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You tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.

quote by Homer Simpson
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Hearts Filthy Lesson

Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Theres always the diamond friendly
Sitting in the laugh hotel
The hearts filthy lesson
With her hundred miles to hell
Oh, ramona, if there was only something between us
If there was only something between us
Other than our clothes
Something in our skies
Something in our skies
Something in our blood
Something in our skies
Paddy
Paddy, whos been wearing mirandas clothes?
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Falls upon deaf ears
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Falls upon deaf ears
Falls upon dead years
Oh ramona, if there was only some kind of future
Oh ramona, if there was only some kind of future
And these cerulean skies
Something in our skies
Something in our skies
Something in our blood
Something in our skies
Paddy, paddy?
Paddy will you carry me, I think Ive lost my way
Im already five years older Im already in my grave
Im already
Im already
Im already
Will you carry me?
Oh paddy, I think Ive lost my way
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Tell the others
Its the hearts filthy lesson
What a fantastic death abyss
Tell the others
Its the hearts filthy lesson

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eighth Book

ONE eve it happened when I sate alone,
Alone upon the terrace of my tower,
A book upon my knees, to counterfeit
The reading that I never read at all,
While Marian, in the garden down below,
Knelt by the fountain (I could just hear thrill
The drowsy silence of the exhausted day)
And peeled a new fig from that purple heap
In the grass beside her,–turning out the red
To feed her eager child, who sucked at it
With vehement lips across a gap of air
As he stood opposite, face and curls a-flame
With that last sun-ray, crying, 'give me, give,'
And stamping with imperious baby-feet,
(We're all born princes)–something startled me,–
The laugh of sad and innocent souls, that breaks
Abruptly, as if frightened at itself;
'Twas Marian laughed. I saw her glance above
In sudden shame that I should hear her laugh,
And straightway dropped my eyes upon my book,
And knew, the first time, 'twas Boccaccio's tales,
The Falcon's,–of the lover who for love
Destroyed the best that loved him. Some of us
Do it still, and then we sit and laugh no more.
Laugh you, sweet Marian! you've the right to laugh,
Since God himself is for you, and a child!
For me there's somewhat less,–and so, I sigh.

The heavens were making room to hold the night,
The sevenfold heavens unfolding all their gates
To let the stars out slowly (prophesied
In close-approaching advent, not discerned),
While still the cue-owls from the cypresses
Of the Poggio called and counted every pulse
Of the skyey palpitation. Gradually
The purple and transparent shadows slow
Had filled up the whole valley to the brim,
And flooded all the city, which you saw
As some drowned city in some enchanted sea,
Cut off from nature,–drawing you who gaze,
With passionate desire, to leap and plunge,
And find a sea-king with a voice of waves,
And treacherous soft eyes, and slippery locks
You cannot kiss but you shall bring away
Their salt upon your lips. The duomo-bell
Strikes ten, as if it struck ten fathoms down,
So deep; and fifty churches answer it
The same, with fifty various instances.
Some gaslights tremble along squares and streets
The Pitti's palace-front is drawn in fire:

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Jeane

Jeane
The low-life has lost its appeal
And i'm tired of walking these streets
To a room with its cupboards bare
Jeane
I'm not sure what happiness means
But i look in your eyes
And i know
Oh ...
That it isn't there
Oh, we tried, and we failed
Oh, we tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried
Oh, jeane
There's ice on the sink where we bathe
So how can you call this a home
When you know it's a grave ?
Yet you still have that greedy grace
As you tidy the place
But it will never be clean
Jeane
We tried and we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
And we tried
Oh ...
Cash on the nail
It's just a fairytale
Oh ...
And i don't believe in magic anymore
Jeane
But i think you know
I really think you know
Oh ...
Oh yes, i think you know the truth
Jeane
Oh ...
No heavenly choirs
Not for me and not for you
Because i think you know
I really think you know
Oh ...
I think you know the truth
Oh, jeane
We tried, and we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed

[...] Read more

song performed by Smiths
Added by Lucian Velea
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The City, the Solitude, the Soul

Every time
I try to fall in love with this city
I fail miserably.

Somewhere, perhaps
In a dirty corner,
In a nasty crevice,
In a squalid lane,
In the slush of drain
In some smoky street,
In some noisy cafes,
In the madness of tavern,
Above a haughty sky-scraper,
Down the corridors of power,
Under some dense cluster,
Under some muddy feet,
Is hiding its soul……..

There she writes,
About the historic aura
The grave of Omar Khayam,
About monsoon rains
Episoding the excruciating heat,
About peacocks and dance,
About bangles and romance,
About ruins, history, chance,
Poetry evoked by city,
Poetry! From filth, dirty,
An aimless roaming
In its airless streets,
The solitude in the sole
The soul in solitude,
In college, in university,
I try to fall in love with this city
I fail miserably.


I look at the elusive vehicles,
I look for soul,
I drink coffee with you,
I wish to drink from soul,
I listen to the grunt of donkeys,
I hobnob with the landlord,
I pay, I lodge,
Try to gather my peace,
I try to take it home,
Heart aches, heart says
‘Console it ably…….
The sole in solitude,
Try to fall in love with this city’

[...] Read more

poem by Feroz Rather
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Hard Lesson To Learn

I drifted into the notion
That you were looking for me
I told myself that devotion
Would flow from your heart to me
When I looked into your eyes
Still no reflection did I see
Of love light glowing within there
That I hoped there would be
And its a hard lesson to learn my friend
A hard lesson to learn
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
times you gonna get burned
I took a chance on emotion
Washing my heart out to see
A single wave on the ocean
You feel so distant from me
And theres a shadow dark upon your smile
A sadness living in your eyes
Storm clouds rolling in an outofdaught
Guess I been living alive
And its a hard lesson to learn my friend
Hard lesson to learn
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
And its a hard lesson to learn my friends
Hard lesson to learn
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
I drifted into the notion
That you were looking for me
I told myself that devotion
Would flow from your heart to me
But when I looked into your beautiful eyes
Still no reflection did I see
Of love light glowing within there
That I kind o hoped there would be
And its a hard lesson to learn my friends
Hard lesson to learn
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Yeah, yeah,yeah
Yeah, yeah oh

[...] Read more

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Lesson

1899-1902 -- Boer War

Let us admit it fairly, as a business people should,
We have had no end of a lesson: it will do us no end of good.

Not on a single issue, or in one direction or twain,
But conclusively, comprehensively, and several times and
again,

Were all our most holy illusions knocked higher than Gilde-
roy's kite.
We have had a jolly good lesson, and it serves us jolly well
right !

This was not bestowed us under the trees, nor yet in the shade
of a tent,
But swingingly, over eleven degrees of a bare brown conti-
nent.
From Lamberts to Delagoa Bay, and from Pietersburg to
Sutherland,
Fell the phenomenal lesson we learned-with a fullness ac-
corded no other land.

It was our fault, and our very great fault, and not the judg-
ment of Heaven.
We made an Army in our own image, on an island nine by
seven,
Which faithfully mirrored its makers' ideals, equipment, and
mental attitude--
And so we got our lesson: and we ought to accept it with
gratitude.

We have spent two hundred million pounds to prove the fact
once more,
That horses are quicker than men afoot, since two and two
make four;
And horses have four legs, and men have two legs, and two
into four goes twice,
And nothing over except our lesson--and very cheap at the
price.

For remember (this our children shall know: we are too near
for that knowledge)
Not our mere astonied camps, but Council and Creed and
College--
All the obese, unchallenged old things that stifle and overlie
us--
Have felt the effects of the lesson we got-an advantage no
money could by us!

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Natural miracles

I have never looked around for natural miracles
They are day and night in orbit or circles
Then rise and set without fail
I did not notice so far and miserably failed

How can and in which way I adore sun?
The sky is lit by him without stoppage of any run
Time and again I failed to bow my head
Never had I seen generosity on its part and failed to read

My existence is very much dependent
Still I failed to act as an obedient
How easily I forgot all warm days?
When sun had for many days failed on its way

I enjoyed greenery on earth
Yet failed to see joy beneath
After how much long wait, the shower had pleased
But where had I time to look at when not chased?

I had the life full of glooms
There was no direction and darkness in rooms
Where had I time to look for those shines outside?
When it was given to me hopefully to reside

If I was offered hurdles
There was chance to remove obstacles
Only I had to act and wait for his blessings
Otherwise where was chance anything to go missing?

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Giving And The Taking Was A Lesson Saved

You make my days...
More sunny in the night time.
That faith I gave,
Stayed.
When you said I would be yours.
And you'd be mine.

And everyday.
In every way...
We've been paid.

The price was high,
And we could have ran away.

But the giving and the taking was a lesson,
We saved.

You make my days...
More sunny in the night time.
That faith I gave,
Stayed.
When you said I would be yours.
And you'd be mine.

And everyday.
In every way...
We've been paid.

The price was high,
And we could have ran away.

But the giving and the taking was a lesson,
We saved.

And everyday.
In every way...
We've been paid.

The price was high,
And we could have ran away.

But the giving and the taking was a lesson,
We saved.

We now have no doubts.
We can work things out.
Because the giving and the taking was a lesson saved.
We now have no doubts.
We can work things out.
Because the giving and the taking was a lesson saved.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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On That Very Day

That very day

I died on that very day
When I turned eyes and went away
I cared for no one and just walked
Where as on seminars I had lot more talked

He was lying on the road
May be he was pulling lots of load
It was hand pulled cart
It was his routine and part

It was blazing sun on top
The heat waves were non top
Yet he had raced against time
I presumed he wanted to reach early sometimes

Luck would not have played favorably
He failed to pull more and failed miserably
The road became his last bed
There was not even little shed

I wanted to cry but could not
As I had ceaselessly carried on and fought
But ultimately nothing desired was brought
All attempts had failed and nothing could be sought

I waited for a minute and gave little glimpse
Cursed his fate but prayed sacred verse
Why almighty not gave enough courage to reach an end?
Where else one can wait for to have an honest friend?

When I looked back and thought of same fate?
The mercy totally failed me or came very late
How many may be facing death unceremoniously?
Where life was uncertain and still moved on continuously

I failed to show little courtesy and moved on
The battle was to be waged and shown
I could help nothing even if wanted
As I myself was short of but could have waited

Did I prove coward for turning back?
Certainly yes as it was humanity at stake
How many of us may have preferred as I did
What else we could provide or offered lead?

Leave no one unattended even if you nothing
Some solace to self and to him for something
Some message of great human like quality

[...] Read more

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Sacrilegious Fury

Blasphemy has failed. Failed to shock.
In the twilight of the twentieth century.
Religious fervour, which empowered insatiable
blasphemy. Has faded rendering shockingly,
provocative words, mere caricatures; shadows;
degraded farts; winding past damning exclamations.

Blasphemy has failed. Failed to shock.
Blasphemous remarks. Uttered against Almighty God.
Evil thoughts spoken hurled. Against anything esteemed sacred.
Have failed. To death threatened shock. Modern immune society.
Rendezvous. With hackneyed profanity. Fails to ignite chill fear.
Fearful is lobotomy preformed. Upon supposed clinically insane.

Anger spat. Hot furious. Death accompanying curse. Sworn
in stormy, less atheistic, abandoned past, violent darker ages.
Is feared now, only when tormented, demon possessed curser.
Is rabidly dangerous, with obvious, threatening derangement.
Such awesome obscenities, hold frightening immense power.
Threaten promise, immediate painful physical, impact punishment.

Ever the real; modern power; behind shocking blasphemy.

Yet ancient evil, still blasphemes, against true holy powers.
With all the bile, spat forth possessed vehemence; boiling
vile disinherited faith; awaiting revelation damned judgement.
Promised execution; awaiting accursed; dispossessed angel
become demons; still inflicting this earth; like an accursed plague.

Evil is more cunning, when less obviously evident. And
unbelievable in an age, intoning aspiritual excused, scientific
ignorance. Yet Satan ranges, howling banished, cast from heaven.
For evil words, are like hideous snakes, slithering into corrupted
unguarded orifices. Claiming souls bound for personalized hell.

Blasphemy has failed. Failed to death. Threateningly shock.
In twilight bombed out. Friday the thirteenth. Twentieth century.
For religious fear; fervour; persecution; is empowered indifferently.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Mask Of Future

Dreams weren’t farfetched for me
Life wasn’t bad for me
I got everything I wanted,
Power and ability, and even opportunity
But I ignored something unknown.

I got an opportunity,
But I did not complete my wish.
I did not misuse my opportunity,
But this world has a sequence.
A flow which we all follow
Something I failed to do.
I used my powers at the wrong time.
I stepped into higher steps ignoring the lower ones.

But I failed to realize something,
I failed to realize that everything required a basement.
A basement on which it can stand.
A power on which it can function.

I ignored the lower aspects of my life,
I went for the larger ones and accomplished them with ease
But there were two things in the lower steps.
Two things that I ignored.
Time and patience.
I ignored the aspect of time, and looked into the future.
I lacked patience and was eager to reach the future.
But I failed to realize that the future did not exist.
We can never reach our future.
For, when we reach it, it becomes the present.
I failed to realize that the future is yet another present,
A present which I always ignored.
I failed to realize that we can control only our present.
Use the present wisely, and the future will follow up.

I failed to see the hidden mask of future.
A mask, if opened, showed that the future is just another present.

poem by Vivek Kartha
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Hetuaght me a lesson

He said he was going to
teach me a lesson.
I needed to no some things.

The lesson was rape.
But he said it was a game.
He said I had to learn sometime.

When he'd finished.
He smiled and said.
This happens to
Stupid little girls
All the time.
I was only teaching you a lesson.

If it was a lesson to learn
It was one well tuaght.
Be weary of who you trust.

For you never can
Read people like a book.
If you could
The world would be safe.

It was a lesson hard learned.
One that still remains today.
Its a lesson that effects me still.

I only wish I could
Of turned and run.

Only when your young
Like that you dont
Really understand.
If I did
I would of ran.
A thousand miles a way.
Out of reach.
And out of harms way.

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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The Pillage Hangman - Parody LONGFELLOW - The Village Blacksmith

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The Smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can
And looks the whole world in the face
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming furge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church
and sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach.
He hears his daughter's voice
singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling, -rejoicing, -sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Being Drunk's A Lot Like Loving You

I drank till I Stumbled
I drank till i fell
When The drunk part was over it hurt me like hell now i know about drinkin so i know one
things true bein drunk's a lot like lovin you
Cause I loved till i stumbled
I loved till I fell
When the When the lovin was over it hurt me like hell I know what a taste of the wrong love
can do being drunk's a lot like lovin you
And I've woke up some mornings a sworn off the drink at that ive done reasonably well I think
but i havent done well swearin off you and me and that ive failed miserably
Well ive felt the hangover of lovin all night ive sat at the bar all alone in a fight I've
bottled up feelings and poured 'em out to
Being drunk's a lot like lovin you
And I've woke up some mornings a sworn off the drink at that ive done reasonably well I think
but i havent done well swearin off you and me and that ive failed miserably
I've drank till i stumbled
I love till i fell
When the drunk part was over love hurt me like hell now i know about drinkin so i know one
things true being drunk's a lot like lovin you
Well i know what a taste of the wrong love can do sometimes i still get drunk lovin you

song performed by Kenny Chesney
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Golden Age

Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept,
And the first lay as yet in silence slept,
A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre
To notes of wail and accents warm with fire;
Moved the soft Mantuan to his silvery strain,
And him who sobbed in pentametric pain;
To which the World, waxed desolate and old,
Fondly reverts, and calls the Age of Gold.

Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side,
Men found their few and simple wants supplied;
Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air,
And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer.
Love, with no charms except its own to lure,
Was swiftly answered by a love as pure.
No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower,
Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower.
Far in the future lurked maternal throes,
And children blossomed painless as the rose.
No harrowing question `why,' no torturing `how,'
Bent the lithe frame or knit the youthful brow.
The growing mind had naught to seek or shun;
Like the plump fig it ripened in the sun.
From dawn to dark Man's life was steeped in joy,
And the gray sire was happy as the boy.
Nature with Man yet waged no troublous strife,
And Death was almost easier than Life.
Safe on its native mountains throve the oak,
Nor ever groaned 'neath greed's relentless stroke.
No fear of loss, no restlessness for more,
Drove the poor mariner from shore to shore.
No distant mines, by penury divined,
Made him the sport of fickle wave or wind.
Rich for secure, he checked each wish to roam,
And hugged the safe felicity of home.

Those days are long gone by; but who shall say
Why, like a dream, passed Saturn's Reign away?
Over its rise, its ruin, hangs a veil,
And naught remains except a Golden Tale.
Whether 'twas sin or hazard that dissolved
That happy scheme by kindly Gods evolved;
Whether Man fell by lucklessness or pride,-
Let jarring sects, and not the Muse, decide.
But when that cruel Fiat smote the earth,
Primeval Joy was poisoned at its birth.
In sorrow stole the infant from the womb,
The agëd crept in sorrow to the tomb.
The ground, so bounteous once, refused to bear
More than was wrung by sower, seed, and share.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Austin
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Thurso’s Landing

I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.

II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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5 Attemps

5 suicide attempts
Each one failed
5 times to try and love you
Each one failed
1- Slit my wrists
Failed horribly
1- Kiss you again
Failed horribly
2- Hang myself
Over the edge
2- Hug you again
Over the edge
3- Gun to my head
I couldn't pull through
3- Look in your eyes again
I couldn't pull through
4- Yell to God to end my life
I couldn't talk
4- Try to talk to you again
I couldn't talk
5- Slit my throat
I didn't have the strength
5- Touch you again
I didn't have the strength
5 suicide attempts
Each one failed
5 times to try and love you
Each one failed

poem by Emily Wimetal
Added by Poetry Lover
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Tessa's Song

I'm sorry I failed
I'm sorry I fell
Straight from grace
I'm sorry I failed
I'm sorry I lied
Straight to your face

The world you know
Keeps getting bigger
And badder
And all that's true
And all that's good
Doesn't seem to matter

What's good and what's bad
What's right and what's wrong
Is getting harder to comprehend
And just when you think
You've figured it out
The rules are changed again

I'm sorry I failed
I'm sorry you see
All that I lack
I'm sorry I failed
And if I could
I would take it all back

It's hard to believe
This war has gone on
Since before you were born
And I worry
That it will still be raging
When you are grown

The things you see
The drugs and the sex
And you're still so young
I lie awake at night
Hoping I've shown you
Which road is the right one

I'm sorry I failed
I pray that you know
I'm doing the best I can
I'm sorry I failed
I know you will become
So much more than I am

So much time that I've wasted

[...] Read more

poem by Sarah Deen
Added by Poetry Lover
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Lesson In Leavin

Somebodys gonna give you a lesson in leavin
Somebodys gonna give you back what youve been givin
And I hope that Im around
To watch em knock you down
Its like you to love em and leave em
Just like you loved me and left me
Its like you to do that sort of thing
Over and over again
Youre a fool-hearted man
I hear youve been askin about me
From some of my friends
Well youd better believe Im not goin
Through that again
Youre the kind of man a woman thinks she can change
Oh, but the only thing changin is my way of thinkin
And Im thinkin that maybe someday
Somebodys gonna give you a lesson in losin
Somebodys gonna do to you what youve been doin
And I hope that Im around
To watch em knock you down
Somebodys gonna give you a lesson in hurtin
Somebodys gonna leave you with your fire burnin
And no way to put it out
Baby there aint no doubt
Youre a fool-hearted man
Yeah, youre the kind of man
A woman thinks she can change
But the only thing changin
Is my way of thinkin
And Im thinkin that maybe someday
Somebodys gonna give you a lesson in leavin
Somebodys gonna give you back what youve been givin
And I hope that Im around
To watch em knock you down
Its like you to love em and leave em
Just like you loved me and left me
Its like you to do that sort of thing
Over and over again
Youre a fool-hearted man
Somebodys gonna give you a lesson in leavin
Somebodys gonna give you back what youve been givin
And I hope that Im around
To watch em knock you down
Its like you to love em and leave em
Just like you loved me and left me
Its like you to do that sort of thing
Over and over again
Youre a fool-hearted man
Oh, a fool-hearted man
Oh, whoa

[...] Read more

song performed by Jo Dee Messina
Added by Lucian Velea
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