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One hundred days hence
We’ll go out past the picket fence
And look back on today’s events
And process how we feel

Once Earth is scrubbed clean
Will we go back to being mean?
And once we’re out of quarantine
Will we isolate for real?

When you’re holed up in a shoebox
The days are all a blur
And the lonely, get lonelier and
The cozy get cozier and
The family get familier than they were

Don’t touch your own eyes
A recipe to dehumanize
The gently hoarded bath supplies
Are choking up our homes

But one lovely effect
Of being sorely circumspect
A golden hour to reconnect
With kids, and pets, and yes, with phones

When you’re holed up in a shoebox
The days are all a blur
And the lonely, get lonelier and
The cozy get cozier and
The family get familier than they were

When you’re holed up in a shoebox
The days are all a blur
And the lonely, get lonelier and
The cozy get cozier and
The family get familier than they were

Copyright 2020 Zach London

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Through the door, there’s secret staircase
We could fly through restricted airspace

Now to thank
Now to thank my cadre of enablers who built a place
So worth quitting for
Now to fake
Now to fake the flu and skip a day of school to watch some Lost in Space
That’s called living
Your best life
Your best life

Let’s pretend that I’m David Gilmour
Speak truth on a faded billboard

Now to thank
Now to thank my cadre of enablers who built a place
So worth quitting for
Now to fake
Now to fake the flu and take a day off work to binge Amazing Race
That’s called living
Your best life
Your best

Now to thank
Now to thank my cadre of enablers who built a place
So befitting
Now to fake
Now to fake the flu and skip a day of school to watch some Lost in Space
That’s called living
Your best life
Your best life

Lauren London - additional vocals
Scarlett London - additional vocals

Copyright 2020 Zach London

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Big guns don’t cry
Big guns don’t cry

I paint on my charlatan face
Up in your personal space
Tend to pretend to be what I condemn
So nourish or perish the thought
Either it’s something I’m not
Or it’s all that I am

Time erodes
Oceans recede and leave just mud
Mud between my toes
I’ve honed circular grieving
Coming home, but not the way I chose
Mud between my toes

Big guns don’t cry

The harder I stare I at the screen
The more I feel bitter and mean
The more I feel bitter, the harder I stare
The blood of excess in my veins
Pumping out Ill-gotten gains
Filthy lucre to spare

Time erodes
Oceans recede and leave just mud
Mud between my toes
I’ve honed circular grieving
Coming home, but not the way I chose
Mud between my toes
Erodes
Oceans recede and leave just mud
Mud between my toes
Mud between my toes
Mud between my toes
Mud between my toes

Lauren London - vocals

Copyright 2020 Zach London

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I’m feeling something coming on. It might be a special feeling. I think I’ve got… I know I’ve got something to say!

I can take indelicate but not impolite
Dumpster diving etiquette precludes wearing white 
Grecophiles know “nostalgia” means the pain of the night
You’ve ruined Misfit New Year’s Eve

Little Mrs. Griddlecake is one of her names
Mama mixed the batter with Bartles & Jaymes
I believe in heaven, but why all the flames?
You’ve ruined Misfit New Year’s Eve

This may sting a little but try not to move
Tips are common courtesy, but if you approve
Purring is just poetry with nothing to prove
You’ve ruined Misfit New Year’s Eve

My hang-ups have hang-ups and
Those hang-ups have hang-ups
So you can bet
That’s what you’ll get
  Speak your sordid secret for me
Your distorted sorry secret story
I won’t tell, I’ll be your No-Tell laureate

Baa baa black sheep mutton, have you any views?
Smack that genius button, it’s worth every bruise
Cursing is just poetry with nothing to lose
You’ve ruined Misfit New Year’s Eve.


Copyright 2020 Zach London

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