Kimya Dawson at the Acadia Café

Imagine the world outside, and the scene inside: a humid all-ages coffeehouse packed with dripping Moldy Peaches fans. Imagine a spare band, with xylophone and drums and guitar, and a singer/guitarist whisper-singing:


Everything is crumbling around me/Why does everything cost so much money?/Could somebody please help out my family?/My mom needs hearing aids, new shoulders, and new legs/My dad needs a break, he works all day every day/My brother needs a place and a job where he can make/Enough money to take care of his baby

Here's a simple dissertation on a complex situation/Money and intimidation and mass graves make strong/Foundations/For the giant corporations that own all the TV stations/Telling us to take vacations to their big theme park/Plantations/Rather than to hearts of nations

Where we might meet people on the street who say/"I don't want my MTV 'cause it brought viva to its knees"/And Mom and Pop are begging, "Please, globalization's/Killing me"/While we think that they think they need all of the things/We think we need/Like Martha Stewart shams and sheets and sugar free/Powdered ice tea/Vanilla Coke, Lemon Pepsi, Friends episodes on DVD


Now imagine everyone at this point bursting into a spontaneous cheer, and try not to feel the sweaty shiver that went down everybody's spine.

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