From Daniel Romano's eighth studio album

MODERN PRESSURE


The name of every landlord is displayed out on the awnings

And the farmer in the amber fields were harmonized in yawning

As the memory of the ghost hung at the exit

And the city doctor called in feeling head sick


All the freedom-founding fathers

Altogether speak too soon

The sounds that mutter underneath

The glowing, Greek blue moon

As tide rolls up beyond the walking trail

So don't have the native every mocking gale

React to it at your leisure, modern pressure


All the street were filled with carbon

And a pack of trembling dogs

The weather comes in from the east spills a Kremlin fog

As they fill the holes of every open tomb

In the factories of dirty broken looms


The sky was open wide

And it was pouring civil war

The body that you carry was comprised of simple lore

Where the iceman at the cinema floats anagrams

No no one could go past your little diaphrams

The stillness of the changing weather, modern pressure


That oasis sometimes lingers like a patch of blackened ice

The sellers of the row tap and locked and packed in twice

Only names are what remain to label you

Where I heard the praise of sex and table food

Up beyond the sunrise waits another pounding storm

Somewhere from the rubble sounds of nothing sounding born


At the zero grounds of future battle sites

While the gods still fill our heads with satellites

Take the seeds my holy thresher, modern pressure