There was a love affair in this building The kind of love affair Which every respectable building must keep as a legend Slowly festering through an innocent "by the way" Or "have you heard" He was perfect except for the fact that he was an engineer And mothers prefer doctors And lawyers
Yet despite this imperfection He was clean-looking and respectable-looking And you'll never find a mother Who doesn't appreciate a natural man So he grew healthy aloe vera plants by the window Healthy teeth in his mouth Healthy hair on his head He grew healthy wavy brown hair on his head The kind, the kind that babies always go for With sticky little fingers
« Poslednja izmena: 17. Mar 2007, 21:53:59 od litricind »
Thought I'd cry for you forever But I couldn't so I didn't People's children die and they don't even cry forever Thought I'd see your face in my mind for all time But I don't even remember what your ears looked like
And the clock still strikes midnight and noon And the sun still rises and so does the moon Birds still migrate south and people move on Even though I'm no longer in your arms Thought the mountain would crumble And the rivers would bend But I thought all wrong and the world did not end Guess the maps will just have to stay the same for a while Didn't even need therapy to rehabilitate my smile Rehabilitate my smile
Thought I'd cry for you forever But I couldn't so I didn't...
« Poslednja izmena: 17. Mar 2007, 21:56:19 od litricind »
She lifted the monument in her monumental arms She was the Mother Superior with her carry-on luggage charms She was this androgynous powder nosed girl next door She had eaten her dog and she was back for more Back for more, back for more Oh she was back for more, some more, yes please, some more
Her gym teacher thought himself a sweat-socked demi-god And her geraniums thought themselves an alien pod And her front porch gave way beneath the classified weight And when an ambulance came they said it's much too late Oh it's much too late, oh it's much too, much too late Oh it's much too late, how late? Very late, too late.
Now the people of New Guinea and the people of L.A. Have been penpals for years cause they both hate ballet Only the pandas and bears have made a clean get away But the news bulletin claims it is gonna be okay Now Miss Lucy had a sweat shop where the immigrants work Problem was they all turned to pumpkins at the 12 o'clock stroke Promptly confiscated by police precinct number X That was when alien geraniums entered into a fight No violence, of course, no violence, no violence, of course Hey no violence, of course, of course, why yes, of course I mean, I mean, of course, why yes, of...of course
Here the story gets hazy and the hair gets too long And the T.V. gets quiet as I hear a real bad song The mothers get whiskey and the girlfriends get tongue And there's a back of a truck selling smoke free lungs And there's a back of a truck selling alien pods And there's a back of a truck selling game show hosts And there's a back of a truck selling the souls of the dead And there's a back of a truck selling crumb free bread This is New York! Now there's a back of a truck selling the back of a car And there's a back of a car selling road way maps And there are road way maps selling a back of a head Hey how much for that back of a head, man? Hey wait a minute, hey wait a minute Wait a minute that's...wait a minute that's my back of a head Hey you can't sell that, man, that's my back of a head Hey, hey sell it back to me, man, sell it back to me Hey it's, it's my m-m-m-m-m-m-mine
She lifted the monument in her monumental arms She was the Mother Superior with her carry-on luggage charms She was this androgynous powder nosed girl next door She had eaten her dog and she was back for more She had eaten her dog, D-O-W-G She had eaten a dog, d-d-dog, d-d-dog, dog, dog, dog She had eaten a...eaten a...eaten...eaten her...ooooh Mmmmmm...mmmm...mmm Ohhhh...ohhh....ohhhh Ooooh....ooooooh...ooooh Some more, yes please, some more Some more, yes please, some more
« Poslednja izmena: 18. Mar 2007, 21:10:55 od litricind »
Buildings He was a husband who drove his wife home drunk from the parties He was a husband who drove his wife home And in the car he would gently lean her head on the side door window And in the bathroom he would hold her hair back and hope, saying;
They build buildings oh they build buildings oh they build buildings So tall these days
And in the morning she'd wake up and crouch recollections all day But she would always always wake up the next morning And he'd take one look at her a say baby that's ok And her conscience would issue yet another last warning, saying;
They build buildings oh they build buildings Oh they build buildings So tall these days
And she would ask for time And she'd ask for time And she would ask for time And she would beg for time, And she would beg for time And beg for time and call it a gift And he would give her time And he'd give her time And he would give her time And he'd give her time But time is not given and time is not taken It just sifts through its sift
And it was coffee and coffee and coffee And coffee and coffee and coffee some more He'd go to work and she'd take a sick day and rot at the core And by the time he came back She'd scrub the bathroom and make it smell like pine It would be almost as if nothing had happened And he'd give her time, saying;
They build buildings, oh they build buildings, oh they build buildings, Oh don't they build buildings, oh they build buildings, They build buildings so tall these days
And she would ask for time And she'd ask for time And she would ask for time And she would beg for time, And she would beg for time And beg for time and call it a gift And he would give her time And he'd give her time And he would give her time And he'd give her time- But time is not given and time is not taken It just sifts through its sift
He was a husband drove time home pine scrub bathroom window Don't they build buildings so tall these days...
« Poslednja izmena: 18. Mar 2007, 21:12:42 od litricind »
Miss Marry Ann Kept her man In porcupine gloves, in porcupine gloves And on that day As scheduled They made porcupine love, porcupine love
So stiff and stuck and prickly He came in and then back out quickly But lord not any quicker than according to plan Like a soldier, one foot in front of the other
Miss Marry Ann Had a man Named Stan, Stan Buttler He had no antlers He had no center He had no enter and he had no exit
His hair was short and prickly He came in and then back out quickly But lord not any quicker than according to plan Like a soldier, one foot in front of the other
And how he loved her apple pies, How he loved her meat loaf, How he loved her chicken breasts, How he loved her pudding, Served promptly at eight o'clock, Served promptly at seven Served promptly at ten o'clock, And promptly at eleven heaven
Miss Marry Ann Kept her cans In alphabetical order Miss Marry Ann Began to have Some thoughts of murder
Miss Marry Ann Started to think Real hard about her future Miss Marry Ann Preferred her meat To be freshly butchered
Oh she killed him rather quickly Man that woman was truly sickly But lord not any sicker than according to plan Like a soldier, one foot in front of the other
And how he loved her apple pies, How he loved her meat loaf, How he loved her chicken breasts, How he loved her pudding, Served promptly at eight o'clock, Served promptly at seven Served promptly at ten o'clock, And promptly at eleven heaven
Miss Marry Ann Kept her man In porcupine gloves, in porcupine gloves And on that day As scheduled They made porcupine love, Porcupine lo-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-apchu!
I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow But its better than sleeping by the wasteside of today All the barbershops and funeral-homes were open And the customers were coming and the business was doing great
I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow Just dreaming dreams and drooling on my bed All the people in my town would be born Then they'd get themselves a little hair cut And then promptly after they'd be dead
I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow When a drunk girl awoke me on the train But I did not see her stumbling and I did not hear her mumbling As I dubbed myself a passenger And kindly stepped away
I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow I was sleeping I was sleeping I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow of tomorrow Ladies and gentlemen I was just sleeeeee-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow But it's better than sleeping by the wasteside of today All the barbershops and funeral-homes were open And the customers were coming and the business Was Doing Great...
The grave diggers getting stuck in the machine Picking getting slim, slimmer I hear them say my name Regin-ah, regin-ah, regin-a-ah
Yes I'm putting the boulder to my ear And I still can't hear Whadya think I was an amateur Playin' with my temperature...
If I hear another song about angels If I see another feather on the dumb-box I'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey Gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey now... If I hear another song about angels If I see another feather on the dumb-box I'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey Oh get me some whiskey, get me some whisky, get me some whiskey now
My name is Lucille and I know how you feel I live downstairs I hear you taking out your garbage I hear you loving your girlfriend I hear you loving yourself too I hear you flushing your toliet I hear you turning your thoughts off I turn mine off too The only thing I hear is you And you don't sound nice and you don't sound right And you don't sound good and you don't sound right
My name is Lucille and I know how you feel I live downstairs I hear you taking out your garbage I hear you loving your girlfriend I hear you loving yourself too I hear you turning your thoughts off Oh, I hear you turning your thoughts off And it get's quiet...
Pavlov's daughter woke up in the morning Heard the bell ring And something deep inside of her made her want to salivate So she lay there drooling on her pillow So she lay there, the sun skimming her skin, And, and...drooling on her pillow Pavlov's daughter And it was far away and hazy like a dream Not a dream, not a dream, But the ocean, not the ocean, But forever...
The grave diggers getting stuck in the machine Picking getting slim, slimmer I hear them say my name Regin-ah, regin-ah, regin-a-ah
Yes I'm putting the boulder to my ear And I still can't hear Whadya think I was an amateur Playin' with my temperature...
If I hear another song about angels If I see another feather on the dumb-box I'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey Gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey now... If I hear another song about angels If I see another feather on the dumb-box I'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey Oh get me some whiskey, get me some whisky, get me some whiskey now
My name is Lucille and I know how you feel I live downstairs I hear you taking out your garbage I hear you loving your girlfriend I hear you loving yourself too I hear you turning your thoughts off I hear you turning your thoughts off And I turn mine off too The only thing I hear is you And you don't sound nice and you don't sound right And you don't sound good and you don't sound right
My name is Lucille and I know how you feel I live downstairs I hear you taking out your garbage I hear you loving your girlfriend I hear you loving yourself too I hear you turning your thoughts off I hear you turning your thoughts off It get's quiet...
As quiet as an ambulance checking out the neighborhood, Waiting for the blade to slip and that final blow, But nothing happens, it's a cruel joke As ironic as a ticker tape parade over the rain forest, As ironic as a ticker tape parade over my head, As ironic as a ticker tape parade over my head Going down stream... To where...it isn't... even... real...rain... at...all...
Somewhere far away where I roam There live my buffalo twin in our twin buffalo home He calls me by my native name And takes good care of my native son He even lets us drink spring water on Sundays 2.99 a gallon
And somewhere further down the road where I also roam There lives my caterpillar cousin beneath a fancy engraved tomb head stone In the middle of his southern town Beneath a cemetery burial plot He don't pay rent no more But he sure likes the spot
But in the furthest place I've ever known Where even I so rarely roam There lives a boy who just come back from war His flesh was wounded but he made it back home His mother calls him by his given name And the neighbors whisper how he prefers to be alone And he gets nightmares about boys dripping blood sold for 2.99 a gallon
But when I get me all real tired And I got no more strength to roam I catch me a horse driven carriage ride From a local man named Ethan Frome He don't say much as he tips his hat And he carries his body as heavy as lead And he could have been flying through the snow on his sled But he wife was in bed and the horses had to be fed Besides it's 2.99 a story Pay up it's just 2.99 a story... 2.99 a gallon
« Poslednja izmena: 18. Mar 2007, 21:17:14 od litricind »
She was lying on the floor and counting stretch marks She hadn't been a virgin and he hadn't been a god So she names the baby Elvis To make up for the royalty he lacked
And from then on it was turpentine and patches From then on it was cold Campbell's from the can And they were just two jerks playing with matches Cause that's all they knew how to play
And it was raining cats and dogs out side of her window And she knew they were destined to become Sacred road kill on the way And she was listening to the sound of heavens shaking Thinking about puddles, puddles and mistakes
Cause it's been turpentine and patches It's been cold, cold Campbell's from the can And they were just two jerks playing with matches Cause that's all they knew how to play
Elvis never could carry a tune She thought about this irony as she stared back at the moon She was tracing her years with her fingers on her skin Saying why don't I begin again With turpentine and patches With cold, cold Campbell's from the can After all I'm still a jerk playing with matches It's just that he's not around to play along I'm still an ass hole playing with candles Blowing out wishes blowing out dreams Just sitting here and trying to decipher What's written in Braille upon my skin...
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