Diamond Igloo Night Rally Initials B.R. Marconi Diamond Igloo on Bandcamp
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lyrics

‘02. SESAME (we never sleep)

This false Simois makes my
Medicine mean more. Substance
Drips from a finetip: spilt Ipswitch,
Piss on the bathroom tiles. I'm a nightshift
Kingpin: place all waste in marked bins,
Sweep up broke glass and butts and napkins--
Lipstick writ dipped in puddles as the footprints
Obscure the digits. I'm on to the "What If?"…

Some kid on an "I'm the shit" kick
Probably got hip to some hit-on business,
Approached the object and spit, and maybe she
Strobe-lights as something she isn't in the darkness.
Or maybe she dimes but won't commit to split.
And ass beats class so forget it. Or maybe she's
Perfect and everything is curtains.
I guess we'll never know for certain. At 4:10 I fill a

Wheeled yellow tub with a hose and the suds grow
Round in a fountain of bubbles for the crud.
The floor is sick with mixed ground and grit
And more stick than you know exists. I sit and quick
Mix one strong drink for myself on the tab
Of a credit card left, so I have for the task
A buzz for a well-parched throat that'll last
To preserve 'gainst the bubbling morass I attack.

I swear I rock me galoshes with some yellow
Wet-proof slickers on top. And every other
Pass with the mop I approach where the stage drops.
Nothing's gonna keep me off of that rock
Of Gibraltar. Altars are few and far between.
Only one thing relieves me: the pop of the PA,
Sound checks, instruments, DJs,
And house lights dimming as the world goes away.

Trains irrespective of course
Quit rails when the clock strikes twelve in the morning.
So after all the fares tip a cab ride home
And after all the clubs have closed, I make it so:
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open.
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open.
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open.
On three: Sesame!

1-2-3: Sesame!

I imagine all the cab companies elbow deep in pockets
Of government officials and reps. College kids
Will spend stills and still wander night's end.
Six in the morning, the trains start running again.
I been keeping public transit on my end for
Polishing my moves on a newly mopped dance floor.
I see the sound sys thump and board shut,
Back doors locked up and trash in the dump.

Some bum alarmed by what's up harrumphs
And cheers a half crushed up cup to beg funds.
Quick to defense, I don an indifferent mien,
And think upon exiles and immigrants, innocents
Apt at impediments, denizens masked 'gainst
Mold spore culture dishing Orleans tenements,
Aged bent 'gainst deaf senses. I shiver at the
Evidence and shuffle to the train, pensive.

What makes a man's heart harder
To targets of stars' stray darts? What takes a
Man's arm farther than powder and pity at a
"Spare a little change, pardner?"? What takes
The parchment arts beyond Hallmark Cards
If audiences maw sentimental jargon? And what it is if
The very next night parts us, the train parks,
We about face and disappear into the darkness?

What insists, when trains irrespective of course
Quit rails when the clock strikes twelve in the morning,
That after all the fares tip a cab ride home
And after all the clubs have closed, I make it so:
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open?
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open...
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open…

credits

from Initials B​.​R., released April 4, 2011

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