20 good song writers

Here are 20 good pop song writers, not necessarily in order

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Elvis Costello – All the Rage (right click highlighted link and ‘Open link in new tab’ to hear the song)

1-2-3, 2-2-3
The twitching impulses to speak your mind
I’ll lend you my microscope and maybe you will find it
Is it in that ugly place that’s just behind your face
Where you keep my picture still despite the fact
That you had me replaced

[Chorus:]
Say “Goodbye”
Baby can’t you act your age?
You know why
I’m going to give it to you straight
Although I’ll never be
Unhappy as you want me to be
Still it’s all the rage

I’ll probably play along
Left to my own devices
Spare me the drone of your advice
The sins of garter and gin
Confession may delay
You know the measuring pole
The merry boots of clay
I’ve heard it all before
You’ll say it anyway

[Chorus]

Alone with your tweezers and your handkerchief
You murder time and truth, love, laughter and belief
So don’t try to touch my heart, it’s darker than you think
And don’t try to read my mind because it’s full of disappearing ink

[Chorus]

Although I’ll never be
Unhappy as you want me to be
Still it’s all the rage

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

XTC (Andy Partridge) – Senses Working Overtime

Hey hey,the clouds are whey,
There’s straw for the donkeys
And the innocents can all sleep safely
All sleep safely.

My my, sun is pie
There’s fodder for the cannons
And the guilty ones can all sleep safely
All sleep safely.

And all the world is football shaped,
It’s just for me to kick in space
And I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste
And I’ve got one, two, three, four, five senses working overtime
Trying to take this all in,
I’ve got one, two, three, four, five senses working overtime
Trying to taste the difference ‘tween the lemons and limes
The pain and the pleasure and
The church bells softly chime…

Hey hey, night fights day,
There’s food for the thinkers
And the innocents can all live slowly
All live slowly
My, my the sky will cry
Jewels for the thirsty and the guilty ones can
All die slowly all die slowly.
And all the world is biscuit shaped,
It’s just for me to feed my face
And I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste
And I’ve got one, two, three, four, five sense working overtime
Trying to take this all in,
I’ve got one, two, three, four, five senses working overtime
Trying to taste the difference ‘tween the lemons and limes
The pain and the pleasure and the church bells softly chime…

And birds might fall from black skies
And bullies might give you black eyes
And buses might skid on black ice
But to me it’s very very beautiful (England’s glory!)
Beautiful (a striking beauty!)
And all the world is football-shaped,
It’s just for me to kick in space
And I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste
And I’ve got one, two, three, four, five senses working overtime
Trying to take this all in
I’ve got one, two, three, four, five senses working overtime
Try to tell the difference ‘tween the goods and crimes,
Dirt or treasure and there’s
One, two, three, four,five senses working overtime
Trying to take this all in,
I’ve got one, two, three, four, five senses working overtime
Trying to taste the difference ‘tween the lemons and limes
The pain and the pleasure and the church bells softly chime.

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

They Might Be Giants (Linnell/Flansburgh) – Till My Head Falls Off

There were 87 Advil in the bottle now there’s 30 left
I ate 47 so what happened to the other 10?
Why do you suspiciously change the subject and break my concentration
As I dump the bottle out and I count the Advil up again?

Don’t interrupt me as I struggle to complete this thought
Have some respect for someone more forgetful than yourself
And I’m not done
And I won’t be till my head falls off

Hitting every pocket on my shirt, pants and overcoat
And I’m hitting them again but I don’t know where I put my notes
Clearing my throat, and gripping the lectern I smile and face my audience
Clearing his throat and smiling with his hands on the bathroom sink

And when I lean my head against the frosted shower stall
I see stuff through the glass that I don’t recognize at all
And I’m not done
And I won’t be till my head falls off
Though it may not be a long way off

I’m not done talking yet
I’m not done talking yet

And when I lean my head against the frosted shower stall
I see a broken figure silhouetted on the wall

And I’m not done
And I won’t be till my head falls off
Though it may not be a long way off
I won’t be done until my head falls off

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Squeeze (Difford/Tillbrook) – Piccadilly

She’s not a picture above somebody’s fire
She sits in a towel with a purple hair dryer,
She waits to get even with me.
She hooks up her cupcakes and puts on her jumper
Explains that she’ll be late to a worrying mother,
She meets me in Piccadilly.
A begging folk singer stands tall by the entrance
His song relays worlds of most good intentions,
A five p, a ten p, in his hat for collection.

She talks about office she talks about dresses
She’s seen one she fancies her smile is impressing,
So maybe I’ll treat her someday.
We queue among strangers and strange conversation
Love’s on the lips of all forms of engagements,
All queuing to see tonight’s play.

A man behind me talks to his young lady
He’s happy that she is expecting his baby,
His wife won’t be pleased but she’s not been round lately.

The play was so dreadful we left in a hurry
Escaped in the rain for an Indian curry,
At the candle lit Taj Mahal.
My lips to a napkin I called for a taxi
The invite of eyes made it tense but relaxed me,
My mind took a devious stroll.

The cab took us home through a night I’d not noticed
The neon club lights of adult films and Trini Lopez,
My arm around her but my acting was hopeless.

We crept like two thieves from the kettle to the fire
We kissed to the sound of the silence that we’d hired,
Now captured, your love in my arms.
A door opened slightly a voice spoke in worry
Mum went to bed without wind of the curry,
Our secret love made it’s advance.

Like Adam and Eve we took bite on the apple
Loose change in my pocket it started to rattle,
Heart like a gun was just half of the battle.

Sparks (Ron Mael) – This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us

Zoo time is she and you time
The mammals are your favourite type, and you want her tonight
Heartbeat, increasing heartbeat
You hear the thunder of stampeding rhinos, elephants and tacky tigers
This town ain’t big enough for both of us
And it ain’t me who’s gonna leave

Flying domestic flying
And when the stewardess is near do not show any fear
Heartbeat increasing heartbeat
You are a khaki-coloured bombadier it’s Hiroshima that you’re nearing
This town ain’t big enough for both of us
And it ain’t me who’s gonna leave

Daily, except for Sunday
You dawdle in to the cafe where you meet her each day
Heartbeat, increasing heartbeat
As twenty cannibals have hold of you, they need their protein just like you do
This town ain’t big enough for both of us
And it ain’t me who’s gonna leave

Shower, another shower
You’ve got to look your best for her and be clean everywhere
Heartbeat, increasing heartbeat
The rain is pouring on the foreign town, the bullets cannot cut you down
This town ain’t big enough for both of us
And it ain’t me who’s gonna leave

Census, the latest census
There’ll be more girls who live in town though not enough to go round
Heartbeat, increasing heartbeat
You know that:
This town isn’t big enough,
not big enough for both of us
This town isn’t big enough,
not big enough for both of us
And I ain’t gonna leave

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Billy Bragg – The Saturday Boy

I’ll never forget the first day I met her
That september morning was clear and fresh
The way she spoke and laughed at my jokes
And the way she rubbed herself
Against the edge of my desk
She became a magic mystery to me
And we’d sit together in double
History twice a week
And some days we’d walk the same way home
And it’s surprising how quick
A little rain can clear the streets
We dreamed of her and compared our dreams
But that was all that I ever tasted
She lied to me with her body you see
I lied to myself ’bout the chances I’d wasted

The times we were close
Were far and few between
In the darkness at the dances in the school canteen
Did she close her eyes like I did
As we held each other tight
And la la la la la la la la means I love you

She danced with me and I still hold that memory
Soft and sweet
And I stare up at her window
As I walk down her street
But I never made the first team,
I just made the first team laugh
And she never came to the phone
She was always in the bath
I had to look in the dictionary
To find out the meaning of unrequited
While she was giving herself for free
At a party to which I was never invited

I never understood my failings then
And I hide my humble hopes now
Thinking back she made us want her
A girl not old enough to shave her legs

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

The Divine Comedy (Neil Hannon) – Tonight We Fly

Tonight we fly
Over the houses
The streets and the trees
Over the dogs down below
They’ll bark at our shadows
As we float by on the breeze

Tonight we fly
Over the chimney tops
Skylights and slates
Looking into all your lives
And wondering why
Happiness is so hard to find

Over the doctor, over the soldier
Over the farmer, over the poacher
Over the preacher, over the gambler
Over the teacher, over the rambler
Over the lawyer, over the dancer
Over the voyeur, over the builder and the destroyer,
Over the hills and far away

Tonight we fly
Over the mountains
The beach and the sea
Over the friends that we’ve known
And those that we now know
And those who we’ve yet to meet

And when we die
Oh, will we be
That disappointed
Or sad
If heaven doesn’t exist
What will we have missed
This life is the best we’ve ever had

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Everything But The Girl (Tracey Thorn) – Oxford Street

When I was ten I thought my brother was God
He’d lie in bed and turn out the light with a fishing rod.
I learned the names of all his football team,
And I still remembered them when I was nineteen.

Strange the things that I remember still
Shouts from the playground when I was home and ill.
My sister taught me all that she learned there;
When we grow up, we said, we’d share a flat somewhere.

When I was seventeen, London meant Oxford Street.
Where I grow up there were no factories.
There was a school and shops and some fields and trees,
And rows of houses one by one appeared.
I was born in one and lived there for eighteen years.

Then when I was nineteen.
I thought the Humber would be

The gateway from my little world into the real world.
But there is no real world
We live side by side, and sometimes collide.

When I was seventeen, London meant Oxford Street.
It was a little world;
I grew up in a little world.

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Gilbert O’Sullivan (Ray O’Sullivan) – We Will

It’s over now, you’ve had your fun,
Get up them stairs, go on quickly, don’t run
Take off your shoes
The both of yous
And leave them down outside the door
Turn the landing light off, no wait, leave it on
It might make the night that much easier to be gone
And in the morning who’ll be wide awake and eating snowflakes

Oh, as opposed to those flakes
We will (we will), we will (we will)!

That afternoon we spent the day
With Uncle Frank, remember,
And his wife, Auntie May?
Well do you know?
Since then I’ve received up to four letters
All of which repeat the same
They say thrilled to bits
Can’t believe you came
We’ve relived it, both,
Over time and time again
And if there’s ever a chance or even half
You might be our way,
Well, would you promise to stay?
We will (we will), we will (we will)!

It’s not easy pretending that you cannot hear
Once you’ve suffered the affliction within
It’s no use in an ending to proclaim from the start
That the moral of the story’s to begin

On Sunday next, if the weather holds
We’ll have that game, but I bagsie being in goal
Not because I’m good, or because I think I should
It’s just that, well, at my age I think standing still
Would really suit me best
Do we all agree?
Hands up those who do
Hands up those who don’t
I see, well in that case will we please be kind enough
If not on Sunday, to go to mass on Monday
We will (we will), we will (we will yeah yeah yeah mm mm), we will!

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Joe Jackson – Beat Crazy

What do you want – blood?

Kids today – they’re all the same
All call themselves – some crazy name

Monks and Rockers and Beatle freaks
Punks and Skunks and Kooks and Geeks
Look in a mirror but you can’t see your face
Look in a mirror but you can’t see your face

All those drugs – they can’t be sane
All that noise – affects their brains

Sniffin’ pot – smoking glue
Whatever terrible things they do
Smokin’ LSD and such
It must be the reason why they can’t talk much

And it’s such a crime
How they waste their time
They can’t get nowhere
They’ve all gone Beat Crazy

Beat Crazy!

They say the world – is in a mess
But they can talk – the way they dress

See the knee through the hole in their jeans
A hole in their pocket and it looks so mean
Hole in the T Shirt – what’s that you said?
You’re about as clever as a hole in the head

Can’t get no jobs – can’t get careers
With safety pins – stuck through their ears

Cut your hair – dye it green
See it shine – with Brylcreem
A little dab’ll do ya – a little dab a day
Or rub a dub it in a dreadlocks way

And it’s such a crime
How they waste their time
They can’t get nowhere
They’ve all gone Beat Crazy

Beat Crazy!

And if the Russians ever come
They’ll all be beating bongo drums

Damn – beatniks rule!
Dropped out of kindergarten
Dropped out of school
Really hot on my bongo drums
Really hot on my bongo drums

So who’ll defend – in World War III
Where could we turn – where would they be

Tell her!

Down the cellar – filled with smoke
Laughing at the latest joke
Doing the latest dance to do
The Fug and the Sheeny and the Suzi Q

And it’s such a crime
How they waste their time
They can’t get nowhere
They’ve all gone Beat Crazy

Look in a mirror but you can’t see your face

Beat Crazy!

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

The Pretenders (Chrissie Hynde) – Birds of Paradise

I wrote a letter to you my friend
So many letters that I never send
I think about you at the day’s end
The time that we had
I laughed in my bed
The stupid things you said
We were two birds of paradise

When I was a little girl
With clay horses and lambs on the shelf
I caught frogs in ditches, listened for elves
My friends and I had a world unto ourselves
No grown-ups could find us when we
Made our plans so secretly
To run away and fly to be
With the two birds of paradise

Now once upon a time my mind still there wanders
Back in your room the things I remember
One time when we took off our clothes
But you were cryin’, cryin’
You said nothing lasts forever
We were happy together
I thought about you in Stockholm and Rome
Me in my hotel room
You in your home
This is the life they say that
Dreams are made of
Don’t forget
Please do forgive me
I still have something you did give me
Come into my dream with me and dream

Please don’t forget
Do forgive me
I still have something you did give me
Come into my dream with me and dream
Oh, dream of paradise

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

The Four Tops (Holland/Dozier/Holland) – Do what you gotta do

Girl I can understand
How it might be kind of hard
to love a guy like me
I don’t blame you much for wanting to be free
I just wanted you to know
I’ve loved you better that your own kin did
From the very start
it’s my own fault for what happens to my heart, girl
You see I’ve always known you’d go

So you just do what you gotta do
My wild sweet love
Though it may mean I’ll never kiss those sweet lips again
Pay that no mind
Just chase that dappled dream of yours
Come on back, come on back see me when you can
(make it in a hurry)

Now I know they make you feel, make you feel kinda sad
Say you don’t treat me like you should
They got ways to make you feel no good
But they got no way to know
I’ve had my eyes wide open from the very start
And girl you’ve never lied to me
And the part they will never, never see
Is the part you’ve shown me

So you just do what you gotta do
My wild sweet love
Though it may mean I’ll never kiss those sweet lips again
Pay that no mind
Chase that dappled dream of yours
and come on back, come on back and see me when you can

Do what you, do what you gotta do
My wild sweet love
Though it may mean I’ll never kiss those lips again
Oh pay that no mind
Chase that dappled dream of yours
Come on back, come on back see me when you can

Now I know they make you feel sad, make you feel so bad
Say you don’t treat me like you should
They got ways, to make you feel no good
I guess they got no way to know
I’ve had my eyes wide open from the start
Girl you’ve never lied to me
But the part they will never see
Is the part that you’ve shown me
Oh is the part that you’ve shown me

Girl I can understand how it might be kind of hard
to love a guy like me
I don’t blame you much for wanting to be free
I just wanted you to know
I’ve loved you better than your own kin did
From the very very start
Though it’s my own fault
Whatever happens to my heart
You see I’ve always known you’d go

So you just do, oh do
Do what you gotta do

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Simon and Garfunkel (Paul Simon) – Kathy’s Song

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

My mind’s distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you’re asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And as a song I was writing is left undone
I don’t know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can’t believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

The (English) Beat – I Confess

Just out of spite,
I confess I’ve ruined three lives
Now don’t sleep so tight
Because I didn’t care till I found out that one of them was mine.

Night after night, time after time.
Done too much of both types of w(h)ining.
Still wasn’t right fight after fight
‘Til, Get out of my life get away from me get away from that gun

No it’s not a joke it’s cards on the table time
Yes I could have phoned
I could have wrote
But how to break the news without breaking your heart

Being dead don’t hurt,
No only dying
Cards on the table time,
Sometimes it’s right to say goodnight.

Always searching for paradise,
I’ll admit that I’m good as blind, darling
I confess yes I’ve ruined three lives
And did not care till I found out that one of them was mine.

I confess
Our love seems like a punishment
And I confess,
If it’s all the same to you I’ll stay indifferent

I confess I confess I confess
I confess I confess I confess.

No-one wins and there’s no denying,
Don’t pretend like you don’t know why,
Just a little word here a little push there, darling
I confess look I confess that I don’t really care

I confess I confess I confess.
Out like a light,
Another boy who’s given up trying,
Blinded by fright,

He scream my life’s not open,
Please get out,
I know I’m shouting,
I like to shout.

It’s not a joke it’s cards on the table time
It’s not a joke it’s cards on the table time
I could have phoned
I could have wrote

But how to break the news without breaking your heart
Being dead don’t hurt,
No only dying
Cards on the table time,
Sometimes it’s right to say goodnight.

Always searching for paradise,
I’ll admit that I’m good as blind
Darling I confess yes I’ve ruined three lives
And didn’t care till I found out that one of them was mine.

I confess, I deserve some type of punishment
I confess, if it’s all the same to you I’ll stay indifferent
I confess I confess I confess

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

The Beatles (Paul McCartney) – Here, There and Everywhere

To lead a better life I need my love to be here
Here, making each day of the year
Changing my life with a wave of her hand
Nobody can deny that there’s something there

There, running my hands through her hair
Both of us thinking how good it can be
Someone is speaking but she doesn’t know he’s there

I want her everywhere and if she’s beside me
I know I need never care
But to love her is to need her everywhere
Knowing that love is to share

Each one believing that love never dies
Watching her eyes and hoping I’m always there

I want her everywhere and if she’s beside me
I know I need never care
But to love her is to need her everywhere
Knowing that love is to share

Each one believing that love never dies
Watching her eyes and hoping I’m always there

To be there and everywhere
Here, there and everywhere

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Graham Parker – Lunatic Fringe

I want to thank you for sticking my neck out
I know I’ll be there when they let the cranks out
I won’t become a bore, got too much to answer for

My heart is in a can, my neck is in your hands
You wanted a family man but I’m not relating
I’ll never feel unhinged I’d rather be estranged, I don’t care, I don’t care

Second cousin to the poor relation,
Holding last week’s ticket in this week’s train station
Relegated to the third division on the lunatic fringe

I’m not on any team not after what I’ve seen
All that back-slapping makes me want to scream
I’ll just be feeling low, waiting for the final whistle to blow

They’re beating metal, outside this window
I’m getting a kick out of every hammer blow
I know I can’t escape it until I’ve been reshaped and
I’m only, I’m only…

Second cousin to the poor relation,
Holding last week’s ticket in this week’s train station
Relegated to the third division on the lunatic fringe

They’re pumping iron down in the village
They’re locking lions up in the zoo
I don’t know what I’m thinking I don’t know where I’m sinking
Down there, down there

Second cousin to the poor relation,
Holding last week’s ticket in this week’s train station
Relegated to the third division on the lunatic fringe

On the lunatic fringe, On the lunatic fringe, On the lunatic fringe

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

The Housemartins – There Is Always Something There To Remind Me

The teacher’s name was Charles
He made me feel like Jack
Thought Martin was late
‘Cause he sat right at the back

Thought my name was Peter
The time that I was there
I told him it was Paul
But he didn’t seem to care

Drawing moustaches and glasses
While on the ‘ruling classes’
Drawing willies on soldiers
From Berlin to Damascus

It shouts out loud
I’m more than you

Making bombs in chemistry,
And catapults in craft,
He thought I must be far too
Down, for this class
He even told the caretaker,
I didn’t want to pass,
And he agreed he’d seen me,
Cutting ‘cross his grass

Would he keep all the marbles,
He’d taken in that year?
Would we stormtroop the staffroom,
And pinch his cans of beer?

It shouts out loud
I’m more than you.

There is always something there to remind me,
Of something that I should’ve left behind me,
It taps you on the shoulder in a queue,
It shouts across the street, “I’ve more than you”,
There is always something there to remind me,
Of you.

It shouts out loud
I’m more than you.

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Split Enz (Tim Finn/Neil Finn) – Hard act to follow

There’s a lot of good acts around
Plenty of profound performers
But there’s only one, who really gets through to me
Whenever you come on I light up
Everything you do goes down well
I can tell, after you it’s all downhill

Proving you’re a hard act to follow
You’re a hard act to follow
You make it difficult (so) difficult
Hard act to follow, you’re a hard act to follow
Keeping me at arms length, sapping my strength from a distance
Hard act to follow

Watch a lot of foreign movies
See a lot of late night TV
Looking for a girl to distract me from what you are
Try to lose my concentration
Acting out of sheer frustration
I go out at night, but after you it doesn’t feel right

Proving you’re a hard act to follow
You’re a hard act to follow
You make it difficult, so difficult
Hard act to follow you’re a hard act to follow
Keeping me at arms length, sapping my strength from a distance
Hard act to follow

There’s a lot of good acts around
Plenty of profound performers
But there’s only one, who really gets through to me
And I’m not looking for an actress
No, no, no, no saki hostess
All I want is you and you and you and you and you
Encore, encore, encore, encore

Proving you’re a hard act to follow
You’re a hard act to follow
You make it difficult to even think of taking in another play
Hard act to follow, you’re a hard act to follow
Keeping me at arms length, sapping my strength from a distance
Lie like Ophelia
Proving you’re a mean scene stealer
Proving you’re a hard act to follow
Hard act to follow

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

Roxy Music (Bryan Ferry) – Virginia Plain

Make me a deal and make it straight
All signed and sealed, I’ll take it
To Robert E. Lee, I’ll show it
I hope and pray he don’t blow it, ’cause

We’ve been around a long time
Just tryin’ to, tryin’ to, tryin’ to
Make the big time

Take me on a roller coaster
Take me for an airplane ride
Take me for a six day wonder, but don’t you
Don’t you throw my pride aside, besides

What’s real and make believe
Baby Jane’s in Acapulco
We are flyin’ down to Rio

Throw me a line, I’m sinking fast
Clutching at straws, can’t make it
Havana sound were trying
Hard edge the hipster jiving

Last picture shows down the drive-in
You’re so sheer, you’re so chic
Teenage rebel of the week

Flavors of the mountain streamline
Midnight blue, casino floors
Dance the Cha-cha through till sunrise
Opens up exclusive doors, oh wow!

Just like flamingos look the same
So me and you, just we two
Got to search for something new

Far beyond the pale horizon
Some place near the desert strand
Where my Studebaker takes me
That’s where I’ll make my stand, but wait

Can’t you see that Holzer mane?
What’s her name, Virginia Plain

One song each from my 20 favourite pop song writers

The Stranglers – Hey! (Rise of the robots)

Hey! (hey, hey, what do you say?)
Get out of their way (hey, hey, what do you say?)
Hey! (hey, hey, what do you say?)
Of get way their out (hey, hey, what do you say?)
They’re gonna want a union soon
Oil break that’s dead on noon

Hey! (hey, hey, what do you say?)
Their way out of get (hey, hey, what do you say?)
You won’t have to grease their palms
Shorter hours longer arms

Rise just watch them rise
The rise of the robots
Versatran Series F!

Hey! (hey, hey, what do you say?)
Get out of their way (hey, hey, what do you say?)
Hey! (hey, hey, what do you say?)
Way their of out get (hey, hey, what do you say?)
Metal fashioned into man
No ticker I could drop a tear

Hey! (hey, hey, what do you say?)
Out their way of get (hey, hey, what do you say?)
They’re good workers, they don’t get bored
Don’t get mad at bosses yet

Rise just watch them rise
The rise of the robots
Versatran Series F!

Hey!
Get out of their way (hey, hey, what do you say?)

Hey!
Get out of their way
Just watch them rise
The rise of the robots
Versatran Series F!

This entry was posted in Music.

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