All songs written by Stephin Merritt except where noted.
The Magnetic Fields: Plant White Roses
When I poured my heart out, blood flowed. I planted you, watered you with tears, and watched you grow away from me. So much for my green thumb. I've overstayed my welcome. Plant white roses, and plan to cry if I can't spend my life with you. Plant white roses. I wanna die if I can't spend my life with you. When you're gone I stumble and fall. I'm told you don't wanna stay around. Those trains call. You're all I need, but you need more than country songs. You need to be getting along... You'll have stay and watch them grow...
The Magnetic Fields: Beach-a-Boop-Boop
Every day and every night, we are really outta sight. Frankie's here, so's Annett. We're having fun, looking wet. We're at the beach. We're having fun. We're always surfing dusk till dawn. It's so hard to keep our swimsuits on... I'm gonna get me a groovy tan so's I can get me a groovy man...
The 6ths: Rot in the Sun
Something about the absence of any seasons, of any sense of time going by. Something in the endless procession of palm trees. Don't fall in love and you'll never die. You get signed to a major Top 40 label, blow David Geffen, blow Seymour Stein. You can make an atrocious Top 40 record no one will know in two weeks time. Let ending begin. Rot in the wind. The end has begun. Rot in the sun. You can find your own love and a place to stay, even in New York, New York, but not in L.A. Be a movie star or a runaway. Somebody will love you anyhow, but not in L.A....
The 6ths: Yet Another Girl
Mademoiselle Chelsea Hotel, prettiest in all the world. The divinest androgyny, silver wig and plastic pearls. Oh, the TV set's on fire. Shall we go? Yet another girl in a limousine, yet another girl on the New York scene, yet another night club hopping, diet pill popping sex machine, yet another maid to order destined for the silver screen, yet another girl. Causing accidents again as you try to cross the street. Live on shots and cigarettes. What the hell, it's only meat. It's an art form in itself, dying young...
Magnetic Fields: The Man Amplifier
The Magnetic Fields: Rats in the Garbage of the Western World
This is the darkest place I've ever been, but I like what little of you I've seen. You stepped out of the TV screen and into my most personal dreams. I don't want to go home with you, but the TV tells me what to do. I don't want to fall in love with you, but I've been conditioned to. We are the rats in the garbage of the western world... so let's dance! I wouldn't look twice if I were sober enough, but I can tell you're a diamond in the rough, the way you don't talk and the way you don't walk, just like a model. I know this is gonna be love. In a place like this with a boy like you, anything could happen if you want it to. I want to shoot you and hang you on my wall, but there's no film in my Polaroid...
Future Bible Heroes: O! What a Dream It Was
I know I'll never be beautiful, but you kissed me once in the sun. I know I'll never be loveable, but you made me think I was wrong. And you say it doesn't matter, but I want to scream it does. You made my our little dream shatter, but O! what a dream it was. I could've just run away with you, but you didn't want me along. I spent my one happy day with you, but when I looked up you were gone. And I always knew you were faking. For little you and me it was nice. And I wish I'd never awakened and lived in a dream, because o! what a dream it was.
Magnetic Fields: Heroes
The Magnetic Fields: Smoke and Mirrors (Mark Robinson Remix)
Someone else's world goes by as my train runs through this night. Someone else's rain comes down, but no rain can touch me now. Smoke and mirrors, special effects, a little fear, a little sex. That's all love is behind the tears. Smoke and mirrors. We were foolish, you and I, but there's no reason to cry. We put on a lovely show, but that's all. I had to go... It feels like the end of time, no one to sing "Auld Lang Syne." I don't know the station's names. I'll spend my life on this train... Fumee et miroirs, effets speciaux, un pue de peur, un peu de sexe. Sous les larmes l'amour n'est que sa de la fumee et des miroirs.
Magnetic Fields: I Die You Die
The Magnetic Fields: When I'm Not Looking, You're Not There
When I was young I saw a square, a hole, where something should be there. I knew all this was just a cage. This knowledge has not changed with age. I knew then, and I know it still. I'm being held against my will inside this stupid hologram, so I won't find out who I am. I really just pretend to care. When I'm not looking, you're not there. And you and your disgusting lies, like gravity and compromise and flesh and life and love and time. That's your opinion, it's not mine. I live among the robots now, but I'll find my way out somehow, so save your big reality, for when you're so-called touching me, you're only colors in thin air. When I'm not looking, you're not there.
Magnetic Fields: Le Tourbillion
Magnetic Fields: If I Were a Rich Man
Merritt "Soundtrack Man": Get Carter
Bible Heroes: Don't You Want Me?
Future Bible Heroes: Mr. Punch
Everybody gets it sometime, sorry. Virus, fire, gyroscope, Lear jet, lorry, choking on a chicken bone lurking in lunch: and you're dead, dead, dead! But not Mr. Punch. That Mr. Punch, he's a rum one, ain't he? Strapping at his yapping little wife is dainty. Hit her with a big stick, give her what for, and she's dead, dead, dead on the crimson floor. In the real world, all effects are causal. Amble backstage, see the sticks and swozzle. Talk to the Professor of the tricks of his trade. Ask him for his flask, it's only lemonade... But here comes a Crocodile, here comes a Clootie. Hear the Beadle wheedle and the ghost of Judy rattling her ribs in rodomontade. They're all dead, dead, dead in the old arcade.
Stephin Merritt: The Meaning of Lice
Lice, lice, divine device, miscellaneous. Ticks, ticks, and magic tricks, subcutaneous. Fleas, fleas, STDs. All of Egypt on her knees. Lice, lice in paradise: a necessary heresy. Odd God would want their sod to turn to pestilence. Strange angel, so unjust to peasants in their tents! Murderous bringer of each leech and skin stinger. Lice? Lice, in paradise? Religion ain't philosophy...
Kiki and Herb: Like a Snowman
Fa la la... There's only one way through the winter, as all the broken-hearted know. There's only one way back to springtime: dancing naked in the falling snow, like a snowman... So give me one rose for Christmas. (I'll give you everything, my love.) Give me one holy day. (You are my everything, you know?) Give me your love or something, knowing how soon it'll fade away... Like a snowman... dancing naked in the falling snow, melting even in the falling snow, like a snowman...
Stephin Merritt: The Wheels on the Car
The wheels on the car go round and round... all through the town. The power tailgate goes up and down... all through the town. The hill descent control goes down, nice and slow... the hill descent control goes nice and slow, all through the town. (All together now.) There's room in the car for everyone... all through the town.
Stephin Merritt: I'm in a Lonely Way
I'm in a lonely way. I'm desperate for love. I sit and cry all day, cry to the moon above. I need love... I'm in a lonely way. This world is not for me. I thought I'd have my day, but it was not to be. Woe is me... I'm in a lonely way. I wander all night long, out where the streetlights play. I'm gonna sing this song all night long...
Stephin Merritt: The Man of a Million Faces
In the darkness, she embraces the man of a million faces. Soon on back streets she paces, freezing in flimsy laces. Quite the psychiatric case is the man of a million faces, wielder of flails and maces, veteran of high speed chases. Not a single victim places the man of a million faces. No one knows what his race is. No single crime disgraces the man of a million faces.
The Nun's Litany (Stephin Version)
I want to be a playboy's bunny. I'd do whatever they asked me to. I'd meet people with lots of money, and they would love me like I loved you. I want to be a topless waitress. I want my mama to shed one tear. I'd throw away this old sedate dress, slip into something a tad more sheer. I want to be an artist's model, an odalisque, au naturel. I should be good at spin-the-bottle while I've still got something left to sell. I want to be a cobra dancer, with Little Willy between my thighs. I may not find a cure for cancer, but I'll meet plenty of single guys. I want to be a brothel worker. I've always been treated like one. If I could be a back-street lurker, I'd make more money and have more fun. I want to be a dominatrix, which isn't like me, but I can dream--learn S, and M, and all those gay tricks, and men will pay me to make them scream. I want to be a porno starlet. (For that I'll wait till Mama's dead.) I'll see my name in lights of scarlet and get to spend every day in bed. I want to be a tattooed lady, dedicated -- as I am -- to art. Characters bold, complex, and shady will write my memoirs across my heart.
Copyright (c) Sep 1999 - Jul 2010 by The Distant Plastic Treehouse