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letra de the making of a soul - the residents

[intro: “chorus”]
edweena went to calumet and left from there to college;
she took along a porcupine whose name was known as knowledge;
now their relationship was fraught with pangs of loving hunger
the porcupine could question all, but all she knew was slumber

[verse 1: “porcupine”]
a huge easy cozy wants our kiss to triumph
but unbelievable admits —
some questions, some questions
receive a guarantee to shake you up
to shake you up, to shake you up
yes, i’ve got some questions that are guaranteed
to shake you up
how much marriage urges a windmill to pinch infinity?
is a magic hid-a-bed the final home of spanish fire?
is firm corn merrier under gifts of less important love?
we wonder
but fantasy moves ahead;
for the iceman just took a turn for the better
and a small object flies from his mouth;
a daring, jewel scales down the belted ear system
and you have the modular optimistic silver original
welcome to the offshoots of jupiter

[bridge: “chorus”]
edweena never knowing why her friend would ramble so
she shut him out and left a pout to bleed upon the snow!

[verse 2: “porcupine”]
mourning glories open only after noon begins;
the open and the broken have begun to blend again
they freeze a shape about the nape of nectar and of knee;
they leave a sleeve, they weave a grieve for mourning’s never free
mourning glories open only after noon begins;
the open and the broken have begun to blend again
they freeze a shape about the nape of nectar and of knee;
they leave a sleeve, they weave a grieve for mourning’s never free
mourning’s never free, mourning’s never free, uuugh
mourning’s never free, mourning’s never free

[refrain: “uncle remus”]
the aching and the breaking are the making of a soul
the aching and the breaking are the making of a soul
the aching and the breaking are the making of a soul
the empties that have been returned relieve us of a goal

[hidden monologue]
once upon a time in a faraway land south of the steaming jungles, north of the mighty rivers, and east and west of the wastelands there lived a human person. he named himself by making up a sound he liked. his name was only a grunt, but he liked it, and liking something was a perfect awareness that he’d had that was not directly -ssociated with his survival. in fact, [?] almost any facet of his life. he preferred to make up things he liked, but you’d hardly expect less from a human person. the man met a human person and they liked each other, and that’s what they liked about liking each other. you have got to get liked; [?] remember what they liked, or why they liked, and wonder if they even really liked each other; and this was the second awareness not directly -ssociated with their survival. the choice seemed to be to stop wondering how you’re (i am no longer [?]…) liking what the other person didn’t like. the third awareness was [?]…

[outro: “chorus”]
now who is gone and who is right, and who is left to see
for who is left is just a few, can two be more than three?

- the residents

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