A cupboard full of dead man's clothes
Topaz
What was in his tin
The Top Nine
The sky today, these cars, it all looks dirty
Brown Paper
The Book that Came From the Sky
Robert Jones, Higgler
How the fields so neat are shaven
I do not begin to explain, but death has dropped away
House on Stilts, Girls Exploding
Only in one way am I exhausted
And then I realised I hadn't heard
I could be a minor diplomat but I'd be kidnapped and die with a dirty beard
Magnificent men smelling of oil
There are always warnings in newspapers
Finding Ronnie
Nothing will grow in here, nothing outside
From the back, my neighbour, broader than I thought
I dreamt an old lover moved in next door
Weather, a rumour, but not necessarily untrue
A few of us wept, but we didn't know why
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