Today's sole redeeming feature has been the discovery of the Decemberists' "The Rake's Song," a reasonably hard-rocking murder ballad. The circumstances of its album's conception—inspired by Anne Briggs, going to feature Robyn Hitchcock—also make me happy, but right now not as much as singing headbangingly about infanticide.
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- 1: And then we shall dance on your graves
- 2: I'll never see my mom's guitar again
- 3: Finally, time to write the book on you
- 4: I stay quiet, but I'm seeing ultraviolet
- 5: All that skin against the glass
- 6: It's morphogenesis
- 7: On Fortuna's wheel, I'm running
- 8: I know it made your head spin, what we did with money
- 9: But now I'm a villain, I'm a killer, a dying light
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