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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Active Entries
- 1: Reading your mind is like foreign TV
- 2: When you turn a solemn promise to a blatant lie
- 3: If one year's back on my shoulder
- 4: Me, I'm a rotten audience before I've had my coffee
- 5: I'm not on my own
- 6: You know what comes right after the dark
- 7: I wish I grew Annapolis apples up above Fundy Bay
- 8: Kicking a peach pit till I worry it's blue
- 9: I liked you better when you weren't cool
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