Superskin
Superskin holds my insides in
Can't you see the bloody corpses?
Behind my blackened grin
Mind's deconstructin'
The millstream within
Drop dead my friend
We've reached the end
You've let me down
Reachin' all the way to the blood red hope
And then you turn around
And all the sanity
Rips out the seams
Rip roar and red and runnin'
Whatcha gonna do when I come on blue
And resurrect me
Come spittin' flames
If I were a dog
Would you stop me?
Would you be me?
Till I fight your hand
Should I bite your hand?
Superskin keeps me safe in sin
I'm the one you've got to mention
Before I let you win
Mind's decomposin'
And the wood's gone rancid
Come back my friend it's time again
To let me down
Cut all the way to the big bad wolf
And again, you turned around
And all the sanity
Rips out the seams
Rip roar and red and runnin'
Whatcha gonna do when I come on blue
And resurrect me
Come spittin' flames
If I were a dog
Would you stop me?
Would you be me?
Till I fight your hand
Should I bite your hand?
Should I bite your hand?
Superskin holds my insides in
Can't you see the bloody corpses?
Behind my blackened grin
Mind's deconstructin'
The millstream within
Drop dead my friend
We've reached the end
You've let me down
[...] Read more
song performed by Stone Sour
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Running To You
Im comin around
I want you to come
Im comin arou-ound
Just for the fun
Havin a real time
Just taking whats not mine
And Im doin what I want to do
Thats runnin to you
(runnin to you)
(runnin to you)
Thats runnin to you
(runnin to you)
Thats (runnin to you) runnin to you
Youre lookin for someone
Maniacal shots
Youre lookin for someone
All over the top
Im havin a real time
Just reading your head-line
And Im doin just what I want to do
Thats runnin to you
(runnin to you)
(runnin to you) runnin to you
Thats runnin to you
(runnin to you)
(runnin to you)
Youre hopin for someone
That fits in the plan
Youre hopin for someone
Two in the hand
Havin a real time
Just taking whats not mine
And Im doin what I like to do
Thats runnin to you
(runnin to you)
(runnin to you)
A runnin a runnin to you
(runnin to you)
Thats runnin to you
(runnin to you)
Uh thats runnin to you
(runnin to you)
(runnin to you) runnin to you
(runnin to you) runnin runnin runnin to you
Runnin to you
(runnin to you)
I like runnin to you
(runnin to you)
(runnin to you) runnin runnin to you
(runnin to you)
[...] Read more
song performed by Cars
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Runnin'
It's hard to hit a moving target
At least that's what I've been told
If they can't catch you they can't hurt you
You never let them get a hold
So I keep runinn'
I keep right on runnin'
I've always pushed it to the limit
In fact I've pushed it way past that
If you got guts then jump on in it
If not then don't forget your hat
And I keep runnin'
Keep on runnin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Even though I'm cryin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Keep myself from dyin'
Kick back, relax, don't try to fight it
I'm like a time bomb set to blow
Oh babe, you make me so excited
I just can't take it anymore
I might stop cryin'
Feels like I'm flyin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Though it feels like flyin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
You make me feel like dyin'
Sail - sail - sail
Sail - sail - sail
Babe, I can't run away from you
But I'm scared to let you know
I never stayed one place long enough
To lose my will to go
Our future's way on up ahead
The past fades somewhere far behind
If we could just inveil our needs
No one could stop us or we'd be flyin'
We could stop runnin'
Stop all this runnin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
No more need for cryin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Love feels like just flyin'
Sail - sail - sail
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
No more need for cryin'
Sail - sail - sail
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Lovemake me feel like flyin'
Sail - sail - sail
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
[...] Read more
song performed by Cher
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the Fourth
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!
II.
She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.
III.
In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!
IV.
But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.
V.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You Got Me Runnin
Hang on
Yeah
Ha ha ha ha ha
I dont care too much for your backstabbin and side steppin
Youre all sweet talk, youre all lust
Youre the kind, yeah, I dont trust
I gotta get out, step aside
Before you damage my pride
Let me through dont spoil my view
I gotta get away, away from you
Oh no no never thought Id feel so low
You got me runnin
You got me runnin
I aint gonna hide
And yesterday everything seemed okay
Yeah you better run and hide away
Oh you better hide
Youre out, on the street
But Im back on my feet
I might lose it, so get wise
Stop your usin and your lies
Oh my friend dont stick around
Your time is up, the chips are down
Let me through dont spoil my view
I gotta get away, away from you
You got me runnin (you got me runnin)
You got me runnin (you got me runnin)
You got me runnin (you got me runnin)
You got me runnin, runnin, runnin
Cmon
Whoah
Oh oh oh oh yeah
Runnin and runnin
Runnin
Oh
Watch me run
Runnin, runnin, runnin
You got me runnin (you got me runnin)
You got me runnin (you got me runnin)
You got me runnin (you got me runnin)
You got me runnin (you got me runnin)
Im gettin out (you got me runnin)
You cant say no no more (you got me runnin)
Get out the door (you got me runnin)
You got me runnin
song performed by Def Leppard
Added by Lucian Velea
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Just Gimme Whatcha Got
I don't ever want to find the time,
To try to define you!
Just gimme whatcha got!
I don't ever want to wreck my mind,
To try to define you!
Just gimme whatcha got!
That would mean a lot.
And it would never bother me.
ooo
I don't ever want to find the time,
To try to define you!
Just gimme whatcha got!
I don't ever want to wreck my mind,
To try to define you!
Just gimme whatcha got!
That would mean a lot.
And it would never bother me.
Just gimme whatcha got!
Let me be the receiver.
Just gimme whatcha got!
I will be the believer.
Just gimme whatcha got!
To leave in my memory.
Just gimme whatcha got!
To retreive in my dreams.
Just gimme whatcha got!
Let me be the receiver.
Just gimme whatcha got!
I will be the believer.
Just gimme whatcha got!
To leave in my memory.
Just gimme whatcha got!
To retreive in my dreams.
I don't ever want to wreck my mind,
To try to define you!
Just gimme whatcha got!
That would mean a lot.
And it would never bother me.
ooo
Just gimme whatcha got!
Let me be the receiver.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pressure Drop
(hibbert)
Mmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm yeah, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm, yeah
It is you, oh yeah, oh yeah
It is you, oh oh, oh yeah
I said pressure drop, whoa pressure yeah, pressures gonna drop on you
I said pressure drop, whoe pressure yeah, pressures gonna drop on you
I said when it drops, youre gonna feel it, how its been doin you wrong
I said when it drops, youre gonna feel it, how its been doin you wrong
I said pressure drop, whoa pressure yeah pressures gonna drop on you
I said pressure drop, whoa pressure yeah pressures gonna drop on you
It is you, oh yeah,
It is you , oh yeah
Mmmmm, nmmmmmmm, mmmmmm, yeah
Mmmmm, mmmmmm, mmmmmm yeah
It is you, oh yeah,
It is you, oh yeah,
I say pressure drop, whoa pressure yeah, pressures gonna drop on you
I say pressure drop, whoa pressure drop, pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure, pressure,pressure, pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure, pressure,pressure, pressures gonna drop on you, you you you, yeah
Pressure, pressure, pressures gonna drop on you,
Pressure, pressure, pressures gonna drop on you,
Pressure drop whoa pressure yeah,hey pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure drop hey pressure yeah,hey pressures gonna drop on you
I said when it drops youre gonna feel it, how its been doing you wrong
I said when it drops youre gonna feel it, how its been doing you wrong
It is you, oh yeah
It is you, oh yeah
Pressure,pressure, pressure, pressures pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure,pressure, pressure, yeah pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure drop, whoa pressure , yeah pressures gonna drop on you
I said pressure drop, whoa pressure drop,whoa pressures gonna drop on you
I said when it drops youre gonna feel it, how its been doing you wrong
I said when it drops youre gonna feel it, how its been doing you wrong
Pressure,pressure, pressure, pressures pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure,pressure, pressure, pressures pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure, pressure, pressures pressures gonna drop on you
song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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III. The Other Half-Rome
Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!
There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Tower Beyond Tragedy
I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions
Let fly from the wide window over the entrance the wildbirds of
their metal throats, air-cleaving
Over the King come home. He raised his thick burnt-colored
beard and smiled; then Clytemnestra,
Gathering the robe, setting the golden-sandaled feet carefully,
stone by stone, descended
One half the stair. But one of the captives marred the comeliness
of that embrace with a cry
Gull-shrill, blade-sharp, cutting between the purple cloak and
the bronze plates, then Clytemnestra:
Who was it? The King answered: A piece of our goods out of
the snatch of Asia, a daughter of the king,
So treat her kindly and she may come into her wits again. Eh,
you keep state here my queen.
You've not been the poorer for me.- In heart, in the widowed
chamber, dear, she pale replied, though the slaves
Toiled, the spearmen were faithful. What's her name, the slavegirl's?
AGAMEMNON Come up the stair. They tell me my kinsman's
Lodged himself on you.
CLYTEMNESTRA Your cousin Aegisthus? He was out of refuge,
flits between here and Tiryns.
Dear: the girl's name?
AGAMEMNON Cassandra. We've a hundred or so other
captives; besides two hundred
Rotted in the hulls, they tell odd stories about you and your
guest: eh? no matter: the ships
Ooze pitch and the August road smokes dirt, I smell like an
old shepherd's goatskin, you'll have bath-water?
CLYTEMNESTRA
They're making it hot. Come, my lord. My hands will pour it.
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Added by Poetry Lover
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Rip It Up
My head is dancin? like a ball full of fire
Burnin? up with the flames gettin? higher
Rip it up, rip it up good
Rip it up like you know you really should
We never have to say a thing to one another
The band is hot n? there playing it like a mother
Rip it up, rip it up good
Rip it up like yknow you really should
Get you on the rebound, catch ywhen you fall
Singin? long tall sally? gonna rip it up, rip it up
Sweet is drippin? from the ceiling an? the walls
Word is out.i hear the curtains gonna fall
Rip it up, rip it up good
Rip it up like yknow you really should
Get you on the rebound, catch ywhen you fall
Singin? long tall sally? gonna rip it up, rip it up
Rip it up, rip it up good
Rip it up like yknow you really should
Get you on the rebound,catch ywhen you fall
Singin? long tall sally? gonna rip it up, rip it up
Ooh, rip it up, rip it up (rip it up)
Ooh, rip it up, rip it up (rip it up,rip it up)
(rankin....copyright control)
Published by nazareth (dunfermline) ltd.
Copyright 1994 polydor gmbh, hamburg
song performed by Nazareth
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Rip The Night Away
If it ain't natural, then it ain't real
Ohh we gon' be kickin' tonight
We gon' be sipping tonight
Ripping the night away (rip the night away)
Ohh, when the time is right
Another full moon light
We rip the night away (rip the night away)
If this was the last joint, that we ever rolled up tight,
I'd want to be with good friends, underneath that open sky,
Play some mellow music, throw our dreams into the fire,
Release all the demons, and our souls are uprising
Oh we gon' be kickin' tonight
We gon' be sipping tonight
Ripping the night away (rip the night away)
Oh, when the time is right
Another full moon light
We rip the night away (rip the night away)
Oh we gon' be kickin' tonight
We gon' be sipping tonight
Ripping the night away (rip the night away)
Oh, when the time is right
Another full moon light
We rip the night away (rip the night away)
There's nothing in the world like some good times and good vibes
Surrounded with your friends and your family by your side
All the time you spent together going out havin' fun
Doin' the things you do, this life style's got us on the run
Life's too precious every moment make it count
Some days you're on the top some day's you're down and out
This life's a gift, I'm gonna shine my light
So sit back, relax, get high, with us and kick it with us tonight
Oh we gon' be kickin' tonight
We gon' be sipping tonight
Ripping the night away (rip the night away)
Oh, when the time is right
Another full moon light
We rip the night away (rip the night away)
Oh we gon' be kickin' tonight
We gon' be sipping tonight
Ripping the night away (rip the night away)
Oh, when the time is right
Another full moon light
We rip the night away (rip the night away)
(Rip the night away)
Burning, burning, burning
(Rip the night away)
Burning, burning, burning
(Rip the night away)
Burning, the night away
Take me to the mountain high, where I can smoke a bowl in peace while I drive
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song performed by Kottonmouth Kings
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thurso’s Landing
I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.
II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,
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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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You Keep Runnin' Away
I hear your high-heels clickin' down the boulevard
You got your suitcase in hand, guess you're takin' it hard
You swear you'll never trust another man
Ah, but I know that you will, it's just a question of when
So open up your eyes to the light
You've been far too alone for too many nights, oh
Someday, someway, somewhere, love is gonna find you
Somehow, someone is gonna beg you to stay
But you keep on runnin', you keep runnin'
You keep on runnin' away
I hear it whispered in the neighborhood
At one time you were the best, it was just understood
Then someone came and took you for a fool
The word is out on the street that love is looking for you
So open up your eyes to the light
You've been far too alone for too many nights, oh
Someday, someway, somewhere, love is gonna find you
Somehow, somewhere, don't look now, I'm comin' up behind you
But you keep on runnin', you keep runnin'
You keep on runnin' away
Yes you do baby
So don't be fooled, you got me comin'
I ain't no fool, you keep me runnin'
And I don't know why
No, I don't know why
So open up, don't be afraid, baby
Is there someone standin' in our way
Won't you tell me why
Don't you tell me goodbye, oh
Someday, someway, somewhere, love is gonna find you
Somehow, someone is gonna beg you to stay, baby
Somehow, somewhere, don't look now, I'm comin' up behind you
But you keep runnin', you keep runnin'
You keep on runnin' away
But you keep on runnin', you keep runnin'
You keep on runnin' away
But you keep on runnin', you keep runnin'
You keep on runnin' away
But you keep on runnin', you keep runnin' away
But you keep on runnin', you keep runnin' away
But you keep on runnin', you keep runnin' away
But you keep on runnin', you keep runnin' away
song performed by 38 Special
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pitter Patter
It looks like rain and its been comin on for hours
It looks like rain I hear the rumble of thunder showers
Pretty soon the rain will play its sweet refrain
While we listen from inside
And until it stops, well hear the drips and drops
From beside the fireside
So let it rain (pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain) (goin drip
Drop drip drop)
Yeah and well be happy when it stops (pitter patter, pitter patter of
The rain) (goin drip drop drip drop)
cause when it rains (pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain) (goin
Drip drop drip drop)
The ways of love rise in my heart (pitter patter, pitter patter of the
Rain) (goin drip drop drip drop)
We wont be sad when there is a storm (ooooo)
And we can be glad (ooooo)
cause we can keep warm, yeah, yeah
Listen to the rain
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter oooo
A rain swept plain
Soon after springtime rains blow over
Will sprout new grain
And miles of fresh green fields of clover
Winter and its cold soon will lose its hold
With the changes spring will bring
Sun comes pourin down warmin up the ground
Bringin new life with the spring
So let it rain (pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain) (goin drip
Drop drip drop)
Yeah and well be happy when it stops (pitter patter, pitter patter of
The rain) (goin drip drop drip drop)
cause when it rains (pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain) (goin
Drip drop drip drop)
The ways of love rise in my heart (pitter patter, pitter patter of the
Rain) (goin drip drop drip drop)
And like the risin tides love is growin stronger (ooooo)
Lets ride out the storm just a little bit longer yeah (ooooo)
Listen to the rain
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter oooo
Listen to the rain
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter oooo
Listen to the rain
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
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song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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II. Half-Rome
What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)
Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying Glory smiles
O'er the far times, when many a subject land
Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, thron'd on her hundred isles!
II.
She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she rob'd, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increas'd.
III.
In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone -- but Beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade -- but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!
IV.
But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city's vanish'd sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away --
The keystones of the arch! though all were o'er,
For us repeopl'd were the solitary shore.
V.
The beings of the mind are not of clay;
Essentially immortal, they create
And multiply in us a brighter ray
And more belov'd existence: that which Fate
Prohibits to dull life, in this our state
[...] Read more
Custer
BOOK FIRST.
I.
ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy.
Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy
To sing of deeds as dauntless and as brave
As e'er lent luster to a warrior's grave.
Sing of that noble soldier, nobler man,
Dear to the heart of each American.
Sound forth his praise from sea to listening sea-
Greece her Achilles claimed, immortal Custer, we.
II.
Intrepid are earth's heroes now as when
The gods came down to measure strength with men.
Let danger threaten or let duty call,
And self surrenders to the needs of all;
Incurs vast perils, or, to save those dear,
Embraces death without one sigh or tear.
Life's martyrs still the endless drama play
Though no great Homer lives to chant their worth to-day.
III.
And if he chanted, who would list his songs,
So hurried now the world's gold-seeking throngs?
And yet shall silence mantle mighty deeds?
Awake, dear Muse, and sing though no ear heeds!
Extol the triumphs, and bemoan the end
Of that true hero, lover, son and friend
Whose faithful heart in his last choice was shown-
Death with the comrades dear, refusing flight alone.
IV.
He who was born for battle and for strife
Like some caged eagle frets in peaceful life;
So Custer fretted when detained afar
From scenes of stirring action and of war.
And as the captive eagle in delight,
When freedom offers, plumes himself for flight
And soars away to thunder clouds on high,
With palpitating wings and wild exultant cry,
V.
So lion-hearted Custer sprang to arms,
And gloried in the conflict's loud alarms.
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poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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