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1.
I caught a glimpse of a rainbow In the palm of a black man's hand It's crazy what the sun will do to you Through the thick and thin Through the glass and through your skin It' s crazy what the sun will do to you I swear I'm old enough To remember a day When the sign in the window Was bright yellow The inside of a closed book Is the darkest place on Earth A couple of matches could help us out Through the thick and thin By the cover – between the lines It's crazy what the light will do to you The way a shadow moved Over her shoulder Made if look like a sleeve Was slipping down And the patchy armour That my body is Growing on itself Only goes to show How weak I am I caught a glimpse of a rainbow In a song by Paul McCartney I caught a glimpse of a rainbow In a song by Paul McCartney
2.
You wake me up at dawn in the middle of the day You make me miserable just by being okay I blame it on your cat – I’m such a bitch myself I blame it on your kid – I hardly ever see mine You keep me up all night early in the evening The house of happiness sounds like a slaughterhouse I’m right next to hell and all eyes are on me And you’re crying out loud ever so silently
3.
The people who worked here long before me They bought a typewriter from a company Back in Chicago It took some correspondence getting used to But it did the trick like it had to And when the warranty expired World War I broke In the aftermath of the war They started printing books about bridge again The people here they bought them all As if nothing had ever happened The people who worked here long before me They stayed here for ever or they left in tears Never to return The man shedding his skin in the meeting room Felt ashamed afterwards But it was too late And when the alarm bell resounded All hell broke loose In the aftermath of the war They started printing books about bridge again The people here they bought them all As if nothing had ever happened
4.
Up there on a mountain There is a house that a young man bought When he was drafted He drew a lucky number Gave it up for money He was drafted And he was gone for seven years Was is worth it? And though the house is still standing Was is worth it? Nobody knows what the next war will look like Warships sinking where people used to worship Nobody knows what the next war will look like Or when the sea will finally take over the land On a sunny hillside There is a house that will be mine All in good time And when the next war breaks Hopefully I'll be too old To be drafted So we'll stay there until the end Watching the tide As the house will be looming Above the sea Nobody knows what the next war will look like Warships sinking where people used to worship Nobody knows what the next war will look like Or when the sea will finally take over the land
5.
This is something to remember me by Something to listen to if I died In case of accident you could play it yourself It's quite simple you see There's nothing much to it And it wouldn't matter then If I could never sing No it wouldn't matter then If I could never sing Or if my song was just corny And not as pretty as I thought it would turn out to be This is something to try and make you cry Some kind of lullaby and a lie In case of accident you could play it yourself It's quite simple you see There's nothing much to it And it wouldn't matter then If I could never sing No it wouldn't matter then If I could never sing Or if my song was just corny And not as pretty as I thought it would turn out to be
6.
Elle ouvre de grands yeux Sur les murs de la gare Elle est contente car elle n'a plus de boutons Depuis le temps elle est toute jaune Et elle n'est plus toute jeune Elle a sûrement des rides Je n'veux pas la connaître Je ne veux plus la voir Je veux rentrer Chez moi Elle ouvre de grands yeux Collée à son pôteau Elle est contente car on l'a prise en photo Personne n'a jamais vu ses pieds Personne ne la connaît Elle a sûrement changé Elle ouvre de grands yeux Dans la lumière des phares Et elle répondra à toutes les questions Depuis le temps elle est aphone Elle n'a plus rien à dire Et elle se sent toute vide
7.
Douglas Fear 01:56
The landscape I grew up in Has been defaced by Douglas firs My father, he planted so many of them That I inherited My best friend owns a sawmill That he inherited Planks for coffins are much in demand And he never calls me I was born in a forest (You can tell from my name) My family tree's a Douglas That's all there is I fear Family wood is still burning deep inside of me A never-ending fire that will never go out
8.
Between the words I can’t say And the chords I can’t play I’m keeping the world at bay And my mind just starts to fray And it just seems so wonderful to me The way you give your tiny hand to me Between the calls I can’t make And the calls I can’t take Parts of me just seem so fake And my heart just starts to break And it just seems so wonderful to me The way you give your tiny hand to me
9.
This season is trying to blow my head up, my head up The sky is blue alright but the wind is as cold as hell The northern is trying to blow me away, me away Sometimes it's hard to even keep my eyes open, my eyes open Nothing's wrong but I feel sick It was one of these days when my city just smells like shit Some said it was the beggars, some said it was some factory The northern wind is driving the smell up my nose to my brain Sometimes it's hard to even keep my mind open, my mind open Nothing's wrong but I feel sick Please don't let me suffer through two more months of winter

about

Sylvain the Librarian is a thirtysomething songwriter that never made it & a librarian by trade. He used to be the frontman in ex-magnolia, an indie rock band based in Lyons, France, but has been living in Avignon for several years, recording music on his own using garageband: an old acoustic guitar, so-called “software instruments," hints of Casio keyboard, melodica & ukulele, and nothing fancier than the built-in microphone of the family iMac. As a consequence, this is lo-fi at its lofiest.

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released April 24, 2008

Sylvain Chuzeville: acoustic guitar, keyboard, vocals, melodica, ukulele & the most rudimentary programming... ever! Artwork by Thibault Cabanas.

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Sylvain the Librarian France

Sylvain Chuzeville aka Sylvain the Librarian is a songwriter and a librarian by trade. He lives and works and records songs in Marseille, France, by the Mediterranean sea. He used to be the frontman in ex-magnolia, an indie rock band based in Lyons, France, but that band split in 2008. ... more

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