All songs written by Stephin Merritt except where noted.
Some Summer Day
Some summer day, we'll dance again and -- come what may -- I love you. Goodbye, my friend, goodbye. Fly far away from vile abuse. Some summer day I'll see you; till then, refuse to sing.
When black waves break on the world, you make the pieces go to Poppyland. Wished-upon moonbeams and abandoned dreams, the fall like snow on Poppyland. And when the bloom is off the rose, man, Poppyland is where it goes. In the tame gray here, we all disappear, but the walls have eyes in Poppyland. All your favorite things are painted on the wings of the butterflies of Poppyland. And the people the gods forgive, man, Poppyland is where they live.
Maria Maria Maria
You'd better go now or you'll be late for your train. Right about now, your husband is raising Cain. It's not psychosis, it's just fear, but leave those roses here. Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria (Maria), will I only love you from afar, like loving a cloud, loving a star? Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria, will you never know how beautiful you are? When I said why can't we just be together, she waved goodbye and walked across the heather, and then I took off my disguise. I wonder if she ever cries. I wonder if she ever knew her lover was her husband too.
This Little Ukulele
I wish I had an orchestra behind me to show you how I feel. Well, the orchestra remains imaginary, but this little ukulele's real. I wish I had an orchestra behind me. When you lose faith, an orchestra gives proof. Well, an orchestra can tell you pretty stories, but this little ukulele tells the truth.
Tiny Flying Player Pianos
Tiny flying player pianos carried aloft on the breeze; as evening falls, they hang beneath the eaves. I hear their tinkling cacophony till, one by one, they sleep. Oh, if only I could sleep.
Lorraine MacLean's strange paintings change the rain-stained Maine terrain. Pain rain, Lorraine. "Teasing bees is easy," wheezed Louise. "These bees are teased." Tease these, Louise. Jill's drill skills instill ill will. A shrill trill fills the hills. Drill still, li'l Jill. Jo-Jo knows the snow slows, no, no, Jo-Jo slows the snow. Slow snow, Jo-Jo. Lulu glues two blues shoes to tutus to lose the blues. Glue, Lulu, glue.
Copyright (c) Sep 2002 - Mar 2006 by The Distant Plastic Treehouse