| Song | Tie |
| Artist | Benoît Pioulard |
| Album | Lyon |
| Flee to the fields, it’s a locust year | |
| Leas & melt-water to defy the seer | |
| A rosary around the wrists | |
| The rope descends with tenderness | |
| Oh they’ve got a file on me | |
| The Venn pall of anxiety | |
| Sticks across fences make a raucous sound | |
| The call of the abyss, foxglove’s on the ground | |
| Flee to the fields, take your calmative | |
| First to arrive, always the last to leave | |
| O the rapture of the plain, an intimation of mortality | |
| A halcyon sketch of persistent unease hanging from the Magnolia tree |
| Flee to the fields, it' s a locust year | |
| Leas meltwater to defy the seer | |
| A rosary around the wrists | |
| The rope descends with tenderness | |
| Oh they' ve got a file on me | |
| The Venn pall of anxiety | |
| Sticks across fences make a raucous sound | |
| The call of the abyss, foxglove' s on the ground | |
| Flee to the fields, take your calmative | |
| First to arrive, always the last to leave | |
| O the rapture of the plain, an intimation of mortality | |
| A halcyon sketch of persistent unease hanging from the Magnolia tree |