Times Gettin Tougher Than Tough
A well moneys gettin cheaper
Price is gettin steeper
I found a little woman
But I just couldnt keep her
Times gettin tougher than tough
Times gettin rougher than rough
Well I make alot of money
I just keep spendin the stuff
Oh well pork chops on the market
Ask the butcher for a pound
I couldnt get no pork chop
When I laid my money down
Times gettin tougher than tough
Times gettin rougher than rough
Well I make alot of money
I just keep spendin the stuff
(instrumental)
Oh well the politicans say
Get the people on their feet
They wanna cut the price
And let the people eat
Times gettin tougher than tough
The times gettin rougher than rough
But I make alot of money
Just keep spendin the stuff
Well I cant afford to live
I guess Ill have to try
Undertakers got a union
And it cost too much to die
Times gettin tougher than tough
Well times gettin rougher than rough
Well I make alot of money
Just keep spendin the stuff
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Give and Free It Up On The Rough Stuff
When I was hard,
It wasn't enough.
The sensitive and warm nice guy,
I had to give with no hint of the tough stuff.
I was the one who supplied the tenderness,
With touches.
Supplied I did the sweet kisses too!
You want it tough and rough and ready,
Through the weekends.
And all week until we get through too!
The sensitive and warm nice guy,
I had to be with no hint of the tough stuff.
You want it tough and rough and ready,
Through the weekends.
And all week until we get through too!
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
Free it up to give it up!
That rough stuff.
Free it up to give it up!
That rough stuff.
Free it up to give it up!
That rough stuff.
That rough stuff.
That rough stuff.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
I was the one who supplied the tenderness,
With touches.
Supplied I did sweet kisses too!
You want it tough and rough and ready,
Through the weekends.
And all week until we get through too!
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sing, Song, Swing
Choppity chop chop, chop chopsticks
Choppity chop chop, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his sing song swing
Charlie ching
Make his sing song swing
With a tingaling
On the ding dong ding
With a tingaling on the ding dong ding
Makee plenty sing song swing
Choppity chop chop, chop chopsticks
Choppity chop chop, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his sing song swing
Foo yung foo
Makee doodle-doo
With a toot or two
On the flute bamboo
And the doodle-doo and the tingaling
Makee plenty sing song swing
Choppity chop chop, chop chopsticks
Choppity chop chop, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his sing song swing
{instrumental interlude}
{scat}
And a tingaling on the ding dong ding
Makee plenty sing song swing
Chop chop choppity, chop chopsticks
Chop chop choppity, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his sing song swing
Choppa choppa choppity, chop chopsticks
Choppity choppity, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his swing
song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chop, Chop, Chop
Some people call me the Creeper
'Cuz they don't know my name or face
I got 'em running in circles
Because a homicidal genius never leaves a trace
I'm a lonely hunter
City full of game
Walkin' in the neon lights
Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's a symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop
Some people call me the Ripper
Stole my modus operandi from the movie screen
She's just a celluloid stripper
Just another bloody player in my splatter-filled dream
Women on the streets
Want money when we meet
I take them for a little ride
Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop
She was standing on the corner
With her bright red lips
Her face was so white and pale (so pale)
She had a black leather skirt
That was tight to her hips
And an anklet with a name
It spelled M A R Y..... Gail
Gail Gail Gail Gail
Gail Gail Gail Gail
song performed by Alice Cooper
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Axeman
High on the hills, where the tall trees grow,
There lives an axeman that 1 know.
From his little hut by a ferny creek,
Day after day, week after week,
He goes each morn with his shining axe,
Trudging along by the forest tracks;
And he chops and he chops till the daylight goes
High on the hills, where the blue-gum grows.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
There's a log to move and a branch to lop.
Now to the felling! His sharp axe bites
Into a tree on the forest heights,
And scarce for a breath does the axeman stop-
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Bell-birds watch him; and in the fern
Wallabies listen awhile, and turn
Back through the bracken, and off they hop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . -. Chop!)
Patient and tireless, blow on blow
The axeman swings as the minutes go;
While the echoes ring from the mountain-top.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Round about him the. rabbits play,
Skipping and scampering all the day,
And the sweet young grass by the logs they crop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Crimson parrots above him climb,
The Axeman
Chattering, chattering all the time,
As down from the branches the twigs they drop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! Chop!)
Steadily, surely, on he goes,
Shaking the tree with his mighty blows:
There's never a pause and there's never a stop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Out from the bush beyond is heard
The swaggering song of the butcher-bird
Seeking a joint for his butcher's shop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Deeper and deeper the cut creeps in,
While the parrots shriek with a deafening din,
And the chips fly out with a flip and a flop.
(Chip! Chop! Chip! Chop!)
Yellow robins come flocking round,
Watching the chips as they fall to ground,
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Pork Chops are Fun
chop chop chop the pork squeals over dinner
with it's fatty bits and tasty bites
it marinates on a stick over hot coal
who will taste it first who will finish the bowl
Wow Pork Chops with red wine
then dinner will be divine
chop chop chop the pork is done
with ginger, wine and lots of fun
it's time to have with a salty bun
chop chop chop see it go in the oven my friends
it's dinner time lets eat it all
then lets sit together and have a ball
chop chop chop the pork tastes good
with the meat so tender it bloody weel should
sometimes on the pan sometimes as a roast
call your freinds for dinner it's a dish one can boast
chop chop chop the pork is done
sprikle a little wine to make things bright
then the meat put it on light
watch it burn and tremble with delight
chop chop chop my pork chops are done
poem by Anuj Tikku
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Dont Bust My Chops
Im sick and tired of you calling me names Im sick and tired of your childish games
Im sick and tired of your bullshit brats cocaine stupor and anxiety attacks
Picked up the magazine, I see your face youre nothin boy, a goddamn waste
With the lamest fashions on your back youre never happy, a hypochondriac
Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops
Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops yeah
Youre a styling queen and an alley cat too many chocolates keep a fat man fat
Youre a pain in the ass, and your on the loose all I get from you is your bad attitude
Dirty mouth, its all I can bear get outta here bitch, cause youre nowhere
Always wearin that cheap perfume can always tell when youre in the room
Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops
Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops ah
Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops
Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops
Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops
Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops alright
song performed by Ramones
Added by Lucian Velea
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Choppin' Wood
(Van Morrison)
You wired the trains and went back home to St. Claire's shores
Before you became a spark down at the yard
You were passing through those hungry years alone
You were just trying to make a living out in Detroit
When you came back off the boats you didn't want to go anywhere
You sit down to TV in your favourite chair
You watch the big picture fade away down at Harland and Wolff
But you still kept on choppin' wood
And you came back home to Belfast
So you could be with us like
You lived your life of quiet desperation on the side
Going to the shipyard in the morning on your bike
Well the spark was gone but you carried on
You always did the best you could
You sent for us once but everything fell through
But you still kept on choppin' wood choppin' wood
Well you came back home to Belfast
So you could be with us like
And you lived a life of quiet desperation on the side
Going to the shipyard in the morning on your bike
WeIl the spark was gone but you carried on
Well you did just the best that you could
You sent for us one time but everything fell through
But you still kept on choppin' wood
Kept on choppin'wood
Kept on choppin' wood
Local man chops wood
You know you did the best you could
Well everything just fell through
Kept on choppin' wood
Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,
Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,
Chop, chop, chop, keep on choppin'
Chop, chop, chop, choppin' wood
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Poke Chop Sandwich
(about lightnin hopkins drummer who used to keep a porkchop sandwich on his floor tom, for snacking during the breaks. recorded with hopkins drummer, spider, present in the studio.)
Poke
Better watch that
Poke chop sandwichwaitin in th? sack
Ridin a tom tom, a double fat back
Got my poke chop sandwich? /p>
Layin on da drum
Poke chop greazyIm gonna get some
Get some a? dat poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Yeah yeah twenty five
Louisiana back beat and th? texas bop
Do a hollywood shuffle jes? cant top it
New york turn around and
Th? london stomp
African good luck combination
I know that ya want
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Double poke chop sandwich
Play on
Spider & lightnin hopkins got
Th? big bad beat
Aint no question what they gonna eat
Spider wanna a bottle,
Lightnin? wanna a can
Theyll take in a bucket
cause they dam well can
A poke chop
A poke at dat chop
Cut dat poke chope
Poke chop sandwich
Feel like, I feel like a poke chop sandwich
Give me dat sandwich in wax paper
Pork chop sandwich
song performed by ZZ Top
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rot Stuff
Sittin' here eatin' my heart out waitin'
Waitin' for this funeral to end
Dug up about a thousand graves lately
My tastes are what some might call
A little more then just off the wall
Lookin' for some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
I want some rot stuff baby this evenin'
Gotta have some rot stuff
Gotta have your corpse tonight
Rot stuff
I need rot stuff
I want some rot stuff
Lookin' for a lover who's 6 feet under
Don' t want another night on my own
Wanna share my fetish with a cold blooded lover
Wanna bring a dead man back home
Gotta have some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
I want some rot stuff baby this evenin'
Gotta have something cold
Gotta have something rotting under me tonight
I need rot stuff
Cold rot
Lookin' for cold rot
Rot, rot, rot, rot stuff
Rot, rot, rot
Rot, rot, rot, rot stuff
Rot, rot, rot
How's about some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
Gimme a little rot stuff this evenin'
Rot stuff baby
Gonna need your corpse tonight
Rot stuff
I need something cold and rotting
Lookin' for some rot stuff
Wanna make love to a dead man tonight
Sittin' here eatin' my heart out
No more listening to this funeral march can I do
Won't waste another night or moment on my own
I've dug up about a hundred graves baby
I'm bound to find somebody as horny as I am tonight
[...] Read more
poem by Ramona Thompson
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Virginia's Story
Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.
She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.
When she was old enough she got married.
First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.
Agnes was my mother.
Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.
Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.
Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.
Anna was a maid and cook.
She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth
They were both good cooks
They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.
My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.
She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.
[...] Read more
poem by Talile Ali
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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IV. Tertium Quid
True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Video Crime
Aint got room for charity
Skeletons man
Me, Im crawling with no cash
Chop it up
Me, Im looking for hot flesh
Chop it up
This skeletons mine
Chop it up
Chop it up
Blood on video-video crime
Video crime
Needles and pins and video crime
Video crime
Ive got dollars-Ive got sense
Wonder where the third world went
Aint got time for honeymoon
Chop it up
Trash time bundy, death row chic
Chop it up
Haunt this street from half past ten
Chop it up
Blood on video-video crime
Video crime
Needles and pins and video crime
Video crime
Late night cannibal-cripples decay
Just cant tear my eyes away
Aint got no room for charity
This skeletons mine
Aint got room for hollywood
Chop it up
Me, Im crawling with no cash
Chop it up
Blood on video-video crime
Video crime
Needles and pins and video crime
Video crime
Ive got dollars Ive got sense
Wonder where the third world went
Video crime
Chop it up
Video crime
Chop it up
Video crime
Chop it up
Video crime
Chop it up
Video crime
Chop it up
song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits
Fit the First.
THE LANDING
"Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.
"Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
That alone should encourage the crew.
Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:
What I tell you three times is true."
The crew was complete: it included a Boots—
A maker of Bonnets and Hoods—
A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes—
And a Broker, to value their goods.
A Billiard-marker, whose skill was immense,
Might perhaps have won more than his share—
But a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,
Had the whole of their cash in his care.
There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,
Or would sit making lace in the bow:
And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck,
Though none of the sailors knew how.
There was one who was famed for the number of things
He forgot when he entered the ship:
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
And the clothes he had bought for the trip.
He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.
The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pairs of boots—but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.
He would answer to "Hi!" or to any loud cry,
Such as "Fry me!" or "Fritter my wig!"
To "What-you-may-call-um!" or "What-was-his-name!"
But especially "Thing-um-a-jig!"
While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,
He had different names from these:
[...] Read more
poem by Lewis Carroll (1876)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Hunting of the Snark
Fit the First
THE LANDING
'Just the place for a Snark!' the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.
'Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
That alone should encourage the crew.
Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:
What i tell you three times is true.'
The crew was complete: it included a Boots--
A maker of Bonnets and Hoods--
A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes--
And a Broker, to value their goods.
A Billiard-maker, whose skill was immense,
Might perhaps have won more than his share--
But a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,
Had the whole of their cash in his care.
There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,
Or would sit making lace in the bow:
And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck,
Though none of the sailors knew how.
There was one who was famed for the number of things
He forgot when he entered the ship:
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
And the clothes he had bought for the trip.
He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.
The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pairs of boots--but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.
He would answer to 'Hi!' or to any loud cry,
Such as 'Fry me!' or 'Fritter my wig!'
To 'What-you-may-call-um!' or 'What-was-his-name!'
But especially 'Thing-um-a-jig!'
While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,
He had different names from these:
[...] Read more
poem by Lewis Carroll
Added by Poetry Lover
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Luv Your Stuff
(myles goodwyn)
Published by mfg sing sing music/socan - ascap
Everytime I get restless, I see my hand knockin on your door
And everytime Im in a fix baby, I start actin like I need you more
Well Ive been lookin for someone to talk to
And Ive been searchin for a better way
And Ive been runnin all over town, girl
Ive been lookin each and every way, yeah
But you got somethin special
And Im bein on the level with you
You got that thing that moves me, yeah
(great stuff, luv your stuff), mmm, I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff), at five oclock in the morning
(great stuff, luv your stuff), still cant get enough
(great stuff, luv your stuff)
Livin like a fool in flames
You know that I been usin you, girl
And Im the one to blame
But babe, I got my cupboards all stocked and ready
What you get girl, is what you see
And youve been lookin inside my head now
And you got your arms wrapped around me, mmm
I got no thing for our candy
Its your lovin girl, that gets me down
You got that thing that moves me, yeah
(great stuff, luv your stuff), ooh, I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff), send the bill in the morning
(great stuff, luv your stuff), I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff), get busy
I got no sense of reason, I know I gotta make a deal
Its all comin down to somethin baby, its tellin me I got to get real, huh
I got my senses in a tuft, Im all mixed up, my temperatures starting to rise
And I cant seem to stay away from you, girl, I think its more than we realized, yeah
Wont you look what its doin
Its your lovin girl, that gets me down
You got that thing that moves me, yeah
(great stuff, luv your stuff), ooh, I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff), Ill pay the price in the morning
(great stuff, luv your stuff), ooh, I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff)
song performed by April Wine
Added by Lucian Velea
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When The Moneys Gone
When the moneys gone
When the moneys gone, will you be my friend
Float a small row boat, till the ship comes in
When the winter nights, chills us to the soul
Will you feed the fire, spin the straw to gold
When the moneys gone
When the moneys gone, will you get cold feet
Will you still be there, if the ends dont meet
If were in the red, just forget the green
Take a bus with me, no more limousines
When the moneys gone
Will you still love me
Oh what a fine life, I give to you
All you ever want
Will you still be there, will you pull me through
When the cash dont come
And if youre mine
Will you still love me
Whenever we fall
When the moneys gone
Chorus
Oh you will want me baby
Oh believe me baby
Oh you will love me baby
When the moneys gone
No more caviar
Will you eat fast food in a beat up car
Live life modestly, lost in lotto dreams
Will you find your way
Through it all with me
Through it all with me
Will you still love me
Oh what a fine life I give to you
All it ever was
Will you still be there
Will you pull me through
When the cash dont come
Will you still love me
Whenever we fall
When the moneys gone
Chorus
Oh will you want me baby
Oh believe me baby
Oh will you love me baby
When the moneys gone
And a mile off the shore
Flies a bird wholl land no more
So you always will pull me forever more
Oh what a fine life I give to you
All it ever was
[...] Read more
song performed by Cher
Added by Lucian Velea
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Moneys Too Tight To Mention
I been laid off from work my rent is due
My kids all need brand new shoes
So I went to the bank to see what they could do
They said son looks like bad luck got a hold on you
Moneys too tight to mention
I cant get an unemployment extension
Moneys too tight to mention
I went to my brother to see what he could do
He said brother Id like to help but Im unable to
So called on my father, father
Almighty father, he said
Moneys too tight to mention
Oh money money money money
Moneys too tight to mention
I cant even qualify for my pension
Were talking bout reaganomics
Oh lord down in the congress
Theyre passing all kinds of bills
From up there on capitol hill, weve tried it
Moneys too tight to mention
Oh money money money money
Moneys too tight to mention
Cutbacks!
Were talking bout the dollar bill
And that old man whos over the hill
Now what are we all to do
When moneys got a hold on you
Moneys too tight etc.
Were talking bout money money
Were talking bout money money
song performed by Simply Red
Added by Lucian Velea
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Skeletons
Skeletons in your closet
Itchin to come outside
Messin with your conscience
In a way your face cant hide
Oh things are gettin real funky
Down at the old corral
And its not the skunks that are stinkin
Its the stinkin lies you tell
What did your mama tell you about lies
She said it wasnt polite to tell a white one
What did your daddy tell you about lies
He said one white one turns into a black one
So, its gettin ready to blow
Its gettin ready to show
Somebody shot off at the mouth and
Were gettin ready to know
Its gettin ready to drop
Its gettin ready to shock
Somebody done turned up the heater
Ana its gettin ready to pop
Crevices in your pantry
Now what do we have in here
Havin a daytime nightmare
Has always been your biggest fear
Oh things are gettin real crucial
Up the old wazoo
Yet you cry, why am I the victim?
When the culprits y-o-u
What did your mama tell you about lies
She said it wasnt polite to tell a white one
What did your daddy tell you about lies
He said one white one turns into a black one
So, its gettin ready to blow
Its gettin ready to show
Somebody shot off at the mouth and
Were gettin ready to know
Its gettin ready to drop
Its gettin ready to shock
Somebody done turned up the heater
Ana its gettin ready to pop
Its gettin ready to seep
Youre gettin ready to freak
Somebody done picked up the talk box
Were gettin ready to speak
Its gettin ready to jive
Youre gettin ready to gel
Somebody done gone let the lid off
Were gettin ready to smell
Theyre gettin ready to deal
Youre gettin ready to ill
[...] Read more
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Its Not About The Money
Seems like everybody's got a price
I wonder how they sleep at night
When the sale comes first and the truth
comes second
Just stop for a minute and smile
Why is everybody so serious?
Acting so damn mysterious
You got your shades on your eyes and your
heels so high
That you can't even have a good time
Everybody look to their left
Everybody look to their right
Can you feel that? Yeah
We'll pay them with love tonight
It's not about the money, money, money
We don't need your money, money, money
We just wanna make the world dance
Forget about the price tag
Ain't about the cha-ching, cha-ching
Ain't about the ba-bling, ba-bling
Wanna make the world dance
Forget about the price tag
We need to take it back in time
When music made us all unite
And it wasn't low blows and video hoes
Am I the only one gettin' tired?
Why is everybody so obsessed?
Money can't buy us happiness
Can we all slow down and enjoy right now
Guarantee we'll be feelin' alright
Everybody look to their left
Everybody look to their right
Can you feel that? Yeah
We'll pay them with love tonight
It's not about the money, money, money
We don't need your money, money, money
We just wanna make the world dance
Forget about the price tag
Ain't about the cha-ching, cha-ching
Ain't about the ba-bling, ba-bling
Wanna make the world dance
Forget about the price tag
Yeah, yeah, well, keep the price tag and
take the cash back
Just give me six strings and a half stack
And you can keep the cars, leave me the
garage
And all I, yes, all I need are keys and
guitars
And guess what, in 30 seconds I'm leaving
[...] Read more
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
Added by Poetry Lover
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