Bat You'll Fly
Animal Collective
Spirit They're Gone, Spirit They've Vanished (2000)

What road's the Indian way? I bet you never have drove.
(...I'll follow...a swallow...)>

...Am late instead,
when you wake up late.
I've got a Velcro shoes,
it's a holiday.
And run into the village, I'll follow.
'Cause happiness ain't being a swallow.

Beware, well, she's here, smile...
You'll find reasons,
to pout with all the seasons.
Power hope infuses the blood of the child...die.>

Don't you worry, I'm your brother,
pinch right fairy, you'll recover.
He said, he said, he said, he said...
Ooma ma ma, Ma ma mama ma, Ma ma mama, Bahhh, M'm la la.

Usually we have socks and my compass to outdoor.
(...like a mate-uh...'cause it's winter...)>

On a summer day,
there's a billion way.
And the leaves are golden
and the trees are colder.
A crouch under a bush like a mate-uh,
'cause happiness ain't lovin' it's waiter.

Your plan on your hands, was tired to shake
Streets are powered, with people lovin',
words are destined to break and the bats will fly...>

If there's trouble, I'm your lover.
You talk subtle, but that's just a cover.
He said, he said, he said, he said...
Ooma ma ma, Ma ma mama ma, Ma ma mama, Bahhh, M'm la la.

Sage... We's a give it to the beat, 'sup now?
Madeline, I was welling from the Westering wind.
A moment's range, your mother's second girl is gone.>

I couldn't trust you (but couldn't I support you well?)
I couldn't touch out (better let the building high)
I couldn't touch you (I'll be livin' in the building now)
I couldn't teach you (to be better than a building)

C'mon and we'll ride in my buggy.
Take me 'cross the Indian waves and we'll swim with the great whites.
(….the wild….a child...)>

Now house feels bad
and your mother, lonely.
And your village cries,
'cause the kid is older.
But you can still think back to the wild,
'cause happiness was being a child.

When the time she's here is nigh.
You'll find razors, doubt always saves 'em,
I am the reason that the child dies...>

Every morning I'm your brother,
memory's impression painter of-
He said, he said, he said, he said...
Ooma ma ma, Ma ma mama ma, Ma ma mama, Bahhh, M'm la la.

Space. So give it to the preacher now.
Madeline, is hanging from the west-wing field.
And a moment rang and the moment said, “Your girl is gone.">

I could have told you (to be little in the pouring down)
I couldn't touch out (to be little in the living red sun)
I couldn't touch you (to be livin' in the pounding drum)
I couldn't teach you (to be livin', off far away...)

Don't you pray guitar, little play-date
right as stamping gin to the powerless.
I won't wait for you in a mural if
you won't wait for me in Albania....

I feel so elusive in Houston,
you feel so exclusive in Houston x 10

(Occasionally substitute “reclusive” for “exclusive”)