"Inbetween The Liners" lyrics

MGMT, 4 letters, 5 minds, 6th sense. Second sight? Rock-and-roll is 50-years old, but we are still speaking in tongues. What would Aristotle make of wop bop a loo bop? A zen mantra for our bam boo times? 'Expect the unexpected' I heard - as any fools knows, usually impossible. 9 months, the pregnant portion of a year; spent in their company; hasn't led me to deceive I know MGMT any better than anyone else. No tomes from me or type-tapping critics will reveal that. A 5 part puzzle beyond Rubik proportions for you to twist and shout to. Never mix stripes and spots we're told. Ha. It's actually a beautiful clash. Hell, here comes the Paisley and polka-dot too. What are you gonna do about it? Love it, of course! Congratulations! Their second long player is something precious. A gift. To lovers. To others. For sisters. For brothers. To live to. To love to. To look at. To listen through. Nine songs. Some short, some long. A shy-eyed journey through the dichotomy of their lives through their souls. Sunday bacon for the Monday generation

IT'S WORKING: Love? Or confusion? Reality? Contusion? Subterranea or sub-fusion. The quest begins

SONG FOR DAN TREACY: A man. A mystery? A saint? A sod? Were we all made for this life? Some give, some receive. But Dan Treacy smiles

FLASH DELIRIUM: The natives go all dance-hall stomp as something strange in the water forces a flash time Strobo-cop emanation of the will. Delusion extrusion

SIBERIAN BREAKS: A pop-surf opera, after the storm the loss of ego. Breakers on the beach. Hanging ten with the hodads. Distraction. Then sandy smiles as the sun squints its way. A new day. Cleansed. Ready. Surf's up! Piss or pass the pot

SOMEONE'S MISSING: But who? And why? Just a thought? A feeling? Or a moment of doubt lying in wait? To refilling the gateway. The door. Consciousness. A lines

I FOUND A WHISTLE: Hope. Reassurance. The bogey-man triumph of the plastic surf totem. The motion of notions. Spells and potions

BRIAN ENO: A smile sent out. A wink and chuckle. The mystery of time. The air-traffic controller of sound and space and subterfuge

LADY DADA'S NIGHTMARE: The mind falters. Questioning. Looking for answers. Lock-loop images stray into fluorescing cotton candy crimes. Impervious. Then, the release. A primal scream for the how generation. More dada than gaga. More drinking than thinking. Less arty than party. Time takes a rain-check

CONGRATULATIONS: The half-arsed hugs of routine celebrations. Realisations. Random aging. A world in tatters? Glitter that matters? The hollow victory. And then sleep