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now the waitress ... guess I have to wait before
listening on ... maria mckee should force lawsuits
to prevent any similar names from gaining trust ... ... ~*~
go west in moscow ? very unlikely - now live: . petshop boys -
afaik the song was originally written for four castrated voices and five
big drums - tonight they seem to perform it without big drums ... ... ~*~
Modificado por danoschek (8. Noviembre 2004, 17:38:57)
when in your opinion the pertinent troublemakers
got a gripe and might deserve being taken off hide,
just by courtesy for the sake of a smooth boardtraffic ... ~*~
*
There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure
And you know sometimes words have two meanings
In the tree by the brook there's a songbird who sings
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven
Oh I've been smiling lately, dreaming about the world as one
And I believe it could be, some day it's going to come
Cause out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country, come take me home again ...
And if you call me brother now,
Forgive me if I inquire,
Just according to whose plan ?
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
When it all comes down to dust
I will help you if I must,
I will kill you if I can.
And mercy on our uniform,
Man of peace or man of war,
The peacock spreads his fan.
Modificado por danoschek (13. Septiembre 2004, 19:07:12)
before the prison - starts 9/27 - features that song,
- and, please, choose a moderator related to music.
thank you. (also in the name of Marianne Faithful) ... ~*~
Modificado por danoschek (25. Julio 2004, 22:58:01)
indeed he would not have noticed *evilish grin* - but actually
I have not got you wrong - I assumed so. ;) just never failing to be amazed who
in particular is interested in listening to satanic messages and similar spam ... 0:) ... ~*~
Modificado por danoschek (25. Julio 2004, 22:33:59)
since zappa published a remake on his double CD
with the modest title 'best band you've ever heard'
I think weird fantasies of american christians are neglectable. ~*~
Asunto: It's all napster's fault, btw --- as without napster the us music industry had collapsed long ago
Modificado por danoschek (25. Julio 2004, 21:56:34)
who'd pay for underseasoned and overpriced CDs anyway ? napster slowly woke up
public interest, people checked usury music for free which to they wouldn't have listened
with their butts before and started buying again, selectively and informed ... ~*~
Asunto: Rat Alert - Time Again - for Tinsel Town Rebellion
Modificado por danoschek (25. Julio 2004, 21:42:29)
The US music industry - mainly known for lacking creativity, skills and intelligence,
tries to launch a new plot at freedom, encouraged by an according governement.
Now programmers and even just owners of videorecorders/computers get under usa attack.
some links to stay tuned and in touch for counter-actions:
Modificado por danoschek (22. Julio 2004, 02:27:49)
yeah poor bwild - those regulators are evil pretenders ... :D
their words look english, but shortly later you ask yourself why they aren't ...
*sheepish grin* I have learned a lot from them ... 0:) ... ~*~
Modificado por danoschek (22. Julio 2004, 02:17:45)
indeed there are people who cAn have a meaningful discussion
by exchanging songtexts. I look over the 'neverending' meant for emphasis.
On the other side/principle, a lyrics collection is actually best held in a FS imho ... ~*~
Modificado por danoschek (21. Julio 2004, 18:08:00)
no - actually it's up to whoever to prove that it is NOT legal.
since canditacy will be found easily though - in the commonly known
circles who always threaten sites with legal actions when they can't
get their cheater-will, we won't have to wait for very long until the first
desperate blurring will occur ... I for my person won't stoop to any
waving with certificates. PD (public domain) is not the only anchor.
FD (freely distributable) lyrics are given by numerous artists, as well ... ~*~
My words but a whisper -- your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in
the tidal destruction
the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers
the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
your suntan does rapidly peel and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the love that I feel is so far away:
I'm a bad dream that I just had today -- and you
shake your head and
say it's a shame.
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.
See there! A son is born -- and we pronounce him fit to fight.
There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night.
We'll
make a man of him
put him to trade
teach him
to play Monopoly and
to sing in the rain.
The Poet and the painter casting shadows on the water --
as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea.
The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other --
as the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed.
The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling --
but the master of the house is far away.
The horses stamping -- their warm breath clouding
in the sharp and frosty morning of the day.
And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword.
And the youngest of the family is moving with authority.
Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside.
The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river
where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea:
the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose
and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need.
The young men of the household have
all gone into service and
are not to be expected for a year.
The innocent young master -- thoughts moving ever faster --
has formed the plan to change the man he seems.
And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword.
And the oldest of the family is moving with authority.
Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run.
What do you do when
the old man's gone -- do you want to be him? And
your real self sings the song.
Do you want to free him?
No one to help you get up steam --
and the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam.
LATER.
I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways.
My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed.
So come on all you criminals!
I've got to put you straight just like I did with my old man --
twenty years too late.
Your bread and water's going cold.
Your hair is too short and neat.
I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me.
You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone -- you meet the stares.
You're unaware that your doings aren't done.
And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be.
But how are we supposed to see where we should run?
I see you shuffle in the courtroom with
your rings upon your fingers and
your downy little sidies and
your silver-buckle shoes.
Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comic-paper idol
who lets you bend the rules.
So!
Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't you rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super crooks
and show us all the way.
Well! Make your will and testament. Won't you?
Join your local government.
We'll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.
You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are --
and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
And you wonder who to call on.
So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall --
writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition
of the Boy Scout Manual.
LATER.
See there! A man born -- and we pronounce him fit for peace.
There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease.
We'll
take the child from him
put it to the test
teach it
to be a wise man
how to fool the rest.
QUOTE
We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional
God is an overwhelming responsibility
we walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons
cats are on the upgrade
upgrade? Hipgrave. Oh, Mac.
LATER
In the clear white circles of morning wonder,
I take my place with the lord of the hills.
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured (in neat little rows)
sporting canvas frills.
With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention,
while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen.
Saying -- how's your granny and
good old Ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win.
The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn) lie cradled
in the seagull's call.
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall.
The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun,
and signal for the crack of dawn.
Light the sun.
Do you believe in the day? Do you?
Believe in the day! The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun.
Soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one.
Do you believe in the day?
The fading hero has returned to the night -- and fully pregnant with the day,
wise men endorse the poet's sight.
Do you believe in the day? Do you? Believe in the day!
Let me tell you the tales of your life of
your love and the cut of the knife
the tireless oppression
the wisdom instilled
the desire to kill or be killed.
Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by.
The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red -- while the fool
toasts his god in the sky.
So come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father are fed
with
the blood of the fools and
the thoughts of the wise and
from the pan under your bed.
Let me make you a present of song as
the wise man breaks wind and is gone while
the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and
the nursery rhyme winds along.
So! Come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
See! The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
and the hour of judgement draweth near.
Would you be
the fool stood in his suit of armour or
the wiser man who rushes clear.
So! Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't your rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super-crooks and
show us all the way.
Well! Make your will and testament.
Won't you? Join your local government.
We'll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.
So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
They're all resting down in Cornwall -- writing up their memoirs
for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual.
OF COURSE
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
I never believed in things that I couldn't see
I said if I can't feel it then how can it be
No, no magic could happen to me
And then I saw you
I couldn't believe it, you took my heart
I couldn't retrieve it, said to myself
What's it all about
Now I know there can be no doubt
You can do magic
You can have anything that you desire
Magic, and you know
You're the one who can put out the fire
You know darn well
When you cast your spell you will get your way
When you hypnotize with your eyes
A heart of stone can turn to clay
Doo, doo, doo ...
And when the rain is beatin' upon the window pane
And when the night it gets so cold, when I can't sleep
Again you come to me
I hold you tight, the rain disappears
Who would believe it
With a word you dry my tears
You can do magic
You can have anything that you desire
Magic, and you know
You're the one who can put out the fire
You know darn well
When you cast your spell you will get your way
When you hypnotize with your eyes
A heart of stone can turn to clay
Doo, doo, doo ...
And If I wanted to
I could never be free
I never believed it was true
But now it's so clear to me
You can do magic
You can have anything that you desire
Magic, and you know
You're the one who can put out the fire
You know darn well
When you cast your spell you will get your way
When you hypnotize with your eyes
A heart of stone can turn to clay
Doo, doo, doo ...
You're the one who can put out the fire
(You're the one who can put out the fire
You're the one who can put out the fire ...)
Some people’s hot
Some people’s cold
Some people’s not very
Swift to behold
Some people do it
Some see right through it
Some wear pyjamas
If only they knew it
The pyjamas people are boring me to pieces
They make me feel like I am wasting my time
They all got flannel up ’n down ’em
A little trap-door back aroun’ ’em
An’ some cozy little footies on their mind
Po-jama people!
Po-jama people, people!
Lawd, they make you sleepy
With the things they might say
Po-jama people!
Po-jama people, people!
Mother, mary ’n jozuf, wish they’d all go away!
Po-jama people!
It’s a po-jama people special...
Take one home with you & save a dollar today
Po-jama people!
Po-jama people, people!
Wrap ’em up
Roll ’em out
Get ’em out of my way ...
"Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together"
"I've got some real estate here in my bag"
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies
And we walked off to look for America
"Kathy," I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh
"Michigan seems like a dream to me now"
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw
I've gone to look for America
Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said "Be careful his bowtie is really a camera"
"Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat"
"We smoked the last one an hour ago"
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine
And the moon rose over an open field
"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all gone to look for America
All gone to look for America
All gone to look for America
Where icicles hung the blossoms swing,
but in my heart there is no spring.
You were my spring, my summer too,
it's always winter without you.
The flocks head north and the lilacs bloom,
at night they scent my moonlit room.
You were my spring, my summer too,
I'm going north to look for you.
Like a windblown bird my heart goes forth,
sent by the spring to the shining north.
You are my spring, my summer too,
and I won't rest till I find you.
.1) Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention
.2) The Beatles
.3) Pink Floyd
.4) The Cream
.5) Talking Heads
.6) Genesis (upto 'Selling England by the Pound')
.7) Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
.8) Jethro Tull
.9) The Band
10) Stranglers
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