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There's something to be learned by listening and absorbing and watching before you start telling the people who have been there how to rearrange chairs.

quote by Anne Northup
Added by Lucian Velea
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Handles Bermuda

bean bag spokane
betty boop retro bowling bag
beli ni bags
bean bag hawaii
belongs in your bag wedge grab
bedroom in a bag seashells
betsey johnson blue metallic bag
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betty boop big travel bag
bean bag toos games
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bicycle gear bag
bean bag filler poly fil
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beverly hills polo club cosmetics bags
bean bag chair ohio state
bean bag toss video game
bennington golf bag
beige plastic handle bag
bean bags for dogs
bean bag toose game
beg barrow or steal bag
benefits of heavy bag use
bennington cart golf bag
bean bag desktop
bean bag tos rules
bean bag game board dimensions
bean bags for cats
bean bag game chicago retailer
ben hogan apex cart bag
bem is bag co
bejio bags
beetle bags zx12r
bemis bag plastic bags
bean bag singaproe
bean bag drink holder
betseyville be mine satchel bag
bean bags inexpensive
bean bag shotgun pics
bedouin bag by radley
b ean bags bulk
bean bag toss tailgate games
bella animal print bag
beresford packaging plastic bags
bean bag store toronto
ben sherman messenger bags
bejui bags
beijo bags

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Luggage Canada

b ean bag stoer
bed liner motorcycle bags
bern aby bag
bed in a bag ty pennington
beetle bags roadstar midnight star
bean bag chairs burbank
bedroom in a bag justine
bean bag guns for purchase
berto bag
bed in a bag pink paisley
belt bag tool belt
biasia byoux bags
beer corn hole bags
beg borrow steal bags
bennington golf travel bag
bible verse shoulder hand bags
bean bag stuffing material
bean bag plastic pellets
beijo business bags pastel blue
belkin messenger bag
b ean bag simba
bean bag toss game specifications
bean bag chairs reno nv
bean bag herb alpert
bean bag forgame
bella hand bags
bean bag chair video
bean bag door stops
beretta nra approved gun bag
ben hogan kapalua golf bag
bes pak freezer bags
bean bag furniture paypal
bean bags chair ladybug
bean bag tossing game
betty boop gift bags
bean bag tic tac toe
bettz designs knitting tote bags
bean bag toss rules
beth any bag
bean bag chair indigo denim print
bean bag pillows microfiber
be an foam bag
bible buy loaf bag
bebe handbag bag
beverage delivery bags
betty boop harley bag
bichon frise gift bags
ben hogan golf mystique stand bag
bicyce crossbar bag
bean bag shells shotgun

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Watching Me Watching You

I sit by the cutting on the beaconsfield line.
Hes watching me watching the trains go by.
And they move so fast --- boy, they really fly.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the way he stares --- feel like locking my door
And pulling my phone from the wall.
His eyes, like lights from a laser, burn
Making my hair stand --- making the goose-bumps crawl.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
At the cocktail party with a bucks fizz in my hand
I feel him watching me watching the girls go by.
And they move so smooth without even trying.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the crowd thins and he moves up close but he doesnt speak.
I have to look the other way.
But curiosity gets the better part of me and I peek:
Got two drinks in his hand --- see his lips move ---
What the hells he trying to say.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching
The trains go by.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me watching him watching.

song performed by Jethro Tull
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soccer–Passion Song

Soccer–Passion Song

Soccer in the evening;
Soccer in the morning;
Soccer in spring and fall.

Soccer in the raining;
Soccer in the snowing;
Soccer in winter and summer.

Soccer in between my feet,
where I walk;
Soccer in my heart and mind,
how I live;
Soccer my love and life.

Soccer I wake up and play;
Soccer I hold it to sleep;
Soccer my work and rest.

Soccer I sing a new song;
Soccer I dance the magic steps;
Soccer my tears and joy.

Soccer my Mom buys it for me to play;
Soccer my Dad brings me to the game;
Soccer my dear Love watches me to score.

Soccer I dribble and shoot;
Soccer I pass and fall;
Soccer my glory and downfall.

Soccer I strike to attack;
Soccer I tackle to defend;
Soccer my struggle and survival.

Soccer I receive the flags and the whistles;
Soccer I get the yellow and red card;
Soccer my moves and stop.

Soccer I meet my friends;
Soccer I make my enemies;
Soccer my conflict and peace.

Soccer I play and watch;
Soccer I watch but cannot play;
Soccer my dream and reality.

Soccer I learn the rights;
Soccer I confess the fouls;

[...] Read more

poem by Laijon Liu
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Watching For Pa

Three little forms in the twilight gray,
Searching the shadows across the way;
Two pair of black eyes, and one of blue --
Brimful of love, and of mischief too;
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

May, with her placid and thoughtful brow,
Beaming with kindness and love just now;
Willie the youngest, in anguish did lay,
Stealing sly kisses from sister May,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Nellie, with ringlets of sunny hue,
Cosily nested between the two;
Pressing her cheeks to the window pane,
Wishing the absent one home again.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Now there are shouts from the window seat;
There is a patter of childish feet;
Gaily they rush through the lighted hall --
"Coming at last" is the joyful call.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Green Spanish Eyes

Ah Consuela! Surveying vast vistas for visions of green Spanish eyes,
I discern them again where she left me back then, when we kissed as she parted, my friend.
So I'm daring to tread towards the klieg lights ahead, where I'll wait and I'll watch her ascend.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she teases the mirror with green Spanish eyes;
Her serape entangles her ebony bangles like lace on the sorcerer's looms,
And her capes of the night, she drapes tight to excite, and her fan is embellished with plumes.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching as spectators savour her green Spanish eyes;
Taming wild concertinas, the dark ballerina performs on the concert hall stage,
But she shies from the sound of ovation unbound like a timorous bird in a cage.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she quickens the pit with her green Spanish eyes,
As the cymbals shake, clashing, the floodlights wake, flashing, igniting the wild fireflies,
And the piccolo piper's inviting the vipers to coil in the cold caldron skies.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching the shimmering shadows in green Spanish eyes
As I rise from my chair and converge to the stair with a hesitant sip of my wine.
Though she doesn't deny me, she wanders right by me with neither a look nor a sign.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she waves to the stage with her green Spanish eyes,
(For her senses scoff, scorning the biblical warning of kisses of Judas that sting,
With her pierced ears defeating the echoes repeating) and smiles at the bluebird that sings.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching faint embers a' stir in her green Spanish eyes,
For a soft spoken stranger enveloping danger has captured the rhyme in the room
As he slips into sight through the scent of the night and the breath of her heavy perfume.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she gauges his guise through her green Spanish eyes
- From his gypsy-like mane, to his diamond stud cane, to the raven engraved on his vest -
For a faraway form, a tempestuous storm, lurks and heaves neath the cleav'e of her breasts.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching the caravels cruise in her green Spanish eyes;
With the castanets clacking upon the deck cracking, he whips 'round his cloak with a whiz
And without sacrificing, at mien so enticing, she floats with her face facing his.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching, the vertigo veiling her green Spanish eyes,
While the drumbeat pounds, droning, the rhythm sounds, moaning, of jungles Jamaican entwined
In the valleys concealing the vineyards revealing the vaults in the caves of her mind.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching, while carnivals call to her green Spanish eyes,
And with paused palpitations the tom-tom temptations come taunting her tremulous feet
With her toe tips a' tingle while jute boxes jingle for jesters that jive on the street.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she rides with the tides in her green Spanish eyes,
And her silhouette's travelling on ripples unravelling and shaking the shivering shores,
As she strides from the light to the taste of the night through the candlelit cabaret doors.

Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she dances till dawn with her green Spanish eyes,
With her movements adorning a trickle of morning as sipped by the mouth of the moon,

[...] Read more

poem by Terry O'Leary
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I've learned

Ive learned that to love someone doesnt have to involve pain,
Ive learned that to have a friend you must be a friend first,
Ive learned that in time youll see your mistakes and learn from them,
Ive learned that to be alone sometimes is the best thing for you,
Ive learned that in order to love a person you must feel loved,
Ive learned that if your wrong admit it or youll never forgive yourself,
Ive learned that your first love will be a part of you and you may never forget,
Ive learned that in order to move on you must fix what was first wrong,
Ive learned that if you ever mess up, you can always start over again,
Ive learned that to be 'cool' doesnt involve pressure,
Ive learned to accept what I have and be happy,
Ive learned that people will come and go so tell the ones you love how you feel,
Ive learned that to respect yourself you must respect others,
Ive learned that your actions always involve consequences whether it be good or bad,
Ive learned that priceless words can mean the world to someone,
Ive learned that sometimes being silent is the best solution,
Ive learned to expect the unexpected,
Ive learned that healing a broken heart involves tears and pain,
Ive learned to see the world in the eyes of others,
And Ive learned that each new day is a day to touch a life.

poem by Carly Almonde
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Any Soldier To His Son

What did I do, sonny, in the Great World War?
Well, I learned to peel potatoes and to scrub the barrack floor.
I learned to push a barrow and I learned to swing a pick,
I learned to turn my toes out, and to make my eyeballs click.
I learned the road to Folkestone, and I watched the English shore,
Go down behind the skyline, as I thought, for evermore.
And the Blighty boats went by us and the harbour hove in sight,
And they landed us and sorted us and marched us "by the right".
"Quick march!" across the cobbles, by the kids who rang along
Singing "Appoo?" "Spearmant" "Shokolah?" through dingy old Boulogne;
By the widows and the nurses and the niggers and Chinese,
And the gangs of smiling Fritzes, as saucy as you please.

I learned to ride as soldiers ride from Etaps to the Line,
For days and nights in cattle trucks, packed in like droves of swine.
I learned to curl and kip it on a foot of muddy floor,
And to envy cows and horses that have beds of beaucoup straw.
I learned to wash in shell holes and to shave myself in tea,
While the fragments of a mirror did a balance on my knee.
I learned to dodge the whizz-bangs and the flying lumps of lead,
And to keep a foot of earth between the sniper and my head.
I learned to keep my haversack well filled with buckshee food,
To take the Army issue and to pinch what else I could.
I learned to cook Maconochie with candle-ends and string,
With "four-by-two" and sardine-oil and any God-dam thing.
I learned to use my bayonet according as you please
For a breadknife or a chopper or a prong for toasting cheese.
I learned "a first field dressing" to serve my mate and me
As a dish-rag and a face-rag and a strainer for our tea.
I learned to gather souvenirs that home I hoped to send,
And hump them round for months and months and dump them in the end.
I learned to hunt for vermin in the lining of my shirt,
To crack them with my finger-nail and feel the beggars spirt;
I learned to catch and crack them by the dozen and the score
And to hunt my shirt tomorrow and to find as many more.

I learned to sleep by snatches on the firestep of a trench,
And to eat my breakfast mixed with mud and Fritz's heavy stench.
I learned to pray for Blighty ones and lie and squirm with fear,
When Jerry started strafing and the Blighty ones were near.
I learned to write home cheerful with my heart a lump of lead
With the thought of you and mother, when she heard that I was dead.
And the only thing like pleasure over there I ever knew,
Was to hear my pal come shouting, "There's a parcel, mate, for you."

So much for what I did do - now for what I have not done:
Well, I never kissed a French girl and I never killed a Hun,
I never missed an issue of tobacco, pay, or rum,
I never made a friend and yet I never lacked a chum.
I never borrowed money, and I never lent - but once

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous English
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Beach Chairs

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the setting sun
holding hands and reminiscing
how it all begun

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the ships out on the sea
holding hands and smiling
together we're meant to be

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching people walking past
holding hands and knowing
that our love will always last

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the waves along the shore
holding hands we realize
our love is stronger than before

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the changing tide
holding hands with happiness
to be by each others side

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the sunrise
holding hands with tears of joy
there are no more good-byes

poem by Joyce Ebrecht
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Angels

Take this man to prison, the man heard herod say,
And then four squads of soldiers came and carried him away.
Chained up between two watchmen, peter tried to sleep,
But beyond the walls an endless prayer was lifting for his keep.
Then a light cut through the darkness of a lonely prison cell,
And the chains that bound the man of God just opened up and fell,
And running to his people before the break of day,
There was only one thing on his mind, only one thing to say:
Angels watching over me, every move I make,
Angels watching over me!
Angels watching over me, every step I take,
Angels watching over me!
God only knows the times my life was threatened just today.
A reckless car ran out of gas before it ran my way.
Near misses all around me, accidents unknown,
Though I never see with human eyes the hands that lead me home.
But I know theyre all around me all day and through the night.
When the enemy is closing in, I know sometimes they fight
To keep my fight from falling, Ill never turn away.
If youre asking whats protecting me then youre gonna hear me say:
Got his angels watching over me, every move I make,
Angles watching over me!
Angels watching over me, every step I take,
Angels watching over me....
Angels watching over me....
Angels watching over me.
Got his angels watching over me, every move I make,
Angels watching over me!
Angels watching over me, every step I take,
Angels watching over me!
Angels watching over me,
Angels watching over me,
Angels watching over me,
Angels watching over me!
Though I never see with human eyes the hands that lead me home....

song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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New Beginning

The whole worlds broke and it aint worth fixing
Its time to start all over, make a new beginning
Theres too much pain, too much suffering
Lets resolve to start all over make a new beginning
Now dont get me wrong - I love life and living
But when you wake up and look around at everything thats going down -
All wrong
You see we need to change it now, this world with too few happy endings
We can resolve to start all over make a new beginning
Start all over
Start all over
Start all over
Start all over
The world is broken into fragments and pieces
That once were joined together in a unified whole
But now too many stand alone - theres too much separation
We can resolve to come together in the new beginning
Start all over
Start all over
Start all over
Start all over
We can break the cycle - we can break the chain
We can start all over - in the new beginning
We can learn, we can teach
We can share the myths the dream the prayer
The notion that we can do better
Change our lives and paths
Create a new world and
Start all over
Start all over
Start all over
Start all over
The whole worlds broke and it aint worth fixing
Its time to start all over, make a new beginning
Theres too much fighting, too little understanding
Its time to stop and start all over
Make a new beginning
Start all over
Start all over
Start all over
Start all over
We need to make new symbols
Make new signs
Make a new language
With these well define the world
And start all over
Start all over
Start all over
Start all over ...

song performed by Tracy Chapman
Added by Lucian Velea
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0008 A Ghazal

I lie awake as the light night-rain falls, listening
to its irregularities, listening

as the breeze blows it now and then
against the window and the curtain flutters; listening

and wondering if I can hear
the rain listening

to itself, as if – I sometimes think I hear this –
there’s a moment just before it stops as if listening

to its own decision to stop, as if it sighs,
thinks, that’s enough; it could be listening

to the gratitude of the closed flowers, the wet earth,
the ecstasy of roots which are themselves listening

to the flowers sleeping, sighing in their sleep.
But do you wonder why I’m listening

instead of sleeping, this warm rainy night?
What’s so important that it needs my listening?

It was the rain that woke me; and as I turned, sighed,
it was the thought of you last night here next to me, listening

not to me, but to your own dreams – which I may never share;
though I may share you in my listening

to your sweet sleep’s breath, felt faintly on my shoulder;
and so, there’s a question in my listening –

did you awake at the same night rain, you so far away,
awake, sigh, and in your half-awakened listening

know that I too, thought of you?
Sighed that sweet thought, of our shared, single listening? …

As the perfume of a rose may be more evocative than the rose,
So sweeter, steadier than thought, dream, memory – the listening!

[A ghazal has a rhyme scheme aa ba ca da >]

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Fighting For Night

Sitting and watching the sun rise
knowing time is near
time to laugh
time to smile
time to cheer
Sitting and watching the sun rise

Lyeing and watching the sun sway
over the puffy white clouds
over the bright blue sky
over a home town
Lyeing watching the sun sway

Standing and watching the sun fall
down to the ground
down to the greenest of grass
down to meet your tears
Standing and watching the sun fall

Leaning and watching the moon climb
up past the stars
up past the sun's lost glem
up to where it shins too full
Leaning and watching the moon climb

Swaying
not watching
not breathing
not hearing
not frowning
Swaying

Laughing from below
watching your body away
watching the rope in the moon light
watching gathering people
watching them cut you down
Laughing from below

Sitting and watching the sun rise
Lyeing and watching the sun sway
Standing and watching the sun fall
Leaning and watching the moon climb
Swaying
Laughing from below
Laughing
from
below

poem by Kathlyn Grace
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Counting The Days

When you'RE down putting nothing but a mask
And you GET UP and you're running out of blast
When you picked OUT A FEATHER WRITE a word
with the debts and you set it down
But now I'm into
Like a clock...has been around
what...the town
...
but now
Counting the days to rearrange
Beyond the surface
We're meant to pay
counting the days to rearrange
and you won't suffer
we're still the same
When you're...spreading from the past
Like you haven't got the running on your ways
when you're a bit loaded digging UP the dirt
and you had...
but now I'm into
...on the ground
and you're dizzy, YOU'RE AD NAUSEAM AND foul
...BLEEDING ALL DOWN
but now
Counting the days to rearrange
Beyond the surface
We're meant to pay
Counting the days to rearrange
And you won't suffer
We're still the same
I'm tired of...the lies
Say you don't wannabe and so do I
Where'S the rap and respect
speaks to reach all the sides
where's the goddess bless of justify
Counting the days to rearrange
Beyond the surface
We're meant to pay
Counting the days to rearrange
And you won't suffer
We're still the same
I'm tired of...the lies
Say you don't wannabe and so do I
Where'S the rap and respect
speaks to reach all the sides
where's the goddess bless of justify
[Thanks to figure09_linkin_park@hotmail.com for these lyrics]

song performed by Guano Apes
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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First Year University Expereinces

I learned why it is not wise to skip class often

I learned that skipping homework in university is not the same as skipping homework in high school

I learned what it feels like to be awake for over 2 days

I learned how to smoke pot from a bong

I learned how to compose an essay the day before it's due

I learned that the Freshman 15 is no joke

I learned how to do laundry

I learned to pretend to be happy

I learned to multitask

I learned to be more sociable

I learned why my parents and teachers warned me about the difficulty of university

I learned that failing is expensive

I learned small things, like freshly washed bed sheets, make me happy
I learned to lie

I learned how expensive alcohol is

I learned what it feels like to be a failure

I type this rant while skipping my business ethics class as I further delay the composition of my psychology term paper

poem by Michelle Cow
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The Listening Week

This is the listening week of the year
Listening-in.
A-cock and alert is the national ear
Listening-in.
All over the land in the country towns,
From the back of the Leeuwin to Darling Downs,
Layers of 'quids' or the odd half-crowns,
They are listening-in.

On the far-flung farms they are round each set,
Listening-in.
The work and the worry they all forget,
Listening-in.
Wherever an aerial soars in space
To the Cup, or the Oaks or the Steeplechase,
To the roar of the ring and the lure of the race
They are listening-in.

In the far outback there are sun-tanned men,
Listening-in.
Where the woolshed stands by the drafting pen
Listening-in.
Old Dad's come in from the Ninety Mile;
He scored on the Cup and he wears a smile,
And he 'reckons this game is well worth while'
So he's listening in.

To the edge of the desert the sound-waves go;
And, listening-in,
Ned of the Overland, Saltbush Joe
Listening-in
Recall the giants of years long past,
And the loneliness of these spaces vast;
But they reckon that life's worth living at last
With this listening-in.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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We Can Start All Over Again

Now you say it's the end
Oh, but i think we can start over again
Just to think of the time
We were mellowed by spices of love
Let's not pretend
This can be the end of this love affair
We have all of the time in the world to live it again
Baby, we can start over again
We can start over again
We can start over again
We can start over again and again
As our hearts join one more time
Misunderstanding we could live behind
Don't you think it ain't true
I'm gonna keep on loving you
Let's not pretend
This can be the end of this love affair
We have all of the time in the world to live it again
Baby, we can start over again
We can start over again
We can start over again
We can start over again and again
Baby, we can start over again
We can start over again
We can start over again and again
With you out of my life i can't sleep at night
I climb the highest mountains, swim the deepest sea
To get to that love that belongs to me
As our hearts join one more time
Misunderstanding we could live behind
Don't you think it ain't true
I'm gonna keep on loving you
Baby we can start over again
We can start over again
We can start over again
We can start over again and again and again and again, baby
Now you say it's the end
Oh, but i think we can start over again
Just to think of the time
We were mellowed by spices of love
Let's not pretend
This can be the end of this love affair
We have all the time in the world to live it again
Baby, we can start over again
We can start over again
We can start over again
We can start over again and again

song performed by Gloria Gaynor
Added by Lucian Velea
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Praying To A New God

(feldman / chandler / hues)
What got into you got into me too
What came over you is coming over me
Feel like Ive had enough of all the old stuff
I saw the writing on the wall on my t.v.
Its another second coming, like it or not, yeah,
Oh yeah
Its another second coming, like it or not
You better start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying to a new god
Start praying to a new, new god
Theyre saying the devils got a new job
Start praying to a new--
A lot of babel came down the cable
Everybody can be famous for a day
From shore to shore
A big department store
Is all thats left of the american way
Its another second coming, like it or not, yeah,
Oh yeah
Its another second coming, like it or not
You better start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying to a new god
Start praying to a new, new god
Start praying what are you afraid of
Start praying to a new--
Theres a big world
In the street outside
In their uniform of pride
And theyve all come
To see a star from the east
Is he man or beast?
Decide
Feel like Im crucified, still Im not satisfied
The second coming is coming anyway
I hear them pray for more on every dance floor
I hear the word go out across the milky way
Its another second coming, like it or not, yeah,
Oh yeah
Its another second coming, like it or not
You better start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying to a new god
Start praying to a new, new god
Success and moneys what hes made of
Start praying to a new--
Start praying, praying on the freeway
Start praying to a new, new god
Start praying, praying on the airwaves
Start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying at the back door

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song performed by Wang Chung
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jump Start

Written by reggie calloway and vincent calloway
Alright yaul, oh, oh, oh
(uh, oh, uh, oh, oh, oh)
Hey, hey, ooh, yeah
Feels like my batterys in need of a jump
Our love is running down, done fell into a slump
Give me a spark to get the fire burning
A get my engine movin, set these wheels a turnin
Our love could use some rejuvination
You bring the wine, Ill bring the sweet conversation
Romance is here to stay, Ill testify cause I need some today
So wont cha
Jump start my heart
Charge me up when Im runnin down
Oh, jump start my heart
Lift my feet up off the ground
When it comes to lovin, baby
Cant get enough, hot wire me
Satisfy me, dont give me up
Turn on the heat on a cold winters morning
Dont let the seasons change and nature catch me callin
Cant let this feelin just slip away
Our love was meant to last forever and a day
We cant neglect what we cherish the most
So drop your foolish pride cause I need you more and more
(nothing good comes easily)
Ooh, weve got to work it til we get it right
(you see I love you so) Ill (Ill never let you go) never let you go
(I wanna hug you) oh (and kiss you, keep you right here with me)
So wont ya jump start my heart
Oh, charge me up when Im running down
Would you do that for me, baby
Jump start my heart
Hey, lift my feet up off the ground
Oh, dont let me down
Jump start my heart
Woo, charge me up when Im running down
Would you do that for me, baby
Jump start my heart, hey, hey
Lift my feet up off the ground
Mm, dont let me down (jump)
Dont step on me now
Alright lets uncross (jump) those wire
When I say hit it, yaul hit it
Ignition, ignition
Musical interlude
Give it a little gas yaul, come on, ou!
Ooh, baby (jump) uh, oh, uh, oh, oh
I say dont stomp hard, baby (jump,jump)
(jump) lift me up

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song performed by Natalie Cole
Added by Lucian Velea
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