| Song | The Purveyor of Novelty and Nonsense |
| Artist | Coalesce |
| Album | Ox |
| 作曲 : Coalesce | |
| I am a merchant who fills this land with the novelty and nonsese that withers wills. | |
| My struggle is to keep with what country demands, and family deserves. | |
| I put the bread in the mouths of my best and last hope that this name earns honor. | |
| It will be the first. | |
| I am a purveyor of bullshit and landfill, and broken dreams. | |
| Oh look how I've made an inheritance of others' ideas. | |
| Most of which should not have left their lips. | |
| I fear that my usefulness has expired. | |
| Yet you won't let me go. | |
| I am in a race to produce things to buy to eat things to make more things. | |
| I don't have the tools to withdraw myself. | |
| We are not hearty, we are usually fallen ill. | |
| Is it the tough conversations that warrant our stay? | |
| See I am powerless and take no pleasure in hard battles of words won. | |
| But is this my story? | |
| I struggle to love right here, the shadows that pass me by. | |
| Why should I leave my land? | |
| I question the motives of those I should prop up on my shoulders and carry; but not my own at ny time. | |
| I will not leave my land. |
| zuò qǔ : Coalesce | |
| I am a merchant who fills this land with the novelty and nonsese that withers wills. | |
| My struggle is to keep with what country demands, and family deserves. | |
| I put the bread in the mouths of my best and last hope that this name earns honor. | |
| It will be the first. | |
| I am a purveyor of bullshit and landfill, and broken dreams. | |
| Oh look how I' ve made an inheritance of others' ideas. | |
| Most of which should not have left their lips. | |
| I fear that my usefulness has expired. | |
| Yet you won' t let me go. | |
| I am in a race to produce things to buy to eat things to make more things. | |
| I don' t have the tools to withdraw myself. | |
| We are not hearty, we are usually fallen ill. | |
| Is it the tough conversations that warrant our stay? | |
| See I am powerless and take no pleasure in hard battles of words won. | |
| But is this my story? | |
| I struggle to love right here, the shadows that pass me by. | |
| Why should I leave my land? | |
| I question the motives of those I should prop up on my shoulders and carry but not my own at ny time. | |
| I will not leave my land. |