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Light Pollution Lyrics - Artist : Bright Eyes
John A Hobson was a good man
He used to loan me books and mic stands He even got me a subscription to the Socialist Review Listening to records in his basement Old folk songs about the government "it's love of money, not the market," he said, "these fuckers push on you. And freedom yells, it dont cry. Whatever sells will decide. But there is no hell when you die. So dont look so worried." He got a night life Lost his day job Pushing paper, swinging pendulums Anything to serve a function or to occupy some time You have got to earn this living somehow You are good as dead without a bank accound But it is funny how alive he felt, down in that unemployment line With all the trash at his feet The pools of piss in the street All of that filthy empathy for the way we're feeling The billboards shade The flags they wave The anthem was playing loud The baseball game was letting out Then all at once he saw the dust And heard every tiny sound Got in his truck and turned around Drove out through the crowd And the cops drove out past that center mall Out past that sickening sprawl Out past that fenced in gold And maybe he lost control fucking with the radio But I bet the stars seemed so close at the end |
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