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I won't do something just for the sake of working.

quote by Juliette Binoche
Added by Lucian Velea
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Working For The Man

Roy orbison
Re-recorded version of 1987
----------------------------------
Hey now
You better listen to me every one of you
We got a lot of lot of lot of lot of work to do
Forget about your women
No, no water can
Today you're working for the man
Well pick up your feet
We got a deadline to meet
I'm gonna see you make it on time
Now, don't relax
I want elbows and backs
I wanna see everybody from behind
'cause you're working for the man
Working for the man
Gotta make him a hand
When you're working for the man
Well i'm pickin' em' up
And i'm layin' 'em down
I believe he's gonna work me into the ground
I pulled to the left, and i heaved to the right
I wanna kill him but it wouldn't be right
'cause i'm working for the man
Working for the man
Gotta make him a hand
When you're working for the man
Well the bossman's daughter sneaks me water
Everytime her daddy's down the line
She says "meet me tonight,
Love me right
And everyting's gonna be fine."
So i slave all day, without much pay
I'm just abiding my time
'cause the company and the daughter, you see
They both gonna be all mine
Yeah i'm gonna be the man
Gonna be the man
Gotta make him a hand
If you gonna be the man
Working for the man
Working for the man
Gotta make him a hand
When you're working for the man
Working for the man
Working for the man
Original version
------------------------
Hey now

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song performed by Roy Orbison
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Love Working On You

(jim collins/craig wiseman)
You woke up this morning
Changes were taking place
You looked in the mirror
A smile was all over your face
cause out of nowhere
Someone was there
Who dared to climb
Those walls you made
Its exciting, a little frightening
But girl dont you be afraid
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Cant even remember
All the sorrow that you left behind
Its a brand new day
Theres a bright new way
And your tears have turned into wine
You never forget
When your eyes met
Or just how clearly you could see
Where the turns are deep in your heart
That lead you to believe
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
All of the while you felt forsaken
And all of the while
Loves been waiting, waiting
Suddenly you see how it could be
If we all only felt this way
And for a while girl you can see this world
Looking through the eyes of fate
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through

song performed by John Michael Montgomery
Added by Lucian Velea
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Art For Arts Sake

Gimme your body
Gimme your mind
Open your heart
Pull down the blind
Gimme your love gimme it all
Gimme in the kitchen gimme in the hall
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Gimme the readys
Gimme the cash
Gimme a bullet
Gimme a smash
Gimme a silver gimme a gold
Make it a million for when I get old
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Money talks so listen to it
Money talks to me
Anyone can understand it
Money cant be beat oh no
When you get down, down to the root
Dont give a damn dont give a hoot
Still gotta keep makin the loot
Chauffeur driven
Gotta make her quick as you can
Give her lovin make you a man
Get her in the palm of your hand
Bread from heaven
Gimme a country
Where I can be free
Dont need the unions
Strangling me
Keep me in exile the rest of my days
Burn me in hell but as long as it pays
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake

song performed by 10 Cc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

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poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Ballad of Burial

If down here I chance to die,
Solemnly I beg you take
All that is left of "I"
To the Hills for old sake's sake,
Pack me very thoroughly
In the ice that used to slake
Pegs I drank when I was dry --
This observe for old sake's sake.

To the railway station hie,
There a single ticket take
For Umballa -- goods-train -- I
Shall not mind delay or shake.
I shall rest contentedly
Spite of clamor coolies make;
Thus in state and dignity
Send me up for old sake's sake.

Next the sleepy Babu wake,
Book a Kalka van "for four."
Few, I think, will care to make
Journeys with me any more
As they used to do of yore.
I shall need a "special" break --
Thing I never took before --
Get me one for old sake's sake.

After that -- arrangements make.
No hotel will take me in,
And a bullock's back would break
'Neath the teak and leaden skin
Tonga ropes are frail and thin,
Or, did I a back-seat take,
In a tonga I might spin, --
Do your best for old sake's sake.

After that -- your work is done.
Recollect a Padre must
Mourn the dear departed one --
Throw the ashes and the dust.
Don't go down at once. I trust
You will find excuse to "snake
Three days' casual on the bust."
Get your fun for old sake's sake.

I could never stand the Plains.
Think of blazing June and May
Think of those September rains
Yearly till the Judgment Day!
I should never rest in peace,

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poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Clampdown

Taking off his turban they said is this man a jew
Cause theyre working for the clampdown
And they put up a poster saying we earn more than you
When were working for the clampdown
We will teach our twisted speech
To the young believers
Train our blue-eyed men
To be young believers
Judge said five to ten - I said double that again
Im not working for the clampdown
Well no one born with a living soul
Could be working for the clampdown
Kick over the wall cause governments to fall
How can you refuse it
Let fury have the hour, anger can be power
Dont you know that you can use it
The voices in your head are calling
Stop wasting your time theres nothing coming
Only a fool would think someone could save you
The men at the factory are old and cunning
You dont owe nothing so boy get running
Its the best years of your life they want to steal
You grow up and you calm down
Cause youre working for the clampdown
And you start wearing the blue and the brown
Cause youre working for the clampdown
So you got someone to boss around
Does it makes you feel big now
And you drift until you brutalize
Youve made your first kill now
I say in these days of evil presidentes
Working for the clampdown
I said lately one or two have fully paid their dues
Working for the clampdown
Working for the clampdown
Hey you are now
Working for the clampdown
Hey you are now
(working for the clampdown)
Kick over the wall (working for the clampdown)
Cause governments to fall (working for the clampdown)
How can you refuse it (working for the clampdown)
Hey get along now
(working for the clampdown)
Giving away no secrets

song performed by Indigo Girls
Added by Lucian Velea
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No More Chain Gang

He was black and handsome
And mighty mighty brave
Comin from the backwoods
The grandson of a slave
He was caught for something
They knew hed never done
And he was diggin ditches
Out in the burnin sun
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
No more, no more, no more
Man he was a giant
And iron he could bend
And he swore hed fight them
Down to the bitter end
Though he was no talker
His burnin eyes would say
You may keep on tryin
Cant hold me no way
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
No more, no more, no more
And one night he lay in waiting
Hit the guard and took the key
And before the others caught him
He jumped out and he was free
He jumped out and he was free
He made for the swamp lands
It seemed a hopeless duel
They had dogs and shotguns
And they were mighty cruel
But they couldnt find him
He was too smart and strong
Hiding in the daytime
Wandering all night long
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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For Old Times Sake

Lets make love for old times sake.
Lets set right an old mistake.
Lets invite our hearts to break.
Its right tonight, but just for old times sake.
Remember you as mars, and me as venus.
Strange to see the grey in your hair.
And now to feel a peace so deep between us,
And to realize that we still care.
Lets make love for old times sake.
Lets set right an old mistake.
Lets invite our hearts to break.
Its right tonight, but just for old times sake.
I used to think we would wind up together,
Our destinies always entwined.
Oh, but your heart kept changing like the weather,
And you wound up leaving me behind.
Lets make love for old times sake.
Lets set right an old mistake.
Lets invite our hearts to break.
Its right tonight, but just for old times sake.
Lets make love for old times sake.
Lets set right an old mistake.
Lets invite our hearts to break.
Its right tonight, but just for old times sake.
Its right tonight, yeah,
But just for old times sake...
Its right tonight for old times sake.
For old times sake.
Old times sake...

song performed by Carly Simon
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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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hats

Amy grant/chris eaton
Copyright 1991 age to age music, inc. (ascap)/clouseau music ltd. (prs), adm. by reunion music group, inc.
The sun comes up
The breakfast show
Cant you see me running
Its crazy dont you know?
(dont you know? dont you know? )
The moon is high
Im working through the night
Will somebody tell me
Where do all the hours go?
(I dont know.)
Well it dont stop
No, its never gonna stop
Why do I have to wear so many things on my head?
Hats!
One day Im a mother
One day Im a lover
What am I supposed to do?
Hats!
Working for a livin
(working for a livin)
All because Im driven
(all because Im driven)
To be the very best for you.
The water is hot
(so hot)
The phone dont stop
(hello, good-bye)
So how do I manage
To hold on to my sanity
(I dont know, baby, I dont know)
The red dress on
Time for having fun
(time for having fun)
But can I really be
The girl you see in me?
The spirit is willing
But the flesh is weak
Why do I have to wear so many things on my head?
Hats!
One day Im a mother
(one day Im a mother)
One day Im a lover
(one day Im a lover)
What am I supposed to do?
Hats!
Working for a livin
(working for a livin)
All because Im driven

[...] Read more

song performed by Amy Grant
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How Are You?

By cheap trick
Hello
How are you?
Howd you sleep last night?
Did you dream of me all night?
How are you?
Wake up
Good morning
You shouldnt sleep all day
Such a beautiful day
How are you?
Good morning
Whats with you?
How could you?
I heard your voice
I couldnt stand it
You know you talk too much
You even scare my friends
Whats with you?
The world you said
I know youre lying
You lie in bed
You lie, you lie
You lie there crying
Whats with you?
How could you?
Why did you?
Hey, hey
I said its alright
Come on, come on
Ive been working all night
Hey, hey
I said its okay
Come on, come on
Ive been working all day
Working all day, hey!
Hello
How are you?
I couldnt sleep last night
I dreamed of you all night
Good morning
Get up
I know youre lying
You lie in bed
You lie, you lie
You lie there crying
Whats with you?
How could you?
Why did you?
Hey, hey

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song performed by Cheap Trick
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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
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Chain Gang Medley

Chain Gang - Written by - Sam Cooke
He Don't Love You - Written by - J. Butler, C. Mayfield & C. Carter
Searchin' - Written by - Jerry Leiber & Mike Stoller
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
All day long they work so hard till the sun is goin' down
Working on the highways and byways and wearin', wearin' a frown
Hear them moanin' their lives away
Then you hear somebody say
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
He don't love you, like I love you
If he did he wouldn't break your heart
He don't love you, like I love you
He's trying to tear us apart
Gonna find her, I'm gonna find her, I'm gonna find her
Oh, if I have to climb a mountain, you know I will
And if I have to swim a river, you know I will
And I might find her hidin' up on Blueberry Hill
How am I gonna find her, child, you know I will
Cause I'm goin' searchin'
I'm goin' searchin'
Searchin' everywhere
Just like some Northwest Mountie
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
All day long they work so hard till the sun is goin' down
Working on the highways and byways and wearin', wearin' a frown
Hear them moanin' their lives away
Then you hear somebody say
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang (5 x's)

song performed by Jim Croce
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stop writing Literature, You garrulous Indian

a life of toil for the man in the centre
a hub in the peripheral tireless wheel

where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man

no words cling now no words meant in blame
the tongue he lash the words they now tame

no shock of blast open laughter rock the hall
everyman there say there sure were a man

a man no fear cowed in communion to other
made for no gods made for no demons either

all men he know best when he see just once
no second thought resurrect the man if bad

so go tell the magi no trek in sight in sky
here a man be born here he so sure die

other no like see one so bright stand up high
other no like feel like sky fall low into ocean

what make ‘m i say with feeling so just
is sure he different he force hisself work

work work work work an' again work
he work nite an' nite so 50-hour in day

where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man

where you go from word born here now
turn and twist all whoring the alphabet

‘don't write anything you can get published'
so publish only what you can't call your own

writing like reading's a public coital act
so showing your work is exhibitionism

‘why don't you send your stuff around
keeping it to yourself's sheer masturbation'

reading-watching-listening's just voyeurism
so sending wares around is prostitutionism

where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man

[...] Read more

poem by T. Wignesan
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III. The Other Half-Rome

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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People In The City

P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
On the sidewalk (people in the city)
Near the street lamp (people in the city)
At the bus stop (people in the city)
Down the station (people in the city)
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling.

song performed by Air
Added by Lucian Velea
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Working On It

Oh how Id love it girl, just you and me
Take the day and fly
But oh this job, its got the best of me
Tell you why, tell you why
Somebody above is in a desperate state
Some kind of urgency, the kind that wont wait
I say tomorrow, he say today
And the man in my head well he tell me no way
Keep working
I got eight little fingers and only two thumbs
Will you leave me in peace while I get the work done
Cant you see Im working
Oh, oh Im working on it
Oh, oh Im working on it
Well theyre coming from above me
And theyre coming from below
Yea theyre in there right behind me
Everywhere that I go
And my buddy, hes screaming down the telephone line
He say gimme, gimme, gimme
I say I aint got the time
Oh, oh cant you see Im working on it
Oh, oh Im working on it
Yea, yea, oh tell em
How Id love it girl, just you and me
Take the day and fly
But oh, this job its got the best of me
Tell you why
Well theyre coming from above me
And theyre coming from below
Yea theyre in there right behind me
Everywhere that I go
My buddy, hes screaming down the telephone line
He say gimme, gimme, gimme
I say I aint got the time
Oh, oh cant you see Im working on it
Oh, oh Im working on it
Oh, oh Im working
Oh, oh cant you see Im working on it

song performed by Chris Rea
Added by Lucian Velea
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Got My Mojo Working

Hands off of her, she belongs to me
Mojo working don't belong to you
Well, she's mine all mine no matter what you do
Play it boys, play it boys
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
But you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Let me tell you now
She's long lean and lanky, sweet as she can be
Hands off of her, she belongs to me
Hands off of her' don't belong to you
Well she's mine all mine no matter what you do
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
Well you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Play it Jerry, play it ........
No matter what you do, play it son
Well she's long lean and lanky, sweet as she can be
Hands off of her unless you want to deal with me
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
Well you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Yeah!
I got my mojo workin' I got my mojo workin'
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
Well, you're mine all mine no matter what you do
She's long lean and lanky, sweet as she can be
Hands off of her, she belongs to me
Hands off of her' don't belong to you
Well you're mine all mine no matter what you do
One more time!
Yeah!
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
Well, you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Listen to me now
I said you're long lean and lanky cute as you can be
Hands off of her unless you want deal with me
Get your hands off of her, she don't belong to you
Well, you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Yeah, I got my mojo workin' I got my mojo workin'
I got my mojo workin' I got my mojo workin'
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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