There is a road that meets the road that goes to my house and how the green grows there. We've got special boots to beat the path to my house. Your uncle was a crooked french canadian and he was gut-shot running gin. His guts were all suspended in his fingers and he held 'em in. This is the story of the road that goes to my house and what ghosts there do remain and all the troughs that run the length and breadth of my house and the chickens how they rattle chicken chains. We'll remember this when we are old and ancient though the specifics might be vague and I'll say your camisole was a sprightly light magenta when in fact it was a nappy bluish grey. The water rolls down the drain. O, what a lonely thing in a lonely drain. July - It never seemed so strange.
these are the [abridged] lyrics to a song by the decemberists called july!, july!, july!
this week is the decemberists week on seriusxmu (the station i listen to on satellite radio) and this is by far my favorite of their songs. it has such a catchy tune. i mean, these guys have to be some of the most creative musicians out there right now - this is just ONE example of the lyrics they come up with! they are so original. and so random! :) i just love them!