Kamera (The Unified Theory of Everything Version) - Wilco

There's a magazine called Sunset And a tape machine that won't let Me ever forget this impossible longing for you Let's take a map across your pillow And breathe the sky in through your window I'll stay in the riddle and watch your books cave in Just maybe you're my inspiration Just lead me to some new sensation We'll make a little guide we can call our own 'Cause there's a magazine called Sunset And a tape machine that won't ever let Me forget this impossible longing I have for you Or I'm a future far outstanding In the present race I phantom There's a magazine And a tape machine Oh, that's everything Oh, yeah Or I'm a future far outstanding In the present race I phantom There's a magazine And a tape machine Oh, that's everything There's a magazine And a tape machine Oh, that's everything Oh, yeah It won't ever, ever, ever let me forget This impossible longing I have for you

Call the cops and tell them what I want My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense A bomb for a body, a hammer for a head My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense All your stories are about your death The lemmings on the way to the cliff, the brain-dead boys Calling you a hooligan, a Border Reiver git The boxer with a box of old shit, the big white noise It's all about the money now You put the hard drive in the microwave You antelope, you are a sack of wine Huh, huh Call the cops and tell them what I want My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense Just blame it on the empire, blame it on the empire Blame it on the empire, blame it on the empire, I don't know It's all about the Benjamins It's all about the wilderness for me Tomorrow is a wonderful idea Huh, huh It's the end of the contender The end of the contender It's the end of the contender The end of the contender Feeding time, animatronic eyes Are a-watching with delight (the end of the contender) A churning mind, oh, give me that rabid smile Those Creddahornis eyes Call the cops and tell them what I want My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense A bomb for a body, a hammer for a head My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense (It all made sense) The end of the contender The end of the contender The end of the contender The end of the contender

The cash machine Is blue and green For a hundred in 20's And a small service fee I could spend three dollars And 63 cents On diet Coca-Cola And unlit cigarettes I wonder why We listen to poets When nobody gives a fuck How hot and sorrowful This machine begs for luck All my lies are always wishes I know I would die If I could come back new I want a good life With a nose for things A fresh wind and bright sky To enjoy my suffering A hole without a key If I break my tongue Speaking of tomorrow How will it ever come All my lies are always my wishes I know I would die If I could come back new I'm down on my hands and knees Every time the doorbell rings I shake like a toothache When I hear myself sing All my lies are only wishes I know I would die If I could come back new I would like to salute The ashes of American flags And all the falling leaves Filling up shopping bags