I could never hold a job for more than three months, which works out well because that's how long a movie shoots.
quote by Dennis Quaid
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Related quotes
The mother and the artist
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Hold Your Position (Stones)
Now here comes the great musical thing called "hold your position"
Rasta, them style ya a just levelment Uncle seen
Hold me position, Just a hold me position
I ya, hold me position, just a hold me position
Go on, hold me position, just a hold me position
Just like Jesus Christ in the valley of decision
Devil come along and tru to deceive man through him
Got him plan from the older one
Him had to hold him position, had to hold him position yeh
Hold him position, had to hold him position
Well rhythm like this makes me and me daughter
Go down at the dance, bubble on the corner
When the rhythm is sweet, we a go hold tighter
Rub-adub like this makes you go one
So you hold your position
Say you hold you position aya
Hold your position, say hold your position
Things and time was a getting slow let off the rhythm
Let the good time roll
Don't bother go a slow and stay a back row
I man come to make the rhythm
Just a rock and flow, because me hold me position
Just a hold me position
Special request to 39 Acker Tree, Frontline, everyman on Kime
UB40 say come and rhyme
Yes, Daddy Stone, me in the dance hall style
So we really come to make it versatile
Because one of a kind we come to blow your mind
So you should hold you position
Yes, hold your position, aya
Hold your position, hold your position
Hold Your Position (cont'd) Stones
Skank steady, Skank Steady
I tell you rock the rhythm
You should skank down steady
You know you say, it heavier than lead
Kinda tougher than tough
You know that Jah, Jah covers
Since he stands over us
So hold your position
Hold your position
Move to the east, and you could a move to the west
Lyrics like this Jab know never go jest
Say chunk ice water say right to your chest
Intercity, outer city everywhere the best you better
Hold you position, just hold your position
Hold you position, say hold your position
Well rhythm like this is really so hot
Let off the vilse because a legal shot
Because we hold our position
[...] Read more
song performed by Ub40
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eternal Creation
The Parent’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to the child; but to irrefutably ensure that the infant was nourished with their breath and blood till the time it could unflinchingly fend for its symbiotic survival; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created them for,
The Sun’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to light; but to irrefutably ensure that the rays optimistically enlightened even the most infinitesimally lugubrious cranny of remorsefully cloistered earth; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Rose’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fragrance; but to irrefutably ensure that the majestic resplendence ebulliently blossomed into the lives of countless haplessly beleaguered and bereaved; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Peak’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to victory; but to irrefutably ensure that the royal triumph peerlessly massacred even the most ethereal iota of devilishness form this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
Nature’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to newness; but to irrefutably ensure that the evolution metamorphosed every bit of egregiously stagnating ghoulishness into a sky of rhapsodic freshness; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Cloud’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to rain; but to irrefutably ensure that the water stupendously ignited vivaciously iridescent life in every ingredient of hopelessly dying soil; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Conscience’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to truth; but to irrefutably ensure that the righteousness insuperably conquered every trace of diabolical lies on earth and the atmosphere; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Ocean’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to salt; but to irrefutably ensure that the tanginess wonderfully illuminated every treacherously spiceles and deliriously lackadaisical moment of life; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Poet’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fantasy; but to irrefutably ensure that the dream spellbindingly impregnates the winds of Omnipotent romance into monotonously monstrous robots; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,
The Lip’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to smiles; but to irrefutably ensure that the happiness altruistically perpetually perpetuates into every dwelling incarcerated in chains of murderous gloom; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Rainbow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to vividness; but to irrefutably ensure that the color timelessly enshrouded every gruesomely befriended orphan; miserably deteriorating on the globe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Shadow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to tranquility; but to irrefutably ensure that the peacefulness granted celestial reprieve to every bizarrely estranged soul squandering on this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The philanthropist’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to unity; but to irrefutably ensure that the oneness miraculously coalesced every spuriously staggering and cold-bloodedly fighting caste; creed and tribe into the unassailable religion of humanity; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,
The wind’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to freedom; but to irrefutably ensure that the liberation unequivocally freed every element of torturously enslaved earth till times immemorial; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
The night’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to sensuality; but to irrefutably ensure that the passion brilliantly transformed every speck of infertility into the chapters of everlastingly Omniscient procreation; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
The eyelash’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to flirtation; but to irrefutably ensure that the mischief serenely catapulted every fretfully frenetic organism into realms of impeccable childhood; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
The soldiers job just doesn’t end at giving birth to martyrdom; but to irrefutably ensure that the valor to timelessly serve the mothersoil; throbbed fearlessly in every chest; even centuries after his veritable death; was what the Almighty Creator had created him for,
The breath’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to life; but to irrefutably ensure that the exultation inexhaustibly transcended over; even the most inane anecdote of baseless corruption and demeaning death; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
And the heart’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to Love; but to irrefutably ensure that the compassionate togetherness tirelessly bonded the entire planet into a paradise of Omnipresently unshakable strength; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for…
©copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. All rights reserved.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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She Works Hard For The Money
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
Onetta there in the corner stand
and wonders where she is and
it's strange to her
some people seem to have everything
Nine a.m. on the hour hand
and she's waiting for the bell
and she's looking real pretty
just wait for her clientele
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
Twenty five years have
come and gone
and she' seen a lot of tears
of the ones who come in
they really seem to need her there
It's a sacrifice working day to day
for little money just tips for pay
But it's worth it all
just to hear them say that they care
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
She already knows
she's seen her bad times
she already knows
these are the good times
[...] Read more
song performed by Donna Summer from The Donna Summer Anthology
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dead End Job
Words and music by The Police
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't no time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I want to do is play
Don't wanna be no teacher
I don't wanna be no slave
I don't wanna work no assembly line
A' like my uncle Dave
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't got time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I wanna do is play
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
All I wanna do is play
I just ain't got time to stay
But I ain't gonna run away
Don't wanna be no millionaire
Don't wanna own no mint
I don't wanna be no tax exile
And I don't mind being skint
The queue gets longer every day
I just ain't got time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I wanna do is play
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't no time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I want to do is play
Don't wanna be no millionaire
[...] Read more
song performed by Police
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paradise Lost: Book 03
Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven firstborn,
Or of the Eternal coeternal beam
May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light,
And never but in unapproached light
Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee
Bright effluence of bright essence increate.
Or hear"st thou rather pure ethereal stream,
Whose fountain who shall tell? before the sun,
Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice
Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest ***
The rising world of waters dark and deep,
Won from the void and formless infinite.
Thee I re-visit now with bolder wing,
Escap'd the Stygian pool, though long detain'd
In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight
Through utter and through middle darkness borne,
With other notes than to the Orphean lyre
I sung of Chaos and eternal Night;
Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down
The dark descent, and up to re-ascend,
Though hard and rare: Thee I revisit safe,
And feel thy sovran vital lamp; but thou
Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs,
Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more
Cease I to wander, where the Muses haunt,
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,
Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief
Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath,
That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow,
Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget
So were I equall'd with them in renown,
Thy sovran command, that Man should find grace;
Blind Thamyris, and blind Maeonides,
And Tiresias, and Phineus, prophets old:
Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move
Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird
Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid
Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year
Seasons return; but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair
Presented with a universal blank
Of nature's works to me expung'd and ras'd,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
[...] Read more
poem by John Milton
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III. The Other Half-Rome
Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!
There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Hold Me Back
(young - young)
I got a big fat cadillac built for you
I got a honk thatll blow the avenue
Got a hot dog kickin all bend my thing
Got a a sugar looking woman with a bald headed man
Give me five o here boy, thats what Ill do
Got a big fat momma who can hold a tune
Gotta slip that bone in hard and mean
A honky tonk woman get the best of me
Cant hold me back
Cant hold me back
Cant hold me back
Get a heart attack
Cant hold me back
Got a honky tonk big ball hit to thrill
I got a sugar boot money baby thatll kill
A honky tonk 15 golden mile
Gotta bald headed woman loaded in the town
You can get me to the ball man, drivin in
And dont balk the kill, call in the ville
You gotta map the wrong town, hit the road
You got the whole boppa movin on down the road
Cant hold me back
You cant hold me back
You cant hold me back
You get a heart attack
Cant hold me back
You cant hold me back
You cant hold me back
You cant hold me back
You get a heart attack
Cant hold me back
You cant hold me back, you cant hold me back
You cant hold me back, you cant hold me back
Cant hold me back, you cant hold me back
You cant hold me back, you get a heart attack
Cant hold me back (hold me back)
You cant hold me back (hold me back)
You cant hold me back (hold me back)
Cant hold me back (hold me back)
You cant hold me back (hold me back)
Cant hold me back (hold me back)
You cant hold me back (hold me back)
You cant hold me back
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mother Dawn
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn
Mother dawn
Dancing round the fire
Circling the flame
Listen to the shadows calling out my name
They say
Rock me like a baby
Cradle me in the light
Bathe me in a rainbow
Sun restore my sight
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn (all night long yeah)
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me (all night long yeah)
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn
Look into the light
Come and take a journey through the land of night
Darkness strokes the face and
Steals away the sight
Night is all around me
Stars are in my hair
I feel them tangled in the secrets well
Find hidden there all right
Reaching through the madness
To the other side
Where the sun is rising
With her arms held wide
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn (all night long yeah)
(till the dawn light comes)
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me (all night long yeah)
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn (all night long)
(I know youre gonna love me)
(I know youre gonna love me)
One star flew against the tapestry of the night
And the earth revolved in perfect symmetry
To a symphony of sun
The moon danced its final bow
As the birth of day
Exploded
[...] Read more
song performed by Billy Idol
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Four Seasons : Spring
Come, gentle Spring! ethereal Mildness! come,
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.
O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts
With unaffected grace, or walk the plain
With innocence and meditation join'd
In soft assemblage, listen to my song,
Which thy own Season paints; when Nature all
Is blooming and benevolent, like thee.
And see where surly Winter passes off,
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts:
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill,
The shatter'd forest, and the ravaged vale;
While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch,
Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost,
The mountains lift their green heads to the sky.
As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd,
And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze,
Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets
Deform the day delightless: so that scarce
The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulf'd,
To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath,
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste
At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun,
And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more
The expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold
But, full of life and vivifying soul,
Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads then thin,
Fleecy, and white, o'er all-surrounding heaven.
Forth fly the tepid airs: and unconfined,
Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays.
Joyous, the impatient husbandman perceives
Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers
Drives from their stalls, to where the well used plough
Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost.
There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke
They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil,
Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark.
Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share
The master leans, removes the obstructing clay,
Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe
While through the neighbouring fields the sowe stalks,
With measured step, and liberal throws the grain
Into the faithful bosom of the ground;
The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene.
Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious Man
Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow!
Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend!
[...] Read more
poem by James Thomson
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Hold Back
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Now when we started - no interventions
I wanted everything with no conditions
You took my love and told it to the world
But now it really changes things
The ring you wear belongs to someone else
Somebody else and my heart keeps saying
Hold back - hold back your love
Baby its just a crazy thing to start
Hold back - hold back your love
Maybe its just the easy way to part
Hold back - hold back (hold back, hold back...)
No denials - no introspection
Im not competing for some true perfection
I wanted something thats fine and thats for sure
And now I wonder how she feels
cos in her heart she knows theres someone else
Somebody else and I hear her saying
Hold back - hold back your love
Baby its just a crazy thing to start
Hold back - hold back your love
Maybe its just the easy way to part
Hold back - hold back
Hold back (hold back)
Hold back your love
Hold back (hold back)
Hold back your love
(baby...) hold back (hold back)
Hold back your love
Baby its just a crazy thing to start
Baby its just a crazy thing
You gotta hold back - hold back your love
(hold back) - hold back your love
(hold back) - you gotta hold back your love
(ooh) you gotta hold back your love
(ooh) hold back your love
Hold back (hold back)
(ooh)
(ooh)
Hold back
(ad lib to fade)
song performed by Kim Wilde
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Task: Book VI. -- The Winter Walk at Noon
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds;
And as the mind is pitch’d the ear is pleased
With melting airs, or martial, brisk, or grave:
Some chord in unison with what we hear
Is touch’d within us, and the heart replies.
How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at intervals upon the ear
In cadence sweet, now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Memory slept. Wherever I have heard
A kindred melody, the scene recurs,
And with it all its pleasures and its pains.
Such comprehensive views the spirit takes,
That in a few short moments I retrace
(As in a map the voyager his course)
The windings of my way through many years.
Short as in retrospect the journey seems,
It seem’d not always short; the rugged path,
And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn,
Moved many a sigh at its disheartening length.
Yet, feeling present evils, while the past
Faintly impress the mind, or not at all,
How readily we wish time spent revoked,
That we might try the ground again, where once
(Through inexperience, as we now perceive)
We miss’d that happiness we might have found!
Some friend is gone, perhaps his son’s best friend,
A father, whose authority, in show
When most severe, and mustering all its force,
Was but the graver countenance of love:
Whose favour, like the clouds of spring, might lower,
And utter now and then an awful voice,
But had a blessing in its darkest frown,
Threatening at once and nourishing the plant.
We loved, but not enough, the gentle hand
That rear’d us. At a thoughtless age, allured
By every gilded folly, we renounced
His sheltering side, and wilfully forewent
That converse, which we now in vain regret.
How gladly would the man recall to life
The boy’s neglected sire! a mother too,
That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still,
Might he demand them at the gates of death.
Sorrow has, since they went, subdued and tamed
The playful humour; he could now endure
(Himself grown sober in the vale of tears)
And feel a parent’s presence no restraint.
But not to understand a treasure’s worth
[...] Read more
poem by William Cowper
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Tale XXI
The Learned Boy
An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and
hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Idea Track
Dear Hugh Miller
Ive thought it through for a while but it doesnt get any easier
And three months on in this bad design wont make it feel any easier
Your grave, its your grave
Dear Hugh Miller
Its four months now from when we started and nothing feels much easier.
I sit and stare in a cork tiled room and it doesnt get much easier.
Your grave, its your grave
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (you dont try)
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (dont try)
Dear Hugh Miller,
its four months now from when we started and nothing feels much easier.
I sit and stare in a cork tiled room and it doesnt get much easier.
Your grave, its your grave
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (you dont try)
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (dont try)
Your grave, its your grave
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (you dont try)
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (dont try)
I dont care if I dont have an idea track, its an idea track, its an idea
I dont care if I dont have an idea track, its an idea track, its an idea
Your grave, its your grave.
song performed by Idlewild
Added by Lucian Velea
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Allegany Camp
amazing grace circus camp
amazing grace day camp
amazing grace hallelujah jeremy camp
amazing grace jeremy camp
amazing love jeremy camp
amazing place chalet pigeon forge
amazing race church camp
amazing race games for camps
amazing race girl scout camp
amazon camp dutch lodge oven
amazon camp in sweetwater missouri
amazon cast iron dutch lodge camp
amazon dutch oven camp
amazon lodge dutch oven camp
ambassador camp at lake waccamaw nc
ambassador camp inc
ambassador chalet
ambassador chalet at doral
ambassador chalet wgc
amber bowers
amber camp lazlo
amber pow camp
amberg germany dp camp
ambition camp hockey pro
ambler baseball camp
ambleside scotland school camp
ambon pow camp
ambor island pow camp
ambor pow camp
ambulance bower
amc camp dodge
amc camp movie summer
amc camp summer theater
amc little lyford camps
amc movie camp
amc movie camps
amc north west camp bear mountain
amc pinkham notch camp
amc summer camp for s
amc summer camp for s 2007
amc summer camp movies
amc summer movie camp
amc summer movie camp 2007
amc summer movie camp 2008
amc summer movie camp arlington
amc summer movie camp ontario california
amc theater camp hill
amc theatres summer camp
amcmovie camps
amelia earhart in japanese war camp
[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Hold On
Written by: myles goodwyn
Why do I speak if no one hears
Who can I turn to if youre not there
And why do I carry on the way that I do
Why do I question myself like this over you
cos trouble and sorrow - its all I can feel
Theres so much confusion it seems so unreal
Hold on - to our own selves be true
Hold on hold on
Hold on - lets see this love through
Hold on hold on
Why do we have to act so foolishly
Hurting one another - you and me
All we have to do is try more now and then
And whos to say that we cant make things right again
Heartaches and sorrow its bringin us down
Theres so much to give lets turn this love around
Hold on - to our own selves be true
Hold on hold on
Hold on - lets see this love through
Hold on hold on
Hold on just hold on to me
Hold on hold on
Hold on you know our love will be
Hold on
I dont wanna hear that loving you is wrong
I only know these words will have to make us strong
Its the things we say but more the things we do
And what I wanna say is baby I love you
Heartaches and sorrow its bringin us down
Theres so much to give lets turn this love around
Hold on - to our own selves be true
Hold on hold on
Hold on - lets see this love through
Hold on hold on
Hold on just hold on to me
Hold on hold on
Hold on you know our love will be
Hold on hold on
Hold on
song performed by April Wine
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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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)
Introduction
In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.
Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.
Prologue
The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain
mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact
that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals
becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,
who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight
in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.
Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Silent Movie
(corky laing/ian hunter)
Well the school bell rings
I carried your things
Getting on the yellow bus
With the whole world watching us
And our love was like a silent movie
Aint got nothing to say
Our love was like a silent movie
I wish we could have kept it that way
Now the door bell rings
Im gonna get my things
Take another bright (? )
At the lions side
Cause our love was like a silent movie
Aint got nothing to say
Our love was like a silent movie
Thats the all-american way
Silent movie
And our love was like a silent movie
Theres nothing to say
Our love was like a silent movie
And thats the all-american way
And our love was like a silent movie
Theres nothing to say
Our love was like a silent movie
I wish we could have kept it that way
Our love was like a silent movie
Silent movie
Our love was like a silent movie
I wish we could have kept it that way
song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mans Job
Well you can go out with him
Play with all of his toys
But takin care of you darlin
Aint for one of the boys
Oh theres somethin in your soul
That hes gonna rob
And lovin you baby lovin you darlin
Lovin you woman is a mans mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Well now his kisses may thrill
Those other girls that he likes
But when it comes to treatin
A real woman right
Well of all of his tricks
No they wont be enough
cause lovin you baby lovin you woman
Lovin you darlin is a mans mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Youre dancin with him hes holding you tight
Im standing here waitin to catch your eye
Your hands on his neck as the music sways
All my illusions slip away
Repeat riff from intro twice
Now if youre lookin for a hero
Someone to save the day
Well darlin my feet
Theyre made of clay
But Ive got something in my soul
And I wanna give it up
But gettin up the nerve
Gettin up the nerve
Gettin up the nerve is a mans mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Lovin yous a mans job woman
Lovin yous a mans job
song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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