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lyrics

If I were a foreign deity I would not hesitate to ask you for your resignation as my prophet.
We can not have you and the future in the same business anymore (though the damage has been done)
and the money that we save on your relentless habits
will be given out to those afflicted by your lovely breasts

Say that I was a little bit younger and had a picture of a boy that I liked, you bet I'd keep that quiet,
you bet I'd keep that safe from all the taunting of the child in you and the child in me,
their stones and sticks, so hard, so supple.

Notice this: a way in is always a way out.
And memory's fickle nursemaid is self idolatry, trembling vanity.
Let her drown.

We made love to this smell only once, felt the soft warm dark of the earth beneath us,
tried to make the solemn cedars believe us that love is never vain.

But Memory hatches, memory thrives and lives, and will not be undone by a little black dress.
There's always here. There's always less.

credits

from Hans my Lion, track released March 15, 2011

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Flying Fox and the Hunter Gatherers Winnipeg, Manitoba

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