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As a designer, the mission with which we have been charged is simple: providing space at the right cost.

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What Is Use!

What is use of chanting hymns?
If we refuse to condemn and remain inhuman
What is use of denying place with rights?
When we can't rightfully respect and fight

Why do we worship day and night?
Is it to gain the excess for eternal light?
Or Lead us to a place where we have peace?
Or to devote entire life to His service

We have no right to keep anybody in captivity
It is against natural law and considered as inhumanity
We are sent here to preserve the sanctity
Respect the mission for which we have been sent by almighty

It may be some years for our enjoyment
There after long period for curse and resentment
You may die thousand deaths with long repentance
We must utilize such period as heavenly sent chance

It may be exercise in futility
Even if you spend hours for prayers to almighty
Bear the compassion in heart and show little consideration
Ask for reprieve and try for little elevation

It is noble quality if you try to forgive and forget
If you can’t do it then leave it at least to their fate
Nature has its own way of delivering the justice
You only try to be generous and remain at peace

It is not expected from you to be totally different
Little tendency to give and take may be considered cent percent
After all we are in selfish world and liable to commit error
But it is agreed and understood that same can be judged in mirror

We are not here to fool the people with tall promises
We are also not divine people to free them from their curses
We can guide them to some reasonable living
Rest everything must be left to them for believing

Our position is like that of crane standing on one foot?
Pretence with silent position but actually waiting to shoot
At the target coming very near in search of food
Surprise attack with lightening speed before move is understood

We show the same type of skill when dealing with fellow brethrens
We carry out strong maneuvers only to address our concerns
We put entire community at one side to suffer
At the same seize control full slice with little to offer

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The ability to conduct is a gift of God with which few have been endowed in full measure.

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Experimental high energy physics research is a group effort. I have been very fortunate to have had outstanding students and colleagues who have made invaluable contributions to the research with which I have been associated.

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Do not share the knowledge with which you have been blessed with everyone in general, as you do with some people in particular; and know that there are some men in whom Allah, may He he glorified, has placed hidden secrets, which they are forbidden to reveal.

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Allow him the freedom with which he was born.

Through teenage wastelands I have come to know truth beyond all reason.

Freedom flies upon the wing
We sing the songs we were born to sing
Bring me Love for a Love is won
Run a race – A race is run
Seek a Love to make you young.

Allow nature to educate the child
Allow him the freedom with which he was born.
Allow nature to reveal the harmony of her wilderness
Before from the child his dreams are torn.

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The Widow Of Crescentius : Part I.

'Midst Tivoli's luxuriant glades,
Bright-foaming falls, and olive shades,
Where dwelt, in days departed long,
The sons of battle and of song,
No tree, no shrub its foliage rears,
But o'er the wrecks of other years,
Temples and domes, which long have been
The soil of that enchanted scene.

There the wild fig-tree and the vine
O'er Hadrian's mouldering villa twine;
The cypress, in funeral grace,
Usurps the vanished column's place;
O'er fallen shrine and ruined frieze
The wall-flower rustles in the breeze;
Acanthus-leaves the marble hide
They once adorned in sculptured pride;
And nature hath resumed her throne
O'er the vast works of ages flown.

Was it for this that many a pile,
Pride of Hissus and of Nile,
To Anio's banks the image lent
Of each imperial monument?
Now Athens weeps her shattered fanes,
Thy temples, Egypt, strew thy plains;
And the proud fabrics Hadrian reared
From Tibur's vale have disappeared.
We need no prescient sibyl there
The doom of grandeur to declare;
Each stone, where weeds and ivy climb,
Reveals some oracle of Time;
Each relic utters Fate's decree,
The future as the past shall be.

Halls of the dead! in Tibur's vale,
Who now shall tell your lofty tale?
Who trace the high patrician's dome,
The bard's retreat, the hero's home?
When moss-clad wrecks alone record
There dwelt the world's departed lord,
In scenes where verdure's rich array
Still sheds young beauty o'er decay,
And sunshine on each glowing hill,
'Midst ruins finds a dwelling still.

Sunk is thy palace - but thy tomb,
Hadrian! hath shared a prouder doom,
Though vanished with the days of old
Its pillars of Corinthian mould;
And the fair forms by sculpture wrought,
Each bodying some immortal thought,
Which o'er that temple of the dead,
Serene but solemn beauty shed,
Have found, like glory's self, a grave
In Time's abyss, or Tiber's wave:
Yet dreams more lofty and more fair
Than art's bold hand hath imaged e'er,
High thoughts of many a mighty mind,
Expanding when all else declined,
In twilight years, when only they
Recalled the radiance passed away,
Have made that ancient pile their home,
Fortress of freedom and of Rome.

There he, who strove in evil days
Again to kindle glory's rays,
Whose spirit sought a path of light,
For whose dim ages far too bright,-
Crescentius long maintained the strife
Which closed but with its martyr's life,
And left the imperial tomb a name,
A heritage of holier fame.

There closed De Brescia's mission high,
From thence the patriot came to die;
And thou, whose Roman soul the last
Spoke with the voice of ages past,
Whose thoughts so long from earth had fled
To mingle with the glorious dead,
That 'midst the world's degenerate race
They vainly sought a dwelling-place.
Within that house of death didst brood
O'er visions to thy ruin wooed.
Yet, worthy of a brighter lot,
Rienzi, be thy faults forgot!
For thou, when all around thee lay
Chained in the slumbers of decay -
So sunk each heart, that mortal eye
Had scarce a
tear
for liberty -
Alone, amidst the darkness there,
Couldst gaze on Rome - yet not despair!

'Tis morn, and Nature's richest dyes
Are floating o'er Italian skies;
Tints of transparent lustre shine
Along the snow-clad Appennine;
The clouds have left Soracte's height,
And yellow Tiber winds in light,
Where tombs and fallen fanes have strewed
The wide Campagna's solitude.
'Tis sad amidst that scene to trace
Those relics of a vanished race;
Yet, o'er the ravaged path of time -
Such glory sheds that brilliant clime,
Where Nature still, though empires fall,
Holds her triumphant festival -
E'en Desolation wears a smile,
Where skies and sunbeams laugh the while;
And heaven's own light, earth's richest bloom,
Array the ruin and the tomb.

But she, who from yon convent tower
Breathes the pure freshness of the hour;
She, whose rich flow of raven hair
Streams wildly on the morning air,
Heeds not how fair the scene below,
Robed in Italia's brightest glow.
Though throned 'midst Latium's classic plains
The Eternal City's towers and fanes,
And they, the Pleiades of earth,
The seven proud hills of Empire's birth,
Lie spread beneath: not now her glance
Roves o'er that vast sublime expanse;
Inspired, and bright with hope, 'tis thrown
On Adrian's massy tomb alone:
There, from the storm, when Freedom fled,
His faithful crew Crescentius led;
While she, his anxious bride, who now
Bends o'er the scene her youthful brow,
Sought refuge in the hallowed fane,
Which then conflict shelter, not in vain.

But now the lofty strife is o'er,
And Liberty shall weep no more.
At length Imperial Otho's voice
Bids her devoted sons rejoice;
And he, who battled to restore
The glories and the rights of yore,
Whose accents, like the clarion's sound,
Could burst the dead repose around,
Again his native Rome shall see,
The sceptred city of the free!
And youth Stephania waits the hour
When leaves her lord his fortress tower,
Her ardent heart with joy elate,
That seems beyond the reach of fate;
Her mien, like creature from above,
All vivified with hope and love.

Fair is her form, and in her eye
Lives all the soul of Italy;
A meaning lofty and inspired,
As by her native day-star fired;
Such wild and high expression, fraught
With glances of impassioned thought,
As fancy sheds, in visions bright,
O'er priestess of the God of Light;
And the dark locks that lend her face
A youthful and luxuriant grace,
Wave o'er her cheek, whose kindling dyes
Seem from the fire within to rise,
But deepened by the burning heaven
To her own land of sunbeams given.
Italian art that fervid glow
Would o'er ideal beauty throw,
And with such ardent life express
Her high-wrought dreams of loveliness, -
Dreams which, surviving Empire's fall,
The shade of glory still recall.

But see! - the banner of the brave
O'er Adrian's tomb hath ceased to wave.
'Tis lowered - and now Stephania's eye
Can well the martial train descry,
Who, issuing from that ancient dome,
Pour through the crowded streets of Rome.
Now from her watch-tower on the height,
With step as fabled wood-nymph's light,
She flies - and swift her way pursues,
Through the lone convent's avenues.
Dark cypress groves, and fields o'erspread,
With records of the conquering dead,
And paths which track a glowing waste,
She traverses in breathless haste;
And by the tombs where dust is shrined,
Once tenanted by loftiest mind,
Still passing on, hath reached the gate
Of Rome, the proud, the desolate!
Thronged are the streets, and, still renewed,
Rush on the gathering multitude.

Is it their high-souled chief to greet,
That thus the Roman thousands meet?
With names that bid their thoughts ascend,
Crescentius, thine in song to blend;
And of triumphal days gone by
Recall the inspiring pageantry?
- There is an air of breathless dread,
An eager glance, a hurrying tread;
And now a fearful silence round,
And now a fitful murmuring sound,
'Midst the pale crowds, that almost seem
Phantoms of some tumultuous dream.
Quick is each step, and wild each mien,
Portentous of some awful scene.
Bride of Crescentius! as the throng
Bore thee with whelming force along,
How did thine anxious heart beat high,
Till rose suspense to agony! -
Too brief suspense, that soon shall close,
And leave thy heart to deeper woes.

Who 'midst yon guarded precinct stands,
With fearless mien, but fettered hands?
The ministers of death are nigh,
Yet a calm grandeur lights his eye;
And in his glance there lives a mind
Which was not formed for chains to bind,
But cast in such heroic mould
As theirs, the ascendant ones of old.
Crescentius! freedom's daring son,
Is this the guerdon thou hast won?
O worthy to have lived and died
In the bright days of Latium's pride!
Thus must the beam of glory close
O'er the seven hills again that rose,
When at thy voice, to burst the yoke,
The soul of Rome indignant woke?
Vain dream! the sacred shields are gone,
Sunk is the crowning city's throne:
The illusions, that around her cast
Their guardian spells, have long been past.
Thy life hath been a short-star's ray,
Shed o'er her midnight of decay;
Thy death at freedom's ruined shrine
Must rivet every chain - but thine.

Calm is his aspect, and his eye
Now fixed upon the deep-blue sky,
Now on those wrecks of ages fled,
Around in desolation spread -
Arch, temple, column, worn and grey,
Recording triumphs passed away;
Works of the mighty and the free,
Whose steps on earth no more shall be,
Though their bright course hath left a trace
Nor years nor sorrows can efface.
Why changes now the patriot's mien,
Erewhile so loftily serene?
Thus can approaching death control
The might of that commanding soul?
No! - Heard he not that thrilling cry
Which told of bitterest agony?

He
heard it, and at once, subdued,
Hath sunk the hero's fortitude.
Whence rose that voice of woe can tell;
And 'midst the gazing throngs around
One well-known form his glance hath found -
One fondly loving and beloved,
In grief, in peril, faithful proved.
Yes, in the wildness of despair,
She, his devoted bride, is there.
Pale, breathless, through the crowd she flies,
The light of frenzy in her eyes:
But ere her arms can clasp the form,
Which life ere long must cease to warm -
Ere on his agonising breast
Her heart can heave, her head can rest -
Checked in her course by ruthless hands,
Mute, motionless, at once she stands;
With bloodless cheek and vacant glance,
Frozen and fixed in horror's trance;
Spell-bound, as every sense were fled,
And thought o'erwhelmed, and feeling dead,
And the light waving of her hair,
And veil, far floating on the air,
Alone, in that dread moment, show
She is no sculptured form of woe.

The scene of grief and death is o'er,
The patriot's heart shall throb no more:
But
hers
- so vainly formed to prove
The pure devotedness of love,
And draw from fond affection's eye
All thought sublime, all feeling high;
When consciousness again shall wake,
Hath now no refuge - but to break.
The spirit long inured to pain
May smile at fate in calm disdain;
Survive its darkest hour and rise
In more majestic energies.
But in the glow of vernal pride,
If each warm hope
at once
hath died,
Then sinks the mind, a blighted flower,
Dead to the sunbeam and the shower;
A broken gem, whose inborn light
Is scattered - ne'er to reunite.

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Castles in the Air

My thoughts by night are often filled
With visions false as fair:
For in the past alone I build
My castles in the air.

I dwell not now on what may be:
Night shadows o'er the scene:
But still my fancy wanders free
Through that which might have been.

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Wallace Stevens

The Snow Man

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

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The Urgent Revisiting Of It

If 'that' which should have been in place,
Is not and slips away.
Because of a hesitating procrastination,
With excuses prioriticized and made!
A rushing done today,
That should have taken time...
Those days before yesterday.
Can be thought of opportunities,
That came and faded to be erased.

There is nothing that will be done tomorrow,
With a necessity that comes...
That allows one to chase.
It just silences the support,
For the significance of importance!
And a significance that drifts,
Can be revived...
With an insistence that invites,
The urgent revisiting of it!

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The Deeds That Might Have Been

There are wrongs done in the fair face of heaven
Which cry aloud for vengeance, and shall cry;
Loves beautiful in strength whose wit has striven
Vainly with loss and man's inconstancy;
Dead children's faces watched by souls that die;
Pure streams defiled; fair forests idly riven;
A nation suppliant in its agony
Calling on justice, and no help is given.

All these are pitiful. Yet, after tears,
Come rest and sleep and calm forgetfulness,
And God's good providence consoles the years.
Only the coward heart which did not guess,
The dreamer of brave deeds that might have been,
Shall cureless ache with wounds for ever green.

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I Have Been Through The Gates

His heart to me, was a place of palaces and pinnacles and shining towers;
I saw it then as we see things in dreams,--I do not remember how long I slept;
I remember the tress, and the high, white walls, and how the sun was always on the
towers;
The walls are standing to-day, and the gates; I have been through the gates, I have
groped, I have crept
Back, back. There is dust in the streets, and blood; they are empty; darkness is over
them;
His heart is a place with the lights gone out, forsaken by great winds and the heavenly
rain, unclean and unswept,
Like the heart of the holy city, old blind, beautiful Jerusalem;
Over which Christ wept

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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXVI

THE THREE AGES OF WOMAN
Love, in thy youth, a stranger, knelt to thee,
With cheeks all red and golden locks all curled,
And cried, ``Sweet child, if thou wilt worship me,
Thou shalt possess the kingdoms of the world.''
But you looked down and said, ``I know you not,
Nor want I other kingdom than my soul.''
Till Love in shame, convicted of his plot,
Left you and turned him to some other goal.
And this discomfiture which you had seen
Long served you for your homily and boast,
While, of your beauty and yourself the queen,
You lived a monument of vain love crossed,
With scarce a thought of that which might have been
To scare you with the ghost of pleasures lost.

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That Which I Have

You
IT
Giving me fits?
No!
I can handle this,
As its been done!
Before.
Those are lessons,
I have not ignored!

They
You
Me
With IT?
Being with them...
And they not getting 'it'?
No.

'Why me for this task? '
I sometimes would ask.
As I would pass those whispering,
'He's delusional!
He has refused our rationality! '
Quite confused he is.
And his tempermental personality! '

You've taught me to appreciate,
With love...
That which I have!
And I do
Too!
So appreciate You!
And 'all' that You do!
But,
'Why me for this task? '

I silence the thoughts,
Before they reach my lips!
Would I rather have God as my Guide,
And my Teacher?
Or would I rather let myself,
Be lead to indecision?
And become attracted to indeciveness...
And give up my needs
To seek what feeds me next and best!

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Breaking the silence

Shush! Silence
I'm breaking the silence
As I finish this sentence

Six months ago
My heart said yes
My head said no, go slow

In my silence I hid the truth, expressing fear
In my silence I hid my feelings, registering no care
In my silence I hid my thoughts, refusing to share
Any of my ideas

Prosperous is the silence
Abundance of it can turn life
Into a nasty experience

Shush! Silence
I'm breaking the silence
As I finish this sentence

Ceaselessly I've combated with my conscience
Endlessly in silence I exposed my defence
Allowing all to penetrate my territory without a valid licence
I should have said no with my voice
I should have asked why by making some noise

In silence I created an air of suspense
And they capitalised on it in my absence
In silence all my thoughts mingled
Some of which should have been singled

Shush! Silence
I'm breaking the silence
As I finish this sentence
Silence I demand
Give back to me my independence

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

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The Terminator

“I too am an immigrant’ he stated
when I came to Ameri ka
I had nothing “
He paused and sucked in air
adjusted the priceless tie at his bobbling apple
recommenced in his broken English
in the splendorous works
of a German Argonaut camera
“I want to forge a future in Kaleefornia”
he said with his square metal jaw
flexing at its hinge
and in that moment he was from Austria
standing on the frozen apron of a platform
where broken humans filed from trains
below him
with crossed arms holding shopping bags
or condemned children
and he swatted at them mentally
with a horse switch at his thigh
But the ones he addressed now
were not doomed peasants
or whitehaired bespectled rabbis
they were the trustees
the base of a ruthless corp
which should have been garbed
in black shirts and berets
and polished black jump boots
instead they wore Armani tailored suits
and sequined gowns and diamond tiaras
Prada shoes, sipped mixed drinks
and the waiter who hurried among them
had little time to listen or for that matter
understand
“ Ve have to gard owe borders” said the terminator
and I thought
“Obviously”

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The (Not-So-Great) Bailout of 2008

Gather round children,
as I tell the tale,
Of how all the banks
started to fail.
About how the government
bailed out the rich,
Rather than the poor,
which would have been a switch.

People were greedy,
for something called cash,
Brokers on Wall Street had plenty,
so what they did seems rash.
And so they started
robbing regular people blind.
That's how America (and the World)
got into a bind.

The banks began approving loans for homes,
to anyone who might need.
The value would go up,
and you could re-mortgage indeed.
People started spending
what they never had.
The way money was their religion
was awfully sad.

People would spend thousands of dollars,
On luxury items and diamond rings,
While poor children went without
food, braces and things.
The world was on a bubble
about to break.
Still banks pushed loans and investments
with ratings that were fake.

The economy crashed
like a run away train.
Regular people watched as their savings
and retirement went down the drain.
The president and congress
fearing another crash,
put together
a bailout plan fast.

They reasoned, if we don't fix the economy
the whole ship will sink.
'You don't understand, ' they claimed
the world is on the brink.
And so the government taught future generations,
handing (the rich) a bone,
That's it's okay to spend
more than you own.

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The Outcast's Farewell

The sun is banished,
The daylight vanished,
No rosy traces
Are left behind.
Here in the meadow
I watch the shadow
Of forms and faces
Upon your blind.

Through swift transitions,
In new positions,
My eyes still follow
One shape most fair.
My heart delaying
Awhile, is playing
With pleasures hollow,
Which mock despair.

I feel so lonely,
I long once only
To pass an hour
With you, O sweet!
To touch your fingers,
Where fragrance lingers
From some rare flower,
And kiss your feet.

But not this even
To me is given.
Of all sad mortals
Most sad am I,
Never to meet you,
Never to greet you,
Nor pass your portals
Before I die.

All men scorn me,
Not one will mourn me,
When from their city
I pass away.
Will you to-morrow
Recall with sorrow
Him whom with pity
You saw to-day?

Outcast and lonely,
One thing only
Beyond misgiving
I hold for true,
That, had you known me,
You would have shown me
A life worth living -
A life for you.

Yes: five years younger
My manhood's hunger
Had you come filling
With plenty sweet,
My life so nourished,
Had grown and flourished,
Had God been willing
That we should meet.

How vain to fashion
From dreams and passion
The rich existence
Which might have been!
Can God's own power
Recall the hour,
Or bridge the distance
That lies between?

Before the morning,
From pain and scorning
I sail death's river
To sleep or hell.
To you is given
The life of heaven.
Farewell for ever,
Farewell, farewell!

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Why For The Right Reasons

Why did you leave?
I ask why but receive no answer.
What was all the wrong reasons you left, because when you did you left a boy lonely and confused fending on only what he had, and what he has left; struggling to find himself.

So I ask again, but still no answer, for why would you leave when I needed you the most. Perhaps it was for selfish reasons, but choosing life or death we must consider which is easiest; because honestly many of us would have chosen the same. Death is easy, there is no more pain, no more hard-ache, no more troubles; Life is hard, filled with stress, head-aches on a day to day basis, its no wonder people sometimes are pushed... to the edge.

But this is not about other people, this is about you; for you taught me the dangers of the world but not all went threw. So I will ask you for a final time why did you leave? , you didn't just leave the world you left someone who needed you; ... who still does.

But because of what you taught me I hold no grudge against you, I love you, always have, always will. So now that you've been gone of course I've struggled, I've missed you, and because you left, I'm here fending for myself; lasting only so long before I'm forced to give in. But since you taught me of Him, I feel that I can last a lifetime; one of life, one with family with my sisters and brother, one due to the thanks of my wonderful mother; because what I now realize is that you never left for the wrong reasons, but because of all the right ones.

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Grassroots And By-Products Of The Ghetto

Suited with blessings I have been,
To live amongst 'my' people.
People others consider to be grassroots,
And by-products of the ghetto.

There is nothing like knowing,
An environment from its core.
Or a place and how it operates,
By the reflection of how the people are treated.

And when divisions and disrespect is shown,
Immediately I see and connect as to how this can exist.
Who allows it to happen.
And those if they wished...could have long prevented it.

Suited with blessings I have been,
To live amongst 'my' people.
People others consider to be grassroots,
And by-products of the ghetto.

There is nothing like knowing,
An environment from its core.
Or a place and how it operates,
By the reflection of how the people are treated.

And when divisions and disrespect is shown,
Immediately I see and connect as to how this can exist.
Who allows it to happen.
And those if they wished...could have long prevented it.

I also see the reasons why...
So many have sacrificed the giving of time and their lives,
To eventually walk away from that which has been cemented...
In minds wanting things to remain just the way they are.

'I'm not asking you to do 'as' I do.
You will do as I say you do,
In my home and I hope that is understood.
No one here seeks your judgement to pass.
Or have asked for it.

And how you handle your business,
May not be a wish how I will handle mine.
I am comfortable here if you're not go home.
To be or not to be as you choose.
I am not confused as to who I am.'

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The Right Way

Had enough of hard times
Foolin my babe
Had enough of hard times
Any old which way
Had enough of
Saying to my love
How could you babe
Get enough of this stuff
Fed up with hard times
Sick of the boss
n tell him
Get out my way
Sick of the boss
Just any old pay day
Laugh at them
When they say
Id better change
Pick up my dough
Yesn pay my own way
Fed up with hard times
Well in the land of desire
That wanton fire
Pretty little lips saying higher and higher
Love me
Lovin you the right way
Well in the land of fire
That wanton desire
Pretty little lips saying higher and higher
Love me
Lovin you the right way
Lovin you today
Nighttime lover
Smile on my face
In this world
Little girl
Know no disgrace
Lovers victim
If you lie to yourself
This love
One love
To love love love love love
Love you
Love youb aby
Be my sweet honey bee
Yeah
I glorify your face
Like I love rock and roll
I glorify your bod
Now lay down your soul
Would you change?
Oh I never change
But the way that you look
Yes I could love you
Love you oh alright
Love you baby ooh ooh
Love you ya thats right
Lovin you right way tonight
Love me
Love love love love love me
Be my sweet honey bee
In the land of desire
That wanton fire
Pretty little lips saying higher and higher
Love me
Lovin you the right way ooh
In the land of fire
Wanton desire
Pretty little lips saying higher
Love me
Love me baby alright
Lets rock ha ha
Lovin you the right way
Love
And my hearts on fire
Gonna be
Gotta be babe
Alright
In the arms of desire
Gonna be
Gotta be babe
Alright
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Gonna be, gotta be, babe
Well alright

song performed by Billy IdolReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
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