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White Houses

Crashed on the floor when i moved in
This little bungalow with some strange new friends
Stayed up too late, and I'm too thin
We promise each other it's till the end
Now we're spinning empty bottles, it's the fives of us
With pretty-eyed boys girls die to trust
I can't resist the day oh no i can't resist the day
And Jenny screams out and it's no pose
'Cause when she dances she goes and goes
Beer through the nose on an inside joke
And I'm so excited I haven't spoken
And she's so pretty and she's so sure
Maybe I'm more clever than a girl like her
The summer's all in bloom
The summer's ending soon
It's all right
And it's nice not to be so alone
But I hold on to secrets in white houses
Maybe I'm a little bit over my head
I come undone at the things he said
He's so funny in his bright red shirt
we were all in love and we all got hurt
I sneak into his car's cracked leather seat
The smell of gasoline in the summer heat
Boy we're going way too fast
It's all too sweet to last...
It's alright and i put myself in his hands
but i hold on to secrets in White Houses
Love or something ignites in my veins
and i pray it never fades in white houses
My first time
Hard to explain
Rush of blood, oh
And a little bit of pain
On a cloudy day
It's more common than you think
He's my first mistake
Maybe you were all faster than me
We gave each other up so easily
These silly little wounds will never mend
I feel so far from where I've been
So I go and I will not be back here again
I'm gone as the day is fading on white houses
I lie, put my injuries all in the dust
In my heart is the 5 of us in white houses
And you, maybe you'll remember me
What I gave is yours to keep
In white houses
In white houses
In white houses.

song performed by Vanessa Carlton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jenny

Lazy laughing languid Jenny,
Fond of a kiss and fond of a guinea,
Whose head upon my knee to-night
Rests for a while, as if grown light
With all our dances and the sound
To which the wild tunes spun you round:
Fair Jenny mine, the thoughtless queen
Of kisses which the blush between
Could hardly make much daintier;
Whose eyes are as blue skies, whose hair
Is countless gold incomparable:
Fresh flower, scarce touched with signs that tell
Of Love's exuberant hotbed:—Nay,
Poor flower left torn since yesterday
Until to-morrow leave you bare;
Poor handful of bright spring-water
Flung in the whirlpool's shrieking face;
Poor shameful Jenny, full of grace
Thus with your head upon my knee;—
Whose person or whose purse may be
The lodestar of your reverie?
This room of yours, my Jenny, looks
A change from mine so full of books,
Whose serried ranks hold fast, forsooth,
So many captive hours of youth,—
The hours they thieve from day and night
To make one's cherished work come right,
And leave it wrong for all their theft,
Even as to-night my work was left:
Until I vowed that since my brain
And eyes of dancing seemed so fain,
My feet should have some dancing too:—
And thus it was I met with you.
Well, I suppose 'twas hard to part,
For here I am. And now, sweetheart,
You seem too tired to get to bed.
It was a careless life I led
When rooms like this were scarce so strange
Not long ago. What breeds the change,—
The many aims or the few years?
Because to-night it all appears
Something I do not know again.
The cloud's not danced out of my brain—
The cloud that made it turn and swim
While hour by hour the books grew dim.
Why, Jenny, as I watch you there,—
For all your wealth of loosened hair,
Your silk ungirdled and unlac'd
And warm sweets open to the waist,
All golden in the lamplight's gleam,—

[...] Read more

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Jenny Pazza

Jenny non vuol pi parlare
non vuol pi giocare
vorrebbe soltanto dormire
Jenny non vuol pi capire
sbadiglia soltanto
non vuol pi nemmeno mangiare.
Jenny stanca
Jenny vuole dormire
Jenny stanca
Jenny vuole dormire.
Jenny ha lasciato la gente
a guardarsi stupita
a cercar di capire che cosa
Jenny non sente pi niente
non sente le voci
che il vento le porta.
Jenny stanca
Jenny vuole dormire
Jenny stanca
Jenny vuole dormire.
Io che l'ho vista piangere di gioia e ridere
e pi di lei la vita credo mai nessuno am
io non vi credo lasciatela stare
voi non potete...
Jenny non pu pi restare
portatela via
rovina il morale alla gente
Jenny sta bene
lontano
la curano
forse
potr anche guarire un giorno.
Jenny pazza
c' chi dice anche questo
Jenny pazza
c' chi dice anche questo.
Jenny ha pagato per tutti
ha pagato per noi
che restiamo a guardarla ora
Jenny soltanto un ricordo
qualcosa di amaro
da spingere gi in fondo.
Jenny stanca
Jenny vuole dormire
Jenny stanca
Jenny vuole dormire
Jenny stanca
Jenny vuole dormire...

song performed by Vasco Rossi
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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Tommy's Dead

YOU may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead,
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys,
There's not a blade will grow, boys,
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.

Send the colt to fair, boys,
He's going blind, as I said,
My old eyes can't bear, boys,
To see him in the shed;
The cow's dry and spare, boys,
She's neither here nor there, boys,
I doubt she's badly bread;
Stop the mill to-morn, boys,
There'll be no more corn, boys,
Neither white nor red;
There's no sign of grass, boys,
You may sell the goat and the ass, boys,
The land's not what it was, boys,
And the beasts must be fed:
You may turn Peg away, boys,
You may pay off old Ned,
We've had a dull day, boys,
And Tommy's dead.

Move my chair on the floor, boys,
Let me turn my head:
She's standing there in the door, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Take her away from me, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Move me round in my place, boys,
Let me turn my head,
Take her away from me, boys,
As she lay on here death-bed,
The bones of her thin face, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed!
I don't know how it be, boys,
When all's done and said,
But I see her looking at me, boys,
Whenever I turn my head;
Out of the big oak tree, boys,
Out of the garden-bed,
And the lily as pale as she, boys,
And the rose that used to be red.

There's something not right, boys,

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Strange Things Happen

She believes in god
And karma too
Paranormal powers
You know some people do
Got scorpio risin
Uh huh
Tell you whats in your stars
She was down in rio
Turn the heads of state
Got em into makin
This planet a better place
On copacabana
Uh huh
Oh yeah she radiate better go meditate
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen
Strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Strange things happen
Oh ohhh ohhhh
Oh oh strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Met a pshycic reader
With a crystal ball
Had a vision
Said we could have it all
I caught her gazin
Uh huh
At our destiny cosmically
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen
Oh ohhh ohhhh
Oh oh strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Strange things happen
Oh ohhh ohhhh
Oh oh strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jenny Carrister, The Heroine of Lucknow-Mine

A heroic story I will unfold,
Concerning Jenny Carrister, a heroine bold,
Who lived in Australia, at a gold mine called Lucknow,
And Jenny was beloved by the the miners, somehow.

Jenny was the only daughter of the old lady who owned the mine-
And Jenny would come of an evening, like a gleam of sunshine,
And by the presence of her bright face and cheery voice,
She made the hearts of the unlucky diggers rejoice.

There was no pride about her, and day after day,
She walked with her young brother, who was always gay,
A beautiful boy he was, about thirteen years old,
And Jenny and her brother by the miners were greatly extolled.

Old Mrs Carrister was every inch a lady in her way,
Because she never pressed any of the miners that weren't able to pay
For the liberty of working the gold-field,
Which was thirty pounds per week for whatever it might yield.

It was in the early part of the year 1871,
That Jack Allingford, a miner, hit on a plan,
That in the mine, with powder, he'd loosen the granite-bound face,
So he selected, as he thought, a most suitable place.

And when all his arrangements had been made,
He was lowered down by a miner that felt a little afraid,
But most fortunately Jenny Carrister came up at the time,
Just as Jack Allingford was lowered into the mine.

Then she asked the man at the windlass if he'd had any luck,
But he picked up a piece of candle and then a match he struck;
Then Jenny asked the miner, What is that for?
And he replied to blast the mine, which I fear and abhor.

Then with a piece of rope he lowered the candle and matches into the mine,
While brave Jenny watched the action all the time;
And as the man continued to turn round the windlass handle,
Jenny asked him, Isn't it dangerous to lower the matches and candle?

Then the man replied, I hope there's no danger, Jenny, my lass,
But whatsoever God has ordained will come to pass;
And just as he said so the windlass handle swung round,
And struck him on the forehead, and he fell to the ground.

And when Jenny saw the blood streaming from the fallen man's head,
She rushed to the mouth of the shaft without any dread,
And Jenny called loudly, but received no reply,
So to her brother standing near by she heaved a deep sigh.

[...] Read more

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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I Know What Boys Like

Boys, boys
He you wanna know something?
Boys, boys
Boys like girls
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I seem them looking (looking)
I make them want me
I like to tease them
And they want to touch me
I never let them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like me
I got my cat moves
That so upsets them
Zippers and buttons
Fun to frustrate them
They get so angry
Like pouty children
Denied their candy
I laugh right at them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me
I think you're special
I might let you
You're so much different
I might let you
There's no one like you
I might let you
Or would you like that?
I might let you
Sucker!
Boys, b-b-boys
Boys, b-b-b-boys
G-g-g-g-got what boys want
G-g-g-got

[...] Read more

song performed by Vitamin C
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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Girls Get The Bass In The Back (feat. Bounty Killer) (Hey Baby Remix)

Hey baby, baby (4x)
All the boys say
Hey, hey... (2x)
All the boys say (3x)
Hey, hey... (2x)
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
I'm the kind of girl
That hangs with the guys
Like a fly in the wall
With my secret eyes
Taking it in
Try to be feminine
With my make-up bag
Watching all the sin
Misfit, I sit
Lit up, wicked
Everybody is surrounded by the girls
With the tank tops and the flirty words
I'm just sipping on chamomile
I'm watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in my face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back
I'm the one they feed upon
Give a bit a star is born
And if you have enough you'll get the pass
And you can tell your friends how you made it back
No matter what they say I'm still the same
Somehow everybody knows my name
And all the girls wanna get with the boys
And the boys really like it
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say

[...] Read more

song performed by No Doubt
Added by Lucian Velea
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Afrikaans: Sterregordels, Stilsonjare, Tydsbroekspypdinge, Haarsliert

Sterregordels

Cosmology in Afrikaans is an ode to joy, the
terms form sing-song strings with delightful
sounds “ewigbewegende elektron”
continuously spinning electron

“elektron in die hart van die atoomkorrel”
electron in the centre of the atom particle
- what a song!

“Triljoene Melkwegstelsels waaromheen ons
Melkweg elke tweehonderdmiljoenjaar
wentel – ‘n mallemeule van sterregordels…”

“Dobberende patrone, mesone en elektrone,
'n konfigurasie van konvekse novae”…

- these terms are singing to me!

A merry-go-round of star systems

Quotes from Adriaan Snyman “Die Messias Kode” (The Messiah Code) pp.9,10

Bombardement Van Frekwensies (English Explanation)

Waarmee sal ek hierdie leë oomblikke,
ankerloos, betekenisloos; aan die ewigheid
vasmaak - die gevoelsruimte in my hart

Is leeg, alle gevoel en denke het gesamentlik
in die donker duisternis van my brein ingeval
‘n laserbrein wat die hologramwêreld

Self moet konsituteer uit ‘n bombardement
van betekenislose frekwensies – maar
vandag is die ligstraalfokus uit

My pendulumgedagtes swaai ongefokus rond
die opgerolde, ingevoude ses-en-twintig of
meer dimensies van die virtuele werklikheid

Wil nie vir my oopgaan nie…

All thought and feeling fell into the black hole in my brain and the twenty-six or more rolled-up frequencies of reality does not want to open for me today…

Geloof In Liefde - Faith In Love

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Alice
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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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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Jenny Wore Black

Jenny wore black
Jenny wore white - white!
And jenny was real
But almost not quite
And jenny was here
She was almost inside
And jenny was real
But jenny was frightened by the way
We looked at her
And jenny could see
She was only a child
Jenny concealed all but her smile
And when she smiled we said hey hey!
Youll never see clear with tears in your face hey!
Youll never see clearly anyway
I said I loved you blindly, and I do
Were only two strangers in ways
We shall say
Jenny wore black
Jenny wore white, white!
And jenny was real but almost not quite (la la la la la la)
And jenny was here she was almost on time
And jenny was real
But jenny was frightened by the way
We looked at her
And jenny could see within us for a while
Jenny revealed all but her smile
And when she smiled we said hey hey!
Youll never see clear with tears in your face hey!
Youll never see clearly anyway
I said I loved you blindly, and I do
Were only two strangers in ways
We should say
You always caught my eyes where
The dreams peter in
And I cant remember
Wherever Ive been
Theres still holes for my eyes
Where the dreams peter through
All I can remember
Is when I was with you
We say hey hey!
Youll never see clear with tears in your face hey!
Youll never see clearly anyway
I said I loved you blindly, and I do
Were only two strangers in ways
We shall say

song performed by Men Without Hats
Added by Lucian Velea
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Head Is Spinning

(lowe/tennant)
----------------------
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning
My head is spinning

song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Boys & Girls

Educated with money
Hes well dressed not funny
And not to say in most conversations
But hell foot the bill in all situations
cause he pays for everything
Girls dont like boys, girls like cars and money
Boys will laugh at girls when theyre not funny
Paper or plastic,
Dont matter shell have it
Vacations and shopping sprees these are a few of her favorite things
Shell get what she wants if shes willing to please
His type of girl always comes with a fee
Hey now theres nothing for free
Girls dont like boys, girls like cars and money
Boys will laugh at girls when theyre not funny
And these girls like these boys, like these boys like these girls
The girls with the bodies like boys with ferraris
Girls dont like boys, girls like cars and money
Lets go!
Girls dont like boys, girls like cars and money
Boys will laugh at girls when theyre not funny
And these girls like these boys, like these boys like these girls
The girls with the bodies like boys with ferraris
Girls dont like boys, girls like cars and money
All of these boys, and get all of these girls
Are losing their souls in a material world
All of these boys, and get all of these girls
Are losing their souls in a material world
All of these boys, and get all of these girls
Are losing their souls in a material world
All of these boys, and get all of these girls
Are losing their souls in a material world

song performed by Good Charlotte
Added by Lucian Velea
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Girls & Boys

Educated
With money
He's well dressed
Not funny
And not much to say in
Most conversations
But he'll foot the bill in
All situations
Cause he pays for everything
Girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money
Boys will laugh at girls when they're not funny
Paper
Or plastic
Don't matter
She'll have it
Vacations
And shopping sprees
These are a few
Of her favorite things
She'll get what she wants
If she's willing to please
His type of girl
Always comes with a fee
Hey, now, there's nothing for free
Girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money
Boys will laugh at girls when they're not funny
And these girls like these boys
like these boys like these girls
The girls with the bodies like boys with Ferraris
Girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money
Let's go!
Eh, eh!
Girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money
Boys will laugh at girls when they're not funny
And these girls like these boys like these boys like these girls
The girls with the bodies like boys with Ferraris
Girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money
All of these boys, and all of these girls
Losing their souls in a material world
All of these boys, and all of these girls
Losing their souls in a material world
All of these boys, and all of these girls
Losing their souls in a material world
All of these boys, and all of these girls
Losing their souls in a material world

song performed by Good Charlotte
Added by Lucian Velea
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Slam

Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Well heres another one (what!)
In the gutter one (what!)
Getting running up
Troblesome extra double double I come to feed them
The feed em then I shreed em
So what if that Im cheating.
Now everyone wanna sound (ya) grimey (yeah)
Im gonna show you how come on (all and together now!)
Yeaah, ohh yeaah!
Yeah!
Thats how we gotta be
So stop trying to beat loud as me cause you cant do that
Think about the payoffer so left with an automatic rifle
For last against the lighting last bullets first
On line
Toughest step and a rep and a run rep and a run wreck and a swine
Peace to the brothers on rikers isle
Pumping up a tremple and didnt like his
Criminal lickin buck my eye,
Oh my God Im so high
Just they say a rodney say you like a criminum, what!?
Just they say to make get
Making milliangh, children slam! slam!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Im the mean nasty grease smashing ever slow gashing (ooohh)
Sticky swift blast of the basty
Of the basty basty bast bashing (aaahh)
Then I provide I provide the you was cheat.
Beside the getto five
Mak me feel like jekly and hyde of corse
I come across with no fear
For sure!
Un-adult-erated, un-conformed
Digusted, busted you wanna touch it.
To hot! you forgot, youre not ready
Youre head could get ruptered.
Hit between the eye
I planned the plan alive
Im the plonic sonic
Uh rule with the bads guys
The villian (juu), crooks (uuu), hot midas in confide us
See the big jerk put you look inside us,
My mind, its graphic, expresstic graphic
So kill the cop because its kept all mastic
Directin it, when yall least expected it

[...] Read more

song performed by Onyx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wild Eyed Southern Boys

Its a hot night at the juke joint
And the bands pumpin rhythm and blues
Gonna spill a little rock and roll blood tonight
Gonna make some front page news
And the ladies hate the violence
Still they never seem to look away
Cause they love those
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boys
Wild eyed southern boys
Its a southern point of honor
You got a get right in on the action
You can hear the outlaws holler
Fight for the lady in black
And she's just one in a million
But she's all I need tonight
Cause she loves those
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boys
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boys
Oohhh yeah
Wild eyed boys
A man of wealth and power
Is out on the dance hall floor
He got a champagne Eldorado parked outside the door
And he's looking for a honky tonk angel
But he don't stand a chance in hell
Cause he ain't no wild eyed southern boy
Wild eyed boy
Wild eyed southern boy
Wild eyed
Wild eyed southern boy
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boy
Wild eyed southern boy
Wild eyed boy
Wild eyed boy
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boys

song performed by 38 Special
Added by Lucian Velea
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