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Juan Ramon Jimenez

If you get a ruled paper, write on the back.

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If You Get Your Way - Profit In Peace B-side

She is home
Tellin shes the one
Who makes you well
She makes you feel okay
She is home
Tellin shes the one
Who makes you go
And sends you on your way
But shes getting something
You start to feel
She blows the faster deal (? )
She is there
Making up the face
To hide the scar
You wont lurk beneath it
She is there
Shes got more than anyone
And so Ive always thought she must deserve it
And if you get your way
I may blow the faster deal (? )
Everyone
Hopes say I the one(? ? ? )
I wish you well
I hope you feel okay
(repeat)
And if you get your way
Feel the way youre feeling
(x3)

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In The Middle Of The Night

Nice man george, newsagent on the corner,
Not very rich, but never any poorer,
Jaunty old george, a happy sixty-three,
Not very tall, but healthier than me.
He whistles timeless tunes as he saunters down the street,
Springs in his legs and elastic in his feet.
But in the middle of the night,
He steals through your garden,
Gives your hosiery a fright,
And doesnt say pardon.
As soft as a breeze,
With an arm full of underwear,
On his hands and knees,
Dreams about the knicker scare.
Hello there george, newsagent on the corner,
Hows the old car, yes the climates getting warmer,
Chatty old george as you get your morning paper,
Read about the knicker thief, underwear taker.
Bids you good day, as you wander out the door,
Never closes early, always cleans the floor.
But when darkness hits the town,
And theres washing on your line,
Get your knickers down,
Before the dreaded sign.
When the clock strikes eight,
And youre snuggled up in bed,
Hell be at the garden gate,
Filling underwear with dread.
Nice man george, newsagent on the corner,
He was closed today, maybe gone to mow the lawn,
I had to go further down the road to get me current bun,
Hello - isnt that george on page one ?
No it couldnt be, but yes it is,
Difficult to see from these photofits.
But they are after him,
Of that you can be sure,
Theyve called him on the phone,
Theyve knocked on his door.
A-but hes gone away,
Gone to stay with some mates,
He got the papers early,
And saw his own face.

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Tongue Bath

Yeah, (ohhh), we got the hood rats in the house right
(Would you like a tongue bath babe)
They say they like tongue bath (from the back)
So, uh, we went and got Methron
But of course, it's the Ying-Yang Twins
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
Anyway you want it, I'm with it
I just wanna get up in it
(You want a tongue bath, you need a tongue bath)
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
A tongue bath, from the back
Oh yes, that's the way I like it
(You want a tongue bath, you need a tongue bath)
Forget about that Summer we stretched straight thuggin it up
In the tongue bath world we was loving it up
I've been told by the eye we were holding each other
To the room, sexual, of the Isley Brothers
Sippin' Alazez and Hennessee, straight thug passion
Licking nipples, got you gigglin', so you started to laugh
And now it's getting so erotic baby
All of a sudden so I'm kissing on your body baby
Admit it babb
See baby a tongue bath is what I like
Lick me up, lick me down, curve my appetite
Let me open up my legs, show me what you got
The way you licking on my body's got me really hot
And I'm loving the way you lick me though
Do it little daddy, let your tongue take control
You got me shaking like hell when you're licking my toes
From the top to the bottom, make your tongue roll
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
Anyway you want it, I'm with it
I just wanna get up in it
(You want a tongue bath, you need a tongue bath)
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
A tongue bath, from the back
Oh yes, that'

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If I Could Just Get It On Paper

If I could just get it on paper
By: jimmy buffett
1981
For william faulkner
If I could just get it on paper
The things that have happened tonight
That seems to me to be the big key
Im havin too good a time to ever turn
Out the lights
Go to bed wake up with a clear head
Recallin what made it a ball
Yes if I could just get it on paper
I might make some sense of it all
If I could tell half of the stories
The funny way most things begin
Figure ways to disguise all the half-truths and lies
Find the heart of my song with the point of a pen
Simple words can become clever phrases
And chapters could turn into books
Yes if I could just get it on paper
But its harder than it ever looks
(instrumental)
All alone on the edge of the water
Hidin out by the sea of cortez
With my sketch pads and flairs
Tapes and battery spares
Its just no comprehendo to what everyone says
Time alone seemed to work well for faulkner
Time away seems to work for the kid
Life and ink they run out at the same time
Or so said my old friend the squid
Yes if I could just get it on paper tonight
I could tell you what I think I did

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Patrick White

I Don't Care If You Remember Me Or Not

I don't care if you remember me or not.
I'm not going anywhere. I'll still be here.
But I'm going to disappear soon enough
and you can have the mirror all to yourself.
I can't imagine dying alone is any deeper
than this solitude I've been living on my own.
Take that chisel of a tongue and chip
my cartouche off that gravestone I'm not under yet
as if you just discovered a new talent
for pecking away at death as if you were married to it.

I'm out of here. This is my grand exit. Like Keats
I make it with an awkward bow, the way the deer do
when they come down to the river to drink.
I don't make it in anger. I'm not judging a mirage
because it doesn't slake my thirst for real water.
I'm not bitter, vicious, or proud. I see myself
in you, especially when you're crying without
a knife in your hand you wield like a paper cut
of the last crescent of the moon. It makes me sad
that we live more separately than we ever will in death.
I can remember when you first took my breath away,
and now, if you want to give it back, that's ok,
that's ok, too, as my brother would say, listening
like an amputee to the one-handed applause of the Buddha.

There are gaps, there are voids and abysses,
there are neuronic synapses, godheads, bardo states
and black holes we all have to bridge sooner or later.
Love's one of them. Death's another. And life's
a country road with so many potholes it's shell-shocked.
You can efface my name from your memorial wall
but I'm sure I'll turn you into poetry somewhere
along the way. I'm thawing into tears
like an Arctic ice cap faster than I should
but I'll hold you in my cold, cold heart forever
like a dolmen without snow nobody knows the name of.

More wonderful things get said in the doorways
of farewell through the veils of our motiveless tears
than you're ever going to hear on the thresholds of hello
when everyone mythically inflates their uncontested lies
in the name of love. It's not much of a triumph
to ride in a golden chariot of the sun through a slum.
It's a little vehicle, and come the first serious eclipse,
you're on black ice on a highway late at night on your own,
however many corpses you've sand-bagged in the rear
to give it some weight. Kitty litter and ashes
for traction are better than rose-petals and thorns
strewn along your path. You get a better grip on things
as you're turning your wheels into the direction of your spin
or somersaulting over your handle bars like a cow
that jumped over the moon. As for me. The moonrise
raises a spoonful of ashes to my lips and I try
to take my medicine like a solitary nightbird
sipping from the fountain of a dark muse
like a lunar fish in the watershed of a total eclipse.

I'll never wish you ill. And I'll try really hard
never to dispel your delusions of me as someone
you might have been able to love. Sorry about the discrepancy.
Mirages on a sundial. Lighthouses on the moon.
Sharks and shipwrecks. Shouldn't our dreams and delusions,
our secret nightmares, be accorded the same
ontological dignity as any other God particle
in the transmorphic context of reality? They move
the world as much as mass or gravity and they're
as counterintuitively absolute and constant
as the speed of light. Everyone's trying to write
their own unified field theory to explain everything
all at once to themselves, as if they were whispering
seas of rising awareness into their own ear.

I've lived too long under this cloak of the mystery
I bear as best I can like a mantle of starmud
in the name of a thousand poets who bore it
in their turn to suffer the solitude of their revelry
like the calyx of a black hole in the center of a galaxy
consuming two hundred billion stars in a single gulp
to stay drunk enough for light years to learn
to breathe in the light before they're willing to let it go.
To kiss the bud of the wildflower into the open
and step back into the light like a shadow at noon
and watch it grow without you. Noblesse oblige.
And I don't mean it cynically. The wolf howls.
The dog barks. The road leads like a trail of blood
to a dark grove of trees where everything heals by itself
and death is a retroactive edition of a posthumous future
that lies up ahead like road kill. Like it or not.

Sooner or later every persistent absurdity is interred
in an aura of grace, as if we gave the dead
the benefit of the doubt we begrudge the living.
That said. Still hard to kiss the stinging nettles
like hooded cobras on the head spitting in your eyes
like the Taliban just as you're learning to read
the writing on the wall. So the blind prophets
learn to love the dark. So the candle that's burning
to shed some light on the night and the stars
goes out in a gust of breath like a secret chandlier
on the dark side of death. And what are we left with
that might remotely stick it out with us
in search of a treasure chest that isn't
just another bone box of sacred relics? I used to think
scars from the stars that enlightened us
like Medusas of white phosphorus that bit
like high frequency wavelengths in a snake pit
the moon was agitating like ripples and scales
on the skin of a mirror we thought we'd shed
relationships ago. But now my youth has outgrown me
I go well out of my way to err on the side of compassion
more than I ever longed to know the truth
of what we're all doing here together
trying to stay true to the circuitous path we're on
by getting lost in each other's eyes and arms.

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If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.

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You Get What Everyone Gets

You get what everyone gets
If they respect each other

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You Get What You Give

You get what you give
If you give respect
To others
You will get respect
From others

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The Older You Get The More You Look Like Oatmeal

bronze body turns to oatmeal over time,
you'll see what I mean, unless you go blind,
why, who knows, it's just part of the wheel,
the older you get, the more you look like oatmeal.

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What U See (Is What You Get)

You used to say that I was special
Everything was right
But now you think I'm wearing too much make-up
That my dress is too tight
You got no reasons to be jealous
I've never been untrue
So does it really matter if they're looking
I'm only looking at you
You should never try to change me
I can be nobody else
And I like the way I am

[CHORUS:]
What you see is what you get
This is me

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When you get lonely(written on April 15,2009)

When you get lonely
Look up at the sky
And watch as the clouds
Slowly pass by

When you get lonely
Get all the bad thoughts off your mind
And try not to forget
That I think you're one of a kind

When you get lonely
Ill always be there
To love you and hold you
And to show you that I care

When you get lonely
Remember that i love you
So look up at the clouds
And know this...
i'm watching them too

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What You Get Is a Pinch to Feel

I'm here to bite not to lick.
Or to soothe blemished egos.
I'm not one to sit and kiss a bruise.
Nor spread honey,
On an attacking wolfe's lips.

What you get is a pinch to feel.
I will not keep things deluded,
For your appeal.

I wish to keep things real.
It makes life more appreciated.
And to leave the deceit of thieves...
To plot their misdeeds,
Upon minds fantasized about 'their' realities!

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You get angry

You get angry
thats what death does
A light
A warmth on my face
The breeze through my hair
I smell the trees

You get angry
thats what death does
A heartbeat
A silent scream
Sinking
A coldness creeps in
Shadows dance in your eyes

You get angry
thats what death does
Not a death of the flesh
A death of the heart
The funeral of love
The welcoming of silence

Where you used to whisper...
I love you

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You Get Me High

Lets have another joint on me
Lets get as gone as we can be
And well float around the ceiling
Cause baby you get me high
Lets have a six pack of beer
Sit and watch the walls disappear
And well laugh and talk for hours
Oh baby you get me high
Lets smoke a pack of cigarettes
Hey how bout a menthol?
You havent had one of those yet
Yeah well laugh, and cough for hours
Oh baby you get me high
Yeah baby you get me high
Oh baby you get me high

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What Message Do You Get From That?

If I do not like you...
You can not insist,
To enforce yourself upon me!
And I am not trying to play hard to get!
If I have had plastic surgery to change my looks,
What message do you get from that?
I am not:
'Experimenting with your desires! '
As you put it!
Or...
Being two faced with my affections!
I just don't like you!
I wanted to at one time.
But you made that not a possibility.
You are more vain than I am.
And I can't have that!

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How Did You Get Yourself Bruised Up Like That?

Do you see that brick wall,
And the solidness of it?
I want you to hit your head up against it!
Kick it and use your fists.
And when you have grown tired of doing that,
You can then ask me any question you wish!

'Why should I do that to myself...
When I carry a ladder!
They are sitting in a pile,
Right around the corner! '

Oh!
I didn't see it!
Where did you say they were?
Those ladders?

'How did you get yourself bruised up like that? '

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Thats What You Get

The moonlight dances on her face
I got my lips ? ? ? ?
Im living the life of a lie
It was for me, for me that she died
Thats what you get for loving me (repeated 4 times)
? ? ? ? [whole line unintelligible]
True love, unhappiness
I fall down on my knees and I cry
Its my way of saying goodbye
Thats what you get for loving me (repeated 5 times)
The moonlight is ? ? on the ? ? ?
As I ? ? ? (into my? ) head
And i, Im gonna cry
Its my way of saying goodbye
Thats what you get for loving me (repeat to fade)

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How'd You Get So Rich

If you want to ask me
How'd you get so rich?
I'll tell you the story,
the following of which...
I once was a lost sinner
and condemned to hell
But Jesus saved my soul
and now I've a story to tell
Im saved, Im saved,
Jesus ransomed my soul
He gave me eternal riches
and life so abundant and full
Jesus ransomed my soul
with His own shed blood
forgave me of my sin
and pulled me out of the mire and mud
He gave to me an inheritance
that can never be taken away
I'll live with him eternally
and walk on streets of gold someday

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Damn, You Get To Me

(carly simon)
Hey, when I say things that bother you
Dont be a stubborn man
Dont leave me in the cold
Remember who I am
Damn, you get to me
When I cant get to you,
No fair, youre silent and youre hurt
And all I want to do
Is know what Ive done wrong
All I want to know is what to do
Damn, you get to me
When I cant get to you
Theres too much long distance
In our love
And tonight I need you
Dont run away, please let me know
How Ive hurt you
Hey, its me, see Im the lucky one
Youve opened up my heart
You led me by the hand
You took me slow so I would understand
Damn, you got to me
Let me get to you

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How Did You Get Here?

The good news?
We are not that close to the bottom,
As expected.
The bad news?
We are not that close to the bottom,
As expected.

'So...
Where are we?
And why is that both good and bad news? '

Not knowing where you are can be motivating.
Forgetting who you are and how you got there,
Is total darkness.
That's where ignorance will leave you,
In total darkness!

'So...
What does that have to do with anything? '

Turn off your flashlight!

'I will be in darkness.'

How did you get here?

'I followed you! '

And you believed I knew what I was doing?
With loss of light and without eye contact?

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