And it's sad because it's like a surprise to people - almost an anomaly - when artists are actually refined and trained on an instrument. That's the last thing people think about.
quote by Vanessa Carlton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Why Must I Be Sad?
No more mister nice guy
I love the dead
Ive been thinking about it
Now I understand what he said
Ask me now
I understand the words that alice said
I kick the rocks beneath me
I squint at the sun
Sad, sad, sad, sad
Why must I be sad?
The rows of dandelions growing all around me
Why must I be sad? (sad, sad, sad)
(sad, sad, sad)
No one knows these things but me and him
So Im writing everything down in a spiral notebook
In the hopes that one day
Other people will feel as low as this
Ask me now
I understand the words that alice said
I kick the rocks beneath me
I squint at the sun
Sad, sad, sad, sad
Why must I be sad?
The rows of dandelions growing all around me
Why must I be sad? (sad, sad, sad)
No more mister nice guy
I love the dead
Ive been thinking about it
Now I understand what he said
Ask me now
I understand the words that alice said
I kick the rocks beneath me
I squint at the sun
Sad, sad, sad, sad
Why must I be sad?
The rows of dandelions growing all around me
Why must I be sad? (welcome to my nightmare / dead)
Why must I be sad? (babies / raped and freezin / you)
Why must I be sad? (drive me nervous / elected /)
Why must I be sad? (generation landslide / un)
Why must I be sad? (der my wheels / muscle of love /)
Why must I be sad? (schools out / only women bleed /)
Why must I be sad? (billion dollar babies)
Why must I be sad? (sad, sad, sad)
(sad, sad, sad)
(sad, sad, sad)
(sad, sad)
song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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The One
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one again
No surprise
You wanna be the one
Heard you had a story to tell
Sold your soul in a kiss and tell
Sliding down on a helter skelter ride
Into yesterday
No way out, the price of fame
Once its told will you be the same
Rolling down on a roller coaster ride
Well be waiting for you
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one again
No surprise
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one
No surprise
You wanna be the one
Shock the world with your fall from grace
Glory days gone without a trace
No surprise youre a face without a name
But we all still love you
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one again
No surprise
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one
No surprise
You wanna be the one
Its time to tell you
Were faithful and true
Take us back to the days
When we could dream
cos it makes us happy
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one again
No surprise
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one
No surprise
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one again
No surprise
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one
No surprise
No surprise
Hey that you wanna be the one
song performed by Moody Blues
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Next Generation
(STARDATE 45122.3. The sensors aboard the Starship Enterprise have detected a subspace anomaly. The nature of the anomaly is as yet unknown, but Commander Data has reported a slight drain on the warp core generator. Captain Jean Luc Picard has alerted the senior crew members to keep him informed of any changes and meanwhile continue on course to the colony on Aldebaran III)
“It must mean we’re really getting old when the only thing we talk about is television, ” I say to Bobby. He sits across from me, the flickering colors from the TV screen playing across his face, the dim light illuminating the room like a lunar landscape.
We are watching episode #232 of ‘Star Trek: The Next Generation.’ There are no more new episodes. We have seen this episode before, but we are watching it because it’s better than not watching it. We watch it at the same time every night. We are watching it because we are addicted to its predictable action, its monotone dialog, its hypnotic cinematography. We watch it because we have seen so many episodes that we know all the characters, their life histories, their personal characteristics, their predilections and idiosyncrasies, better than we know some of our own family members.
(Commander Data has been experimenting with oil painting. All of his subjects appear to be meticulously drawn but do not express feeling. Ship’s Counselor Deanna Troi suggests that he attempt abstract art to explore his subjective experience.
Their conversation is interrupted, however, by a message from the bridge. The subspace anomaly has greatly increased in both its size and intensity. If it continues to grow at its present rate the Enterprise will soon be in danger of being drawn into it and being destroyed.)
I feel that my life is slipping away, that I am trapped, helpless, in a void of television shows, TV dinners, and a routine of daily activity, doing the same thing at the same time each day, that makes the days go by as quickly and painlessly as possible. I feel that each week that passes is a week that I will never have again. That I am dying, slowly, the life energy being sucked out of me, a little bit each hour, each day, in a plethora of ‘Seinfeld, ’ ‘Friends’, ‘The X-Files, ” and ‘Star Trek: The Next Generation.’ That I am caught in a time warp and slowly and inexorably being drawn into its vortex.
{The subspace anomaly continues to grow and to draw energy from the Starship’s warp core generator.
“Shields at 14 per cent, ” says Commander Worf.
“At this rate the Enterprise will be destroyed in 13 hours,28 minutes, and 32 seconds, ” says Data.)
Somehow I’ve got to escape from this, to rejoin the flow of humanity, to begin my life once more. If only I could meet the person, write the poem, sing the song, paint the painting. If only I could break the cycle. But it’s too safe remaining here. And I use television like a drug, insulating me from my own feelings, insulating me from my own sense of loss, substituting instead the fictitious emotions of fictitious characters, lived vicariously at the same time each day, with a standardized format designed to keep the self distant, removed, safe, anaesthetized from the pain of indirect living.
Bobby says, “You really know you’ve been watching too much television when everything on the cable is a re-run.”
(Captain’s Log Supplemental: The Enterprise has escaped from the subspace anomaly with 1.4 seconds to spare. The senior officers on the bridge look at each other with a sigh of relief.
“Ensign, lay in a course for Star Base 67, bearing 6571, mark 82, warp six, ” says Picard.
“Engage! ”)
poem by Theresa Haffner
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Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book II.
The Argument
Solomon, again seeking happiness, inquires if wealth and greatness can produce it: begins with the magnificence of gardens and buildings; the luxury of music and feasting; and proceeds to the hopes and desires of love. In two episodes are shown the follies and troubles of that passion. Solomon, still disappointed, falls under the temptations of libertinism and idolatry; recovers his thought; reasons aright; and concludes that, as to the pursuit of pleasure and sensual delight, All Is Vanity and Vexation of Spirit.
Try then, O man, the moments to deceive
That from the womb attend thee to the grave:
For wearied Nature find some apter scheme;
Health be thy hope, and pleasure be thy theme;
From the perplexing and unequal ways
Where Study brings thee from the endless maze
Which Doubt persuades o run, forewarn'd, recede
To the gay field, and flowery path, that lead
To jocund mirth, soft joy, and careless ease:
Forsake what my instruct for what may please:
Essay amusing art and proud expense,
And make thy reason subject to thy sense.
I communed thus: the power of wealth I tried,
And all the various luxe of costly pride;
Artists and plans relieved my solemn hours:
I founded palaces and planted bowers,
Birds, fishes, beasts, of exotic kind
I to the limits of my court confined,
To trees transferr'd I gave a second birth,
And bade a foreign shade grace Judah's earth.
Fish-ponds were made where former forests grew
And hills were levell'd to extend the view.
Rivers, diverted from their native course,
And bound with chains of artificial force,
From large cascades in pleasing tumult roll'd,
Or rose through figured stone or breathing gold.
From furthest Africa's tormented womb
The marble brought, erects the spacious dome,
Or forms the pillars' long-extended rows,
On which the planted grove and pensile garden grows.
The workmen here obey the master's call,
To gild the turret and to paint the wall;
To mark the pavement there with various stone,
And on the jasper steps to rear the throne:
The spreading cedar, that an age had stood,
Supreme of trees, and mistress of the wood,
Cut down and carved, my shining roof adorns,
And Lebanon his ruin'd honour mourns.
A thousand artists show their cunning powers
To raise the wonders of the ivory towers:
A thousand maidens ply the purple loom
[...] Read more
poem by Matthew Prior
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Sad But The Truth Is On
There are too many bold,
Sad but the truth is on.
And too may all-knowing for their teachers.
Sad but the truth is on.
And they say their teachers can't teach,
Or read, or write to them...
On their lowered levels.
Sad but the truth is on.
Sad but the truth is on.
Many never knew about a hug to touch.
Sad but the truth is on.
There's just too many needing loving.
Sad but the truth is on.
And they don't believe a lesson taught to them,
Reveals and begins to grow to show.
Sad but the truth is on.
It's so sad but the truth is on.
It's so sad about the truth!
The truth for so many has gone.
It's so sad to see it...
Nonexisting.
Sad but the truth is on.
It's so sad but the truth is on.
It's sad about the truth,
Today!
For so many that truth is gone.
It's so sad today...
That,
People sit back to watch it too!
Sad but the truth is on.
It's so sad but the truth is on.
Everybody's talking about a fairness.
But nothing there is fair.
Sad but the truth is on.
Sad but the truth is on.
And,
Everything once fair there is gone.
'Cause nothing in the air is fair there!
Everybody's talking about a fairness.
But nothing there is fair.
And,
Everything once fair there is gone.
Because nothing in the air is fair,
There!
Sad but the truth is on.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sad In Blue (a lyric)
Sad sad sad in blue
For sad sad sad you
The moon is all bluish tonight
The night is all dark out side
Nowhere to run
Sad sad sad in blue
Into the night hold me tight
Love me babe I need some light
What's wrong and what's right
When shadows dwell and abide
Sad sad sad in blue
For sad sad sad you
The moon is all bluish tonight
Is there some star shoot in sight
To wish upon
For sad sad sad you
Into the night take a flight
Feelings, touch, everything out sight
Love me with feelings ok
Come come babe now closer stay
Sad sad sad in blue
For sad sad sad you
The moon is all bluish tonight
Is there some star shoot in sight
To wish upon
For sad sad sad you
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Washed Away Under Work Loads
artists feel frustrated
when achieving not
when producing art not
not realizing images
in shifting vision mind
artists should
be producing art
no time for cooking
no time for cleaning
no time for hair cut
artists should not
not be able to keep up
with fermenting ideas
rain weather changes
haunting wake up calls
not creating art
is wasting artistic souls
is wasting artistic lives
in dry season droughts
withering artistic minds
work income human activities
life necessity farming for wages
dependent on salary climates
fifty sixty wage slave hours
is change devastating for artists
this drought no time for artistic activities
is crop failure starvation of artistic minds
leading to artistic suffering on massive scales
droughts are caused by lack of fertility rains
extended over long periods of wage slave times
slight brief rains slight artistic showers
is normality artistic not enough spring rains
to ground absorb artistic evaporated minds
artist is dehydrated lacking soul rejuvenations
plants animals need sustaining life waters
artists need self generated creativity waters
least art dies death of artistic dehydrations
art is main ingredient in artistic food chains
plants die from lack of water therefore animals
eating these plants will also die in drought cycles
artists true artists deprived of art wither drought dies
in mind soul lacking artistic flowering rejuvenations
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Red Balloon (Vishnu's Eyes)
Verse 1
Bought myself a red balloon and a blue surprise
Cause hidden in the read balloon was a peny for my eyes
Chorus
She took her lovelight from my eyes
Oh blue surprise
She took her lovelight from my eyes
Blue surprise
Verse 2
Played with toys for children as a child I got
Haven't any time for children although I've got a lot, hey
Chorus
She took her lovelight from my eyes
Oh blue surprise
She took her lovelight from my eyes
Blue surprise
Blue surprise, yeah
Chorus
She took her lovelight from my eyes
Oh blue surprise
She took her lovelight from my eyes
Blue surprise
Yeah, blue surprise
Blue surprise, yeah
Bridge
Blue surprise
Blue surprise
Vishnu's eyes
Loving eyes
Bridge
Blue surprise
Blue surprise
Vishnu's eyes
Loving eyes
song performed by Kula Shaker
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Four Seasons : Winter
See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These! that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms,
Congenial horrors, hail! with frequent foot,
Pleased have I, in my cheerful morn of life,
When nursed by careless Solitude I lived,
And sung of Nature with unceasing joy,
Pleased have I wander'd through your rough domain;
Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure;
Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst;
Or seen the deep-fermenting tempest brew'd,
In the grim evening sky. Thus pass'd the time,
Till through the lucid chambers of the south
Look'd out the joyous Spring, look'd out, and smiled.
To thee, the patron of her first essay,
The Muse, O Wilmington! renews her song.
Since has she rounded the revolving year:
Skimm'd the gay Spring; on eagle-pinions borne,
Attempted through the Summer-blaze to rise;
Then swept o'er Autumn with the shadowy gale;
And now among the wintry clouds again,
Roll'd in the doubling storm, she tries to soar;
To swell her note with all the rushing winds;
To suit her sounding cadence to the floods;
As is her theme, her numbers wildly great:
Thrice happy could she fill thy judging ear
With bold description, and with manly thought.
Nor art thou skill'd in awful schemes alone,
And how to make a mighty people thrive;
But equal goodness, sound integrity,
A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted soul,
Amid a sliding age, and burning strong,
Not vainly blazing for thy country's weal,
A steady spirit regularly free;
These, each exalting each, the statesman light
Into the patriot; these, the public hope
And eye to thee converting, bid the Muse
Record what envy dares not flattery call.
Now when the cheerless empire of the sky
To Capricorn the Centaur Archer yields,
And fierce Aquarius stains the inverted year;
Hung o'er the farthest verge of Heaven, the sun
Scarce spreads through ether the dejected day.
Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot
His struggling rays, in horizontal lines,
Through the thick air; as clothed in cloudy storm,
Weak, wan, and broad, he skirts the southern sky;
And, soon-descending, to the long dark night,
[...] Read more
poem by James Thomson
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Mouth To Mouth
Ahhhhey!
Ahhhhey!
You tied the knot,
A legend is what you bought
I give you cold water,
And you swear it was wine
You bought time
If you can fool yourself,
Then why not them?
Just keep passing it,
Mouth to mouth to mouth
Ahhhhey!
Ahhhhey!
You tied the knot,
A legend is what you bought
I give you cold water,
And you swear it was wine
You bought time
If you can fool yourself,
Then why not them?
Just keep passing it,
Mouth to mouth to mouth
I can dress up the dead man, but I cant bring him back to life
Bring it out, bring it out
Ahhhhey!
You tied the knot,
Peeled your skin off,
Leave a bungle of nerves
I give you a wet noodle,
You swear that it was my tongue
A sharp one
Instead of that same old
Mouth to mouth to mouth to mouth
I can dress up the dead man, I cant bring him back to life
Bring it out, bring it out
Ahhhhey!
Ahhhhey!
Mouth to mouth
Mouth to mouth
Mouth to mouth
Ahhhhey!
Mouth to mouth
Mouth to mouth
Mouth to mouth to mouth to mouth
I can dress up the dead man, but I cant bring him back to life
I can dress up the dead man, but I cant bring him back to life
I can dress up the dead man, but I cant bring him back to life
I can dress up the dead man, but I cant bring him back to life
I can dress up the dead man, but I cant bring him back to life ...
This is getting old
[...] Read more
song performed by Faith No More
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Loves of the Angels
'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.
Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!
One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!
Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Moore
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Mr. Me
Once a boy named mister me bemoaned a great regret
I've floundered in the misty sea, but can't abide its mystery
I wound up sad, you bet
So onward go and edward ho into the bounding main
Enjoy the show look out below but mind the misty sea
Or end up sad like mister me
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
So take the hand of mister me and mister, make him glad
To swim the mister misty sea and cease the mister mystery
That mister, made him sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Castle Of Indolence
The castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We lived right jollily.
O mortal man, who livest here by toil,
Do not complain of this thy hard estate;
That like an emmet thou must ever moil,
Is a sad sentence of an ancient date:
And, certes, there is for it reason great;
For, though sometimes it makes thee weep and wail,
And curse thy star, and early drudge and late;
Withouten that would come a heavier bale,
Loose life, unruly passions, and diseases pale.
In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,
With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,
A most enchanting wizard did abide,
Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found.
It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground;
And there a season atween June and May,
Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrown'd,
A listless climate made, where, sooth to say,
No living wight could work, ne cared even for play.
Was nought around but images of rest:
Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between;
And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest,
From poppies breathed; and beds of pleasant green,
Where never yet was creeping creature seen.
Meantime, unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd,
And hurled every where their waters sheen;
That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade,
Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.
Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills
Were heard the lowing herds along the vale,
And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills,
And vacant shepherds piping in the dale:
And, now and then, sweet Philomel would wail,
Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep,
That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale;
And still a coil the grasshopper did keep;
Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.
Full in the passage of the vale, above,
A sable, silent, solemn forest stood;
Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to move,
As Idless fancied in her dreaming mood:
And up the hills, on either side, a wood
Of blackening pines, aye waving to and fro,
Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood;
And where this valley winded out, below,
The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.
[...] Read more
poem by James Thomson
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An Abc Of Inner Peace
inner peace: a to z (© Raj Arumugam, September 2008)
Inner peace is effortless, as it’s always there within.
One just has to see it.
And once one truly sees this inner peace – not with words or just
intellectually, but actually see this inner peace within – it is one’s, always;
no one takes away that…
Nothing and no evil and no violent force or even the most difficult
of circumstances in one’s life can remove that inner peace that one
sees within; but let one see this not as a word, or as a phrase
but as an actuality.
Feel that peace, see that inner peace and let it radiate always – for it is
the harmony within each and it is always one’s own.
A
Let amity be your constant companion….Be at peace with all beings, equally at peace with those near and those far, and thus walk hand in hand with amity as in a bounteous garden…
B
Be mindful of your blessings always…To be alive, to breathe in fresh air;
and to be with the family and the companionship of good fellow-human
beings; and the kindness of strangers; and the creatures of this world
and the flowers that bloom, and to have a place in this marvelous planet
of ours….all these too are blessings….
There is a life of the body in the domain of the physical, and
the legitimate needs of the body are just as important as
one’s inner needs…
[...] Read more
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Reverse Reality
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
poem by Nyein Way
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Forsaking All Others Part 5
I
TRAINED nurses, trained nurses everywhere
Trained nurses by night, trained nurses by day -
In the corridors, on the stair,
Looking for towels, carrying a tray;
Saying, 'you mustn't,' 'you must,' 'you may.'
Smooth as to hair, stiff as to skirt,
Kind in a cool, impersonal way,
Angels of mercy, bright-eyed, alert,
Hard young angels, sent to avert
That older angel of dark despair
Stiff starched angels, a trifle curt
Trained nurses, trained nurses everywhere.
II
A WHITE figure spoke from the doorway
In a tone deliberately bright:
'Would you like to see the patient
For a moment, and say goodnight?'
Shepherded in like a stranger
He stood beside her bed,
Gazed at those pale, blank eyelids
In that carven ivory head.
Took her hand and heard her
Murmur: 'Is that you, Jim?'
But he knew she was very tired
Tired even of him.
Too much spent with the struggle
Of drawing breath to afford
A brief smile - utterly weary,
And more than utterly bored.
III
NEVER before had Ruth been out of reach:
Barriers had been - but only of his making.
Now she had passed beyond the power of speech,
Quite, quite indifferent that his heart was breaking.
Here in the bedroom that he used to share
She lived day after day, averse to living,
Indifferent, unforgiving, unaware
That he had any need of her forgiving.
IV
[...] Read more
poem by Alice Duer Miller
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It Comes By Surprise
Number one,
Isn't easy to achieve...
Or can be handled by the squeamish.
Number one,
Takes unshakable faith...
With motivation that's unbreakable.
Number one,
Isn't seen in one's eyes...
It just comes by surprise.
Success that comes to one,
Comes by surprise.
Although it may be wished,
It comes by surprise.
It's not a gift to pick,
It comes by surprise.
Nobody sits until it comes by surprise.
Number one,
Isn't easy to achieve...
Or can be handled by the squeamish.
Number one,
Takes unshakable faith...
With motivation that's unbreakable.
Success that comes to one,
Comes by surprise.
Although it may be wished,
It comes by surprise.
It's not a gift to pick,
It comes by surprise.
Nobody sits until it comes by surprise.
Number one,
Isn't seen in one's eyes...
It just comes by surprise.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sad Sad Sad
Fling you out into orbit
No one's going to hear you shout
And fools aren't going to follow
You don't send the sleaze about
Now you're sad sad sad
Sad sad sad
Sad sad sad
But you're gonna be fine
The elephant's in the bedroom
Throwing all his weight about
And I'm locked in the bathroom
Your screaams are gonna drown me out
Now you're sad sad sad
Sad sad sad
Sad sad sad
But you're gonna be fine
I got a cold chill
I get a cool thrill
Are you ready for the gilded cage
Are you ready for the tears of rage
Come on baby
song performed by Rolling Stones from Steel Wheels
Added by Lucian Velea
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So Sad - The Riverboat Song B-side
So sad, so sad
So sad, so sad
I didnt want to love you
And you do want nothing at all
So sad, so sad
So sad, so sad
Theres a cold break in my dream
Keeps turning round everything youve said
Its so naked in my brain
Makes it hard to be by myself
Repeat opening verse
And I didnt want to love you
And Im feeling the pain
Stop watching the best things we loved in our life
Was the wind and the sails
And I needed to try for you
Thats lost on the night
And its found in the beautiful store in your eyes
And its making you cry
So sad, its so sad
So sad, so sad
So sad, so sad
I didnt want to love you
And you do nothing at all
Its so sad, so sad
So sad, so sad (x2)
song performed by Ocean Colour Scene
Added by Lucian Velea
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Three Women
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.
Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.
Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.
1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.
Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,
[...] Read more
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Added by Poetry Lover
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