A cover of a song by the band They Might Be Giants. We didn't invent the idea of accordion as a rock instrument, but we are perpetuating it.
(Ian on vocals, guitar, and drums. Arianna on Accordion, bass and synth).
Make a hole with a gun perpendicular
To the name of this town in a desk-top globe
Exit wound in a foreign nation
Showing the home of the one this was written for
My apartment looks upside down from there
Water spirals the wrong way out the sink
And her voice is a backwards record
It's like a whirlpool and it never ends
Ana Ng and I are getting old
And we still haven't walked in the glow of each others majestic presence
Listen Ana hear my words
They're the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
All alone at the sixty-four World's Fair
Eighty dolls yelling small girl after all
Who was at the Dupont Pavilion?
Why was the bench still warm? Who had been there?
Or the time when the storm tangled up the wire
To the horn on the pole at the bus depot
And in the back of the edge of hearing
These are the words the voice was repeating
When I was driving once I saw this painted on a bridge,
I don't want the world, I just want your half
They don't need me here, and I know you're there
Where the world goes by like the humid air
And it sticks like a broken record
Everything sticks like a broken record
Everything sticks until it goes away
And the truth is, we don't know anything