play
My grandma lives alone, grandpa a distant year dead.
I sit with dogs on her front porch and I remember.
Last year I was a worse and worse man, with
Disdain in my heart and sorrow in my mind. This
This year I made it through did not kill me.
And one day I hope to visit grandma one day in her new
House, far from where her goats and dogs once sat on a porch.
I hope her horse named after a stringed instrument drifts into
Sleep out on the plains and never comes back.
And I hope the books and art she published keeps after I am dead
Because part of me died the year I last visited her.
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4. |
An Uncommon Apparatus Missouri
An Uncommon Apparatus is edited and produced by one college kid who has a lot to say. Also appearing are a lot of other youth, who got a lot to play. Sometimes they say.
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