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Sam Waterston

The bad guys don't always get punished and the good guys are not necessarily pure.

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All The Good Ones Are Gone

(dean dillon/bob mcdill)
(track 2 - time 3:16)
Shell turn thirty-four this weekend
Shell go out with her girlfriends
Theyll drink some margaritas, cut up and carry on
Therell be guys and therell be come ons
Shell probably get hit on
But she thinks all the good ones are gone
Shes got friends down at the office
And she cant help but notice
That when the day is over
How they all hurry home
Every day theres guys she works with
And even some she flirts with
But it seems like all the good ones are gone
And her mama called this mornin
Said Im worried about my baby
I wish you had a family of your own
She said mom its not that easy
You make it sound so simple
But you cant take the first man that comes along
Once she had someone who loved her
Back when she was younger
Now she wonders if she held out
A little bit too long
Back then there were so many
Now there just arent any
It seems like all the good ones are gone
And her mama called this mornin
Said Im worried about my baby
I wish you had a family of your own
She said mom its not that easy
You make it sound so simple
But you cant take the first man that comes along
Shell turn thirty-four this weekend
Shell go out with her girlfriends
Theyll drink some margaritas, cut up and carry on

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The Good Times Are Killing Me

The good times are killing me.
Here we go!
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.

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There Are The Poems That Are Not The Real Poems

There are the poems that are not the real poems,
And the poems that are-
And the poems that are seem to come out of their own saying
With a rhythm and a meaning which makes a music so deep,
Even the most lonely soul feels them as a singing inside.

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All The Good Ones Are Gone

How many times have I heard it said,
especially by ladies out there.
They see someone with happiness
and wish they had a share
in all the happiness and fun.
When you ask them why
they dont have someone,
they turn, frown, and simply say
all the good ones are gone.
This view isn’t only with the ladies,
I know a lot men who
will say the same sort of thing too,
that all the good ones are gone.

3 February 2008

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All Of The Good Ones Are Taken

(ian hunter)
Girl-things aint been goin too good for me
Girl-Im living in the middle of a mystery
Youre the only one that can turn me on
n now that youre gone I said
Girl-Im livin in the middle of your memory
Girl-youre still the figure in my favorite fantasy
I know you know
Thats the way it goes
And still my love grows-i said
All o the good, all o the good ones are taken
All o the good, all o the good ones are taken
Im hangin around with my head in the air
Watchin the lovers go by
I had a lover-but she never cared
All you could say was goodbye
Maybe I was mistaken
Maybe I got it wrong
But all of the good ones are taken from now on
n girl-Im livin in the middle of a broken dream
I said girl-all this fallin in love aint like it seems
Out in the rain-cant you feel my pain
Again n again n again n again n again
All of the good, all o the good ones are taken
Maybe I was mistaken-maybe I got it wrong
But all of the good ones are taken in my song

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All The Good Ones Are Taken (Part One)

(ian hunter)
Girl-things ain't been goin' too good for me
Girl-i'm living in the middle of a mystery
You're the only one that can turn me on
'n' now that you're gone i said
Girl-i'm livin' in the middle of your memory
Girl-you're still the figure in my favorite fantasy
I know you know
That's the way it goes
And still my love grows-i said
All o' the good, all o' the good ones are taken
All o' the good, all o' the good ones are taken
I'm hangin' around with my head in the air
Watchin' the lovers go by
I had a lover-but she never cared
All you could say was goodbye
Maybe i was mistaken
Maybe i got it wrong
But all of the good ones are taken from now on
'n' girl-i'm livin' in the middle of a broken dream
I said girl-all this fallin' in love ain't like it seems
Out in the rain-can't you feel my pain
Again 'n' again 'n' again 'n' again 'n' again
All of the good, all o' the good ones are taken
Maybe i was mistaken-maybe i got it wrong
But all of the good ones are taken in my song

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The bad guys are not typical; they are not just bad, they are interesting. They might be good or bad.

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Kept Secret From An Ugliness Unknown

The good ones
Are not often depicted,
To be the kind
You'd find,
Using a bathroom in their homes.

The bad ones
Are always those perceived,
In need of the good ones
To lead with their assistance,
On the right path.

The good ones
Are always spoken of as being nice and liked
With voices sweet and appealing.

The bad ones
Are rumored to be heartless,
Ruthless and crazed
By the good ones.
And nasty tempered people.
Who curse and treat them mean
For no apparent reason,
The good ones say.
Left them amazed

The good ones
Lie and cheat.
With the twisting of truths,
To those they initially meet

And those made to look bad
Who are victims of character assassinations,
To use by the good ones
For purposes to discreetly deceive others,
With their hidden agendas
Kept secret from an ugliness unknown,
But to the 'bad' ones shown.

The bad ones know of this.
And have already experienced,
Being victimized by this wickedness.
And come forward to speak of it.

'You would never believe what happened to me! '

~Really?
You're one of the bad ones.
Right? ~

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The Way They Are!

love people the way they are, not the way
you want them to be.... only then can you
become what you need to be.... human!

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The good breed hardly dies.

With advent of democracy and literacy,
Went in decline the Brahmin authority.
Yet, the rest submit to their purity and nobility.
The well reared are not the well bred.
08.10.2000

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Angry

So scream you, out from behind the bitter ache
Heavy on the memory, you need most
Still want love, ugly, smooth and delicate
Not without affection, not alone
And instead of wishing that it would get better
Man youre seeing that you just get angrier
And its good that Im not angry
I just need to get over
Im not angry, anymore
Cry when you cry, run when you run
Love when you love
Represent the ashes
That you leave behind
And instead of wishing that the road had shoulder
Man youre seeing that youre sinking over time
And its good that Im not angry
I just need to get over
Im not angry
Its dragging me under
Im not angry
Im not angry its never been enough
It gets inside and it tears you up
Im not angry but Ive never been above it
You see through me dont you
And its good that Im not angry
I just need to get over
Im not angry
Its dragging me under
Im not angry
And its good that Im not angry
I just need to get over
Im not angry, anymore

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Senator Helms might very well do that. I would point out to him that we in the art world are not necessarily in the business of making controversial art.

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Panchajanyam Blown

One of those many times again now
To count your attendance to me
On some special issue as to how
All the good folks are not free
From so many kamsas here who row
Readily to dine merrily merrily
Over the innocents.Your herd of cow
Am i at your sacred feet.Your Mercy!
Time for you sharply to blow
Your Panchajanyam declaring not a fiery
War but an outbursted nectar to flow
To the other side of this heavy
Planet for the good people who sow
So much hope in you.In urgency!
Krishna! come along with 'Amruth'just now
To protect us.Pretend to be friendly
But in real hostile with kamsas to tow
Them dead to hell.'Done hastily,
Bespoken'-yes, your viewing eyes should show.

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The Sweet And The Bad

He said 'why do all the girls go for the bad boys? '

She said because they seem more exciting
than the nice sweet guys
and like a peacock,
the one that struts more
gets more attention
from all the women.

It is like they exude confidence
and that is reassuring.'

He said, but they are the ones
who treat the women bad,
break their hearts,
sleep around
and then leave behind
a bitter trail of angry girls
who hook up with nice sweet guys
who they then take that anger out on
and the sweet guys play the door mat
and take all that anger, hoping to get laid.
But when they don't
they get angry and meet up with that nice sweet girl
who thinks she likes bad boys,
(sweet guy is now angry guy, attracting sweet girl)
the sweet guy is now bad angry guy-
mistreats sweet girl and the cycle begins again.

Now if sweet girl meets sweet guy and they hook up
one maybe sooner or later begins to wonder if they missed
something with bad boy or bad girl.
And they stray. Now we have a new bad boy and a new bad girl
divorced and on the prowl for whom?

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The One That Got Away

You were the quiet one
Afraid to sleep alone
Heaven knows, I was lonely too
Some things in life a man
Can't learn to live without
One of those things was you
Who the good guys are
Who the bad guys are
Isn't always clear
In this world of separate houses
Someone's always missing someone
Day after day
And year after year
Though you and I are distant
Don't ever think I didn't want you
Or miss you every day
No matter where life takes you
Know that I'll still be waiting patiently
For the day that you've forgiven me
My son
The One That Got Away
It's all of the little things
That add up to a life
'N it's been so hard
Being outside looking in
You had hundreds of first times
I didn't get to see
That will never come again
How do we catch up
Is there just too much
Stolen history
In this world of separate houses
I want you to remember
That you'll always be
Inside of me
Though you and I are distant
Don't ever think I didn't want you
Or miss you every day
No matter where life takes you
Know that I'll still be waiting patiently
For the day that you've forgiven me
My son
The One That Got Away
You're carryin' an anger
that does not belong to you
'N I'm sick and tired of doin' time
For a crime I didn't do
I miss you every day
No matter where life takes you
Know that I'll still be waiting patiently
'Cause I do believe in you and me
And I trust that someday
You'll no longer be
The One That Got Away

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Patrick White

All The Good Reasons That Get In The Way Of Writing

All the good reasons that get in the way of writing,
baby needs new shoes, and you're conscientious and diligent,
will kill you faster than the bad ones
that brought you to the edge of your mindstream in the first place
to dip your skull like the cup of the moon
in the wellsprings of your own imagination
instead of always sipping spit from other men's mouths.

I'm not saying don't do what you must do
to be a decent human being, or as close as you can get,
but when you're creatively underwhelmed
by the rising Rockies of Circumstance
losing their footing like an avalanche of cornerstones
coming down on you like a barrage of asteroids,
you better find a mountain gear deep within yourself
to power you out of the way of your own collapsing mindscape.

Don't come to a reasonable truce with the ashen exigencies
of the underwhelming reality love married you to,
or pontificate like a hollow urn on the tragic absence
of even so much as an echo of yourself to make a comeback
or tell me you squandered it all like apple bloom
when everything I've read of what you haven't written
smells like smoke from a distant pyre on the wind.

Remember the fire. Even if you have to burn underground
through the occult roots of the cedars, or bury yourself
powdered in red ochre under the hearthstones
of your prophetic forebears erasing your picture-music
from the cave walls like graffiti under a bridge
between this world as it never is when you look too closely,
and the one that's working on you like spiritual water on limestone.
Remember the fire. Remember the discipline
of disobedience that tempted you to steal it in the first place
like a Spartan boy with a hot fox, as it
eats you from the outside in without you saying a word
lest you get caught ratting your deepest secret out in agony.
Or regenerative Prometheus chained to a rock like a salamander
born in the fire of his own afterbirth. Know this.
Lightning doesn't strike the roosters of fire
that crow like weathervanes pinned
like a medal from an old campaign to the axis of the wind
as if the dawn were some kind of triumph over the night.

Cradle that fire in your hands like a bird that's fallen to earth,
or a lamp of holy oil in a niche of unanswered longings,
a candle in a hurricane of boarded up windows,
the light of your own mind, casting shadows of time
like a sundial with a wilder imagination
than its usefulness might at first glance suggest.

Nor will it do to catch a falling star and put it in your pocket,
or pour gold down your throat like the Parthians did Crassus
and expect to shine like a lighthouse in a diamond mine
with the voice of an oracular canary in a cage.
You've got to live inexhaustibly
what you're going to write about first
if you want to burn down the Library of Alexandria
in a gamma ray burst of creative annihilation
because you can only master as much life
as you've surrendered to like a heretic at the stake
or a pine cone germinating the seeds of enlightenment
like a zen hermit in a forest fire. Don't take
all the beautiful green swords flaming like wild irises
whose beauty you fall upon like an honourable death
and abuse them like the palings of a gate or a fence around paradise.

Even if you've only got a firefly of talent
left in the caldera of an extinct volcano,
a spark in the firepit of a burnt out dragon,
a smouldering ember from last night's fire in the stove
on a cold morning when the windows are blazing with ice,
you must be crazy and wise enough oxymoronically
to be the benign tyrant of your own Golden Age
like Pericles of Athens, with a politically incorrect
lover for a muse you look upon like the Parthenon
as if she were a phase of the moon. Even if
you love the swaying silver of the wind
over the heavy-grained harvest breaking water
like a bell under a redundant blue moon,
don't shrink from threshing it if you want to
share it like bread with people as hungry as you are
to eat the heart of the king of the waxing year,
like Wodin made a sacrifice of himself to himself,
or life thrives on itself like a soccer team
that crashed landed on a mountaintop,
or the cosmic eggs of turtles feeds a manger of seagulls,
and the grass eats the grazer, and the grazer eats the grass.
Or if you're too sensitive to compassionately take life
in order to give it, sharpen the edge of your golden sickle
on the whetstone of the moon, and express your mercy
as Muhammad suggested, with a quick kill
you can hold love responsible for like a spiritual alibi
if you've got genius enough to heal it like a inspired liar.

You have to be part salmon. A battering ram
swimming upstream against the flow of circumstance
like the gate of a water castle you're besieging
to lay your blunted sword down in tribute
among the sacred pools of life that gave it to you
at the beginning of your song, like fire from their eyes
to wage a holy war of one on their behalf
you're doomed to lose like a conflict that progresses
from one defeat to the next against ever stronger adversaries,
angels in the way, shaitans obstructing the path for your own good,
who realize, too late, with every encounter,
you're growing stronger than the best reasons
could have anticipated strategically.

Be a good apple tree, lyrically seasoned and epically strong
as Lao Tzu and the Druid aptly described you
like the sacred syllable in the heartwood of the letter Q,
and express yourself completely without intending
the betterment of anything, though all do,
from wasps and birds to bears and humans
with the beauty of your blossoms, the wisdom of your leaves,
and the generosity of the sacrifice that laid you out
like a windfall of dice enshrining the eyes that can see
like seeds in the sibylline books of the apple
the risk they'll need to take tomorrow like a fire swallower
of the sun and the moon to keep their planets shining
from the inside out in the Goldilocks zone
of a light that's been sweetened immanentally
by a dangerously habitable life holding up
a lantern in the dark that disappointment, defeat and struggle
could no more put out than a volunteer fire brigade of waterclocks
for the best of reasons could put out the stars in an arsonist's heart.

Set the world afire like a flame that writes on the wind,
poppies flaring uncontrollably across your field of vision.
Burn like a two-eyed passion for everything
you can see and be on the earth that consumes you
in the equinoctial fires of your vernal immolations,
not a magnifying glass that intensifies the sun into
the capricious focus of an idle boy on a cruel afternoon
shepherding ants like prophetic semi-colons into a furnace.

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I Always Get What I Want

Every now and then we all want something
Even if there's no way of gettin' it
If i stomp my feet could that make me
Be the way around it
Could I get myself around it
Get me what I want
Everything I don't got
So give me what I want
Cause I'm a big shot
Don't wanna always have to be so nice
Don't wanna hear you say well that's just life
I'm drying out when I open my mouth
I make my way around it
I always make my way around it
Get me what I want
Everything I don't got
Get me what I want
Cause I'm a big shot
So give me what I want
I always get what I want
You don't want to see me when
I don't get what I want
That's not what you want
I'm not about to take no for an answer
no
If I tell you I can't I'm still gonna go
I did it all by myself
I found my way around it
Get me what I want
Everything I don't got
Get me what I want
Cause I'm a big shot
So give me what I want
I always get what I want
You don't want to see me when
I don't get what I want
That's not what you want
It's not too lovely
It could start to get ugly
It really bugs me
If I don't get my way
Get me what I want
Everything I don't got
So give me what I want
Cause I'm a big shot
So give me what I want
I always get what I want
You don't want to see me when
I don't get what I want
That's not what you want
If I don't get what i want
That's not what you want

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I Don't Wanna Get Hurt

I don't need all my friends to tell me
things that I already know
like in the best of all worlds
you shouldn't forget self-control

Don't say I don't know what I'm doing
'cos he said "it's more than a feeling"
and I said "I need you too"
am I just a fool?

I don't wanna get hurt
I don't wanna get hurt
I'm not looking for just another heartache
I don't wanna get hurt
but I know it's a change I've got to take

I don't need all my friends to remind me
mistakes that I've already made
I just leave the past behind me
and go on believing that I'll be okay

Some thing are only human
and he said he'd always need me
and I said "I want you too"
am I just a fool?

I don't wanna get hurt
I don't wanna get hurt
I'm not looking for just another heartache
I don't wanna get hurt
but I know it's a chance I've got to take

Just another heartache

I don't need all my friends to tell me
things that I already know
like in the best of all worlds
you shouldn't forget self-control

Don't say I don't know what I'm doing
and he said "it's more than a feeling"
and I said "I need you too"
am I just a fool?

I don't wanna get hurt
I don't wanna get hurt
I'm not looking for just another heartache
I don't wanna get hurt
but I know it's a chance I've got to take

I don't wanna get hurt
I don't wanna get hurt
I'm not looking for just another heartache
I don't wanna get hurt
but I know it's a chance I've got to take

I don't wanna get hurt
I don't wanna get hurt
I'm not looking for just another heartache
I don't wanna get hurt

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Listen To Bad Guys When They Talk

Listen to bad guys when they talk
Especially when you see them for first time after long time Christmas Holidays
They said hello you baby girl, then they kiss or hug
Thereafter they scream so loud to ladies, but that the way they enjoy love
They do not ask you whether you need hug or not
Perhaps we call leave that for it a habit of all lovers
What about: asking you how your holidays was
What about not asking if your life is in good condition baby
But the good guys like me are not like those bad guys

I will not rush to kiss or even hug
I will hold your hand like a gold that I have dud so hard
I will ask how your Christmas time was baby
And then I ask if your health is in good condition baby

Baby, for I dont think love was meant for kiss, hugs or just to make you sweat baby
For there are many people outside still claim they are in love and they do so baby
Out of site out of mind …where was he during holiday time baby!
Or you may dont care about all of that ….Is that what both of think love is baby?
But for a starring man like me it not as easy as to charm you
My lady will not be treated like a substitute or Something for hug and kiss
Firstly I will ask if I ‘m smelling, wearing or appear good to you
Perhaps I will even ask you if we are in a good place, desirable to kiss, A Good place to touch and or make you sweat baby
Baby that what love meant for me and believe I mean everywhere
Oh baby love is trustworthy and noteworthy and something unique done by unique person to you.. and that me
These words are for all perfect lovers all around the word
Like a gold you deserve to be dug, paid a tribute and nourished the way you need
Don't let guys touch queens with rough hand and ill emotions of lies

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You Can't Always Get What You Want (feat. Hothouse Flowers)

I saw her today at the reception
A glass of wine in her hand
I knew she was gonna meet her connection
As at her feet was a footloose man
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes
You just might find
You'll get what you need
I went down to the demonstration
To get my fair share of abuse
Singing "we're gonna vent our frustrations"
"And if we don't we're gonna blow a 50-amp fuse"
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes
Well, you just might find
You'll get what you need
I went down to the Chelsea drugstore
To get your prescription filled
I was standing in line with Mister Jimmy
And man, did he look pretty ill
We decided that we would have a soda
My favorite flavor, was cherry red
I sung my song to Mister Jimmy
And he said one word to me, and that was "dead"
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
No no, you can't always get what you want
Oh, you can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes
You just might find
You'll get what you need
I saw her today at the reception
In her glass was a bleeding man
She was practiced at the art of deception
Well I could tell by her bloodstained hands
Oh, yes I could
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes
Yeah, you just might find
You'll get what you need
Oh sugar, you'll get what you need, yeah yeah yeah
You'll get what you need, yeah yeah yeah
You'll get what you need, yeah yeah yeah

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