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I was publishing when I was 20, 21. And it really never stopped.

quote by Daniel Berrigan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Unfaithful To Myself (Beware. Beware!)

When I ran away,
I thought that I would stay...
Where it was,
I chose to be.

When I ran away,
It was from myself...
And,
I was not that able...
To remain unfaithful.

I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.

When I ran away,
It was from myself...
And,
I was not able...
To remain unfaithful.

Oh, when I ran away,
I thought that I would stay...
Where it was,
I chose to be.
But...
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.

I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
Yes,
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
With a feeding of myself wrong beliefs...
That other people made me bleed.
But it wasn't other people it was me.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Strange

Strange, how you stopped loving me!
How you stopped needing me!
When you came along, oh how strange!
Strange, how you stopped loving me!
How you stopped needing me!
When you came along, oh how strange!
Strange, you change like night and day
Just stopped and walked away
When you came along, oh how strange!
Well I guess that I was meant to be
A puppet on a string
To think I found you really love me
Look what love can bring
Strange, youre still in all my dreams
Oh what a foolish me
I still care for you, oh how strange!
How strange!
Well I guess that I was meant to be
A puppet on a string
To think I found you really love me
Look what love can bring
Strange, how you stopped loving me!
How you stopped needing me!
When you came along, oh how strange!
Strange, you change like night and day
Just stopped and walked away
When you came along, oh how strange!
Strange, youre still in all my dreams
Oh what a foolish me
I still care for you, oh how strange!
Well I guess that I was meant to be
A puppet on a string
To think I found you really love me
Look what love can bring
Strange, youre still in all my dreams
Oh what a foolish me
I still care for you, oh how strange!
Strange, how you stopped loving me!
How you stopped needing me!
When you came along, oh how strange!
Strange, youre still in all my dreams
Oh what a foolish me
I still care for you, oh...

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Will I See You Again

In the dark
Im lying all alone
I just wonder where you are
But I know that you will come
That youll be there
Ive got to walk this lonesome road
To get this of my head
Ive got no time for the living dead
So, Im taking off for higher ground
To get you off my back
You know, you gotta cut me some slack
cause now Im ready to go, I cant be stopped
Im ready to go, I cant be stopped
cause now Im ready to go, I cant be stopped
Im ready to go, I cant be stopped
Will I see you again
I didnt have the chance to say, Im sorry
Will I see you again
This is more than I can take (from you)
A bottle of moonshine in the evening
And the daymare starts to fade
Now Ive got time for the weekend raid
Im on my own and I cant stay bored,
Ive passed that river long ago
Im not sure Im your friend or foe
cause now Im ready to go, I cant be stopped
Im ready to go, I cant be stopped
cause now Im ready to go, I cant be stopped
Im ready to go, I cant be stopped
Will I see you again
I didnt have the chance to say, Im sorry
Will I see you again
This is more than I can take (from you)
Ive got to clear my head

song performed by E-type
Added by Lucian Velea
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Can It Be Stopped

Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.

Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.

Can it be dropped.
Can it be stopped.

Hoodwinkers on the loose.
Hoodwinkers out to dupe too!
And...
Can they be stooped.

Crooked people after loot,
Proving they can low stoop.
But...
Can they can they dropp it.
Can they be stopped.
Can they can they dropp it.
Can they be stopped.

Hoodwinkers on the loose,
Stooping low as they choose.
Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.
Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.
Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Around And Around

I say the joint was rockin'
a goin' 'round and round
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
Well they never stopped rockin' till the moon went down
Twelve o'clock
Well the place as packed
Front doors was locked
Well the place was packed
When the police knocked
Both doors flew back
But they kept on rocking
Rockin' Going 'Round and around
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
A well they never stopped rockin' till the moon went down
Oh it sounds so sweet I gotta take me a chance
Rose out of my seat I just had to dance
Started movin' my feet well a clappin' my hands
Well the joint started
Rockin' Going 'Round and around
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
A well they never stopped rockin' till the moon went down
Twelve o'clock
Well the place as packed
Oh twelve o'clock
Well the place was packed
When the police knocked
Ouh Both doors flew back
Mama they kept on rocking
Rockin' Going 'Round and around
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
They never stopped never stopped never stopped never stopped never stopped
rockin' till the moon went down
( Repeat 'til the end

song performed by Led Zeppelin
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I've Stopped Mistaking My Life

I’ve stopped mistaking my life
for evidence I exist.
I’ve stopped watering
palm-trees in a mirage.
I’m leaking out of myself
like sand through a crack
in a wounded hourglass.
I’ve stopped doing my time
standing up
and approach things more
like a circle
that’s been squared
by a reclusive hypotenuse.
I’ve stopped asking
how many legs are on a snake
or what does it mean
when things don’t mean anything.
For all the auditions I held
I never did find a stand-in
for the meaning of meaning.
I can hear crutches breaking
like dead branches
from the tree of knowledge
that rails like an ice-storm in hell
there’s no light for its chandeliers.
How many voices are in a secret?
How many theories in a thought?
How many lovers had to die
to keep one feeling alive?
I deserted the circus of high ideals.
I unfeathered my heels
and stopped trying to invent
new alphabets that would read like birds
before the first snow.
When you’re everywhere
there’s nowhere left to go.
I stopped telling time to its face
what hour it was and wasn’t
and started listening to it
as if it had nothing to say.
I stopped asking space for i.d.
and it stopped showing me
an old picture of me
with one eye.
A voice spoke
out of the purposeless undoing of the fire
and everything went up like smoke
trying to get a little higher.
I wasn’t on a mission
to save the souls of the trees

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Cant Be Stopped

Nothings gonna stop us
We cant be stopped
I know that its not been easy
Trying to make it in this crazy world
People round you try to stop you
Stomp you saying that you dont belong
You must remember that
We were born with blood of kings and queens
And cant be stopped
Stay stronger my sister you cant be stopped
No, you cant be stopped
I know that sometimes
You get to feelin Ive given up on you
The pressure seems to, to defeat you
Beat you when you feel you cant go on
You must remember that
You were born with blood of kings and queens
And cant be stopped
Stay stronger my brother you cant be stopped
No, you cant be stopped
Dont ever let nobody tell you you aint strong enough
Strong enough, dont let nobody tell you you aint
Strong enough, dont let nobody tell you
You know that I will be right here
To remind you that we need
Togetherness, cause lost pride
Has no room, if you dont forget
Where you come from

song performed by Janet Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ive Never Stopped Dreaming Of You

(j. l. wallace, terry skinner)
Ive forgotten your number
I hadnt called in a while
And Im slowly forgetting your funny little smile
Ive even stopped missing
The love that we knew
But Ive never stopped dreaming of you
Ive lost all the memories
The feel of your touch
And its left my mind why I loved you so much
Ive even forgotten who walked out on who
But Ive never stopped dreaming of you
Chorus:
Ive never stopped seeing your face every night
I see it each time that I close my eyes
And times heal the memories
Of the pain I went through
But Ive never stopped dreaming of you
Ive misplaced all the trinkets
That you told me to keep
And its been such a long time
Since Ive lost any sleep
Now Im doing just fine
With somebody new
But Ive never stopped dreaming of you
Repeat chorus
No Ive never stopped dreaming of you

song performed by Reba Mcentire
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Flight of the Duchess

I

You're my friend:
I was the man the Duke spoke to;
I helped the Duchess to cast off his yoke, too;
So here's the tale from beginning to end,
My friend!

II

Ours is a great wild country:
If you climb to our castle's top,
I don't see where your eye can stop;
For when you've passed the cornfield country,
Where vineyards leave off, flocks are packed,
And sheep-range leads to cattle-tract,
And cattle-tract to open-chase,
And open-chase to the very base
Of the mountain where, at a funeral pace,
Round about, solemn and slow,
One by one, row after row,
Up and up the pine-trees go,
So, like black priests up, and so
Down the other side again
To another greater, wilder country,
That's one vast red drear burnt-up plain,
Branched through and through with many a vein
Whence iron's dug, and copper's dealt;
Look right, look left, look straight before—
Beneath they mine, above they smelt,
Copper-ore and iron-ore,
And forge and furnace mould and melt,
And so on, more and ever more,
Till at the last, for a bounding belt,
Comes the salt sand hoar of the great sea shore
—And the whole is our Duke's country.

III

I was born the day this present Duke was—
(And O, says the song, ere I was old!)
In the castle where the other Duke was—
(When I was happy and young, not old!)
I in the kennel, he in the bower:
We are of like age to an hour.
My father was huntsman in that day;
Who has not heard my father say
That, when a boar was brought to bay,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from Dramatic Romances and Lyrics (1845)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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Manifesting In Arrested Sleep

Left behind.
Most have jumped into safety nets.
Held by clinging vines.

And time has stopped.
Minds are blocked.
Onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.

And time has stopped.
Minds are blocked.
Onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.

Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.

And onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.

Left behind.
Most have jumped into safety nets.
Held by clinging vines.
And onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.

Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
And onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.

Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
And onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.

Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Flight Of The Duchess, The

I.

You're my friend:
I was the man the Duke spoke to;
I helped the Duchess to cast off his yoke, too;
So here's the tale from beginning to end,
My friend!

II.

Ours is a great wild country:
If you climb to our castle's top,
I don't see where your eye can stop;
For when you've passed the cornfield country,
Where vineyards leave off, flocks are packed,
And sheep-range leads to cattle-tract,
And cattle-tract to open-chase,
And open-chase to the very base
Of the mountain where, at a funeral pace,
Round about, solemn and slow,
One by one, row after row,
Up and up the pine-trees go,
So, like black priests up, and so
Down the other side again
To another greater, wilder country,
That's one vast red drear burnt-up plain,
Branched through and through with many a vein
Whence iron's dug, and copper's dealt;
Look right, look left, look straight before,---
Beneath they mine, above they smelt,
Copper-ore and iron-ore,
And forge and furnace mould and melt,
And so on, more and ever more,
Till at the last, for a bounding belt,
Comes the salt sand hoar of the great sea-shore,
---And the whole is our Duke's country.

III.

I was born the day this present Duke was---
(And O, says the song, ere I was old!)
In the castle where the other Duke was---
(When I was happy and young, not old!)
I in the kennel, he in the bower:
We are of like age to an hour.
My father was huntsman in that day;
Who has not heard my father say
That, when a boar was brought to bay,
Three times, four times out of five,
With his huntspear he'd contrive

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning
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Daddy What If?

(Daddy what if the sun stop shinin' what would happen then?)
If the sun stopped shinin' you'd be so surprised
You'd stare at the heavens with wide open eyes
And the wind would carry your light to the skies
And the sun would start shinin' again
(Daddy what if the wind stopped blowin' what would happen then?)
If the wind stopped blowin' then the land would be dry
And your boat wouldn't sail son and your kite wouldn't fly
And the grass would see your troubles and she'd tell the wind
And the wind would start blowin' again
(But daddy what if the grass stopped growin' what would happen then?)
If the grass stopped growin' why you'd probably cry
And the ground would be watered by the tears from your eyes
And like your love for me the grass would grow so high
Yes the grass would start growin' again
(But daddy what if I stopped lovin' you what would happen then?)
If you stopped lovin' me then the grass would stop growin'
The sun would stop shinin' and the wind would stop blowin'
So you see if you wanna keep this old world a goin'
You better start lovin' me again again you better start lovin' me again
You hear me Bobby you better start lovin' me again
You love me Bobby you better start lovin' me again

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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All the music was stopped! !

All da music was stopped
Brought hour to halt
Spookiness prevailed everywhere
Ghosts moving here n there
No sign of life
All da music was stopped
Ppl stopped walking
N I was moving
Feet were tired
Eyes were cruel
There was nobody to save me
I was stopped
All da music was stopped
It tuk away my walk
Heels were high
But peek was low
All da glitter was gone
Wid da mist of his bones
All da music was stopped
Brought hour to halt

poem by Somia Race
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Sixth Book

THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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The Cremona Violin

Part First

Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door.
A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind
Swirled through the trees, and scattered leaves before
Her on the clean, flagged path. The sky behind
The distant town was black, and sharp defined
Against it shone the lines of roofs and towers,
Superimposed and flat like cardboard flowers.

A pasted city on a purple ground,
Picked out with luminous paint, it seemed. The cloud
Split on an edge of lightning, and a sound
Of rivers full and rushing boomed through bowed,
Tossed, hissing branches. Thunder rumbled loud
Beyond the town fast swallowing into gloom.
Frau Altgelt closed the windows of each room.

She bustled round to shake by constant moving
The strange, weird atmosphere. She stirred the fire,
She twitched the supper-cloth as though improving
Its careful setting, then her own attire
Came in for notice, tiptoeing higher and higher
She peered into the wall-glass, now adjusting
A straying lock, or else a ribbon thrusting

This way or that to suit her. At last sitting,
Or rather plumping down upon a chair,
She took her work, the stocking she was knitting,
And watched the rain upon the window glare
In white, bright drops. Through the black glass a flare
Of lightning squirmed about her needles. 'Oh!'
She cried. 'What can be keeping Theodore so!'

A roll of thunder set the casements clapping.
Frau Altgelt flung her work aside and ran,
Pulled open the house door, with kerchief flapping
She stood and gazed along the street. A man
Flung back the garden-gate and nearly ran
Her down as she stood in the door. 'Why, Dear,
What in the name of patience brings you here?

Quick, Lotta, shut the door, my violin
I fear is wetted. Now, Dear, bring a light.
This clasp is very much too worn and thin.
I'll take the other fiddle out to-night
If it still rains. Tut! Tut! my child, you're quite
Clumsy. Here, help me, hold the case while I -
Give me the candle. No, the inside's dry.

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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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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Round And Round

Well, the joint was rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down
Well it sounded so sweet
I had to take me a chance
I rose out of my seat
And had to dance
I started moving my feet
And clapping my hands
Yeah, we kept on rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down
About twelve o'clock
When the place was packed
The front doors were locked
I said the place was packed
When the police knocked
Those doors flew back
But kept on rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down
Yeah
About twelve o'clock
Around lock up time
Well, the doors were locked
Said the place was packed
When the police knocked
Those doors flew back
But it kept on rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down
Yeah, it kept on rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Round & Round

Well, the joint was rocking
Going round n round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
til the moon went down
Well it sounded so sweet
I had to take me a chance
I rose out of my seat
And had to dance
I started moving my feet
And clapping my hands
Yeah, we kept on rocking
Going round n round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
til the moon went down
About twelve oclock
When the place was packed
The front doors were locked
I said the place was packed
When the police knocked
Those doors flew back
But kept on rocking
Going round n round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
til the moon went down
Yeah
About twelve oclock
Around lock up time
Well, the doors were locked
Said the place was packed
When the police knocked
Those doors flew back
But it kept on rocking
Going round n round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
til the moon went down
Yeah, it kept on rocking
Going round n round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
til the moon went down

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!