Heretics :: Andrew Bird

Sorry this post is a little late, my house doesn't have internet so I need to go to the coffee shop down the road to use the international network of computers.
I'm all moved in to my LVC house, and tomorrow is my first day of work. The past few days have mainly consisted of me going out in the morning, getting lost or semi-lost and finding my way home then unpacking or cleaning. In addition, I've been having conversations and getting to know my housemates further. Today when I was cooking dinner this tune came on the radio and I was a little disappointed in myself for not hearing it sooner.

So enjoy the marvelous Andrew Bird in the song Heretics from the 2007 album Armchair Apocrypha. As a slight side note, I found the song played on the radio at quite an appropriate time, we were just discussing religious beliefs and how to negotiate the fact that we've got a mixture of christian, spiritual and non-spiritual individuals in our house. Something to listen for that I really enjoy is the slight Chinese folk aesthetic of the violin/strings in the intro and chorus.



Bored holes through our tongues, so sing a song about it
Held our breath for too long till we're half sick about it
Tell us what we did wrong and you can blame us for it
Turn a clamp on our thumbs, we'll sew a doll about it
And tell us all about it
We'll sew a doll about it

How about some credit now
Where credit is due
For the damage that we've done
We have brought upon ourselves and others
With a slow and vicious gun
And although pratfalls can be fun
Encores can be fatal

And then I hear you say
Thank God it's fatal
Thank God it's fatal
Not shy
Not shy of fatal
Not shy of fatal
Thank God
Thank God it's fatal
Thank God it's fatal
Not shy
Not shy of fatal
Not shy of fatal

Wait just a second now
It's not all that bad
Are we not having fun
You make your mountains of handkerchiefs
Where the mascara always runs
So be careful when you're done
You're bound to get post-natal
What did I just hear you say?

Thank God it's fatal
No, we don't want to hear the sound of a door
No, we don't want to hear the sound of a door
And we don't want to read the signs that you bore
You know the kind of sign you hang on a door
Saying, "We'll be back. What a crack."
Now don't you think we might have heard that before?
Now don't you think we might have heard that before?

Bored holes through our tongues, so sing a song about it
Held our breath for too long till we're half sick about it
Tell us what we did wrong and you can blame us for it
Turn a clamp on our thumbs, we'll sew a doll about it