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Every small town has its dramatic group, its barber-shop quartet, every home has music in one form or another.

quote by Kate Smith
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lubie

I said I, I left my wife and child (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i left my wife and child (lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (Lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (lubie come back home),
A little voice inside my head goes on and on (Lubie come back home),
A little voice inside my head goes on and on (lubie come back home),
Said Lubie Lubie you better go back home.
Said lubie lubie you better go back home.
I said I, I thought I'd make it by myself (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i thought i'd make it by myself (lubie come back home),
And now my baby she got my heart dropped on a shelf (Lubie come back home),
And now my baby she got my heart dropped on a shelf (lubie come back home),
I said I, I still you're my baby now (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i still you're my baby now (lubie come back home),
Said Lubie Lubie you better go back home.
Said lubie lubie you better go back home.
You better go on home (Lubie come back home),
You better go on home (lubie come back home),
I said yeah Lubie go on home (Lubie come back home),
I said yeah lubie go on home (lubie come back home),
I said you better go home girl,
I said you better go home girl,
Ah yeah you go home.
Ah yeah you go home.
Go on home home home home home home,
Go on home home home home home home,
Yeah Lubie go on home home home home home home,
Yeah lubie go on home home home home home home,
Yeah Lubie go on home home home home home home,
Yeah lubie go on home home home home home home,
Little bit soft, everybody go soft,
Little bit soft, everybody go soft,
Go on home to see my baby,
Go on home to see my baby,
Yeah you know that she loves you daddy like crazy.
Yeah you know that she loves you daddy like crazy.
I say my misses I'm gonna stay what I'm gonna do,
I say my misses i'm gonna stay what i'm gonna do,
Gonna buy you a monkey and a new dog too yeah,
Gonna buy you a monkey and a new dog too yeah,
The guys have got yeah to get 'em to see my baby,
The guys have got yeah to get 'em to see my baby,
A little bit louder, everybody go on go louder, yeah yeah yeah yeah.
A little bit louder, everybody go on go louder, yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Now Lubie where you been,
Now lubie where you been,
I said I, I left my wife and child (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i left my wife and child (lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (Lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (lubie come back home),

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Video Shop

The local factorys been pulled down
By an overseas corporation
Now all of my brothers are looking around
For alternative occupation
I was sitting by the telly with my brother, kenny
When suddenly the penny dropped
While all of my brothers are sitting at home
Ive got a bank loan and Ive opened up my very own
Video shop
Video shop
At the video shop
I can fly, fly you away
Comedy and tragedy are all sitting on my shelf
And if youve got a fantasy
For a small rental fee
You can set yourself free
At my video shop
At my video shop
At the video shop
I can fly, fly you away
At the video shop
Let me fly, fly you away
From all of the depression in you head
Caused by all the living in the red
Ive got a bootleg version of citizen kane
A second hand copy of psycho
Ive taped them off the telly so you shouldnt complain
And theres no guarantee youll get your money back again
From my video shop
My video shop
If you want to escape, I can rent you a tape
To relieve your situation
If you feel a bit low, I got a good peep show
cos everybody knows almost anything goes
At my video shop
At my video shop
One fifty a day and Ill fly, fly you away
Its nothing to pay to fly far, far away
I can help you through that lonely night
Ive got technicolour, black and white
I can guide you through those empty days
Make you smile and take your blues away
O let me fly you away
At my video shop
Fly, fly you away
Another factorys been knocked down
But nobody ever complains
And all of my brothers are customers now
We all play video games
I can see it in the eyes of all the lonely wives

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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I'll Get One Tomorrow

Barber, barber, come and get me;
Hairy torrents irk and fret me.
Hair and hair again appears;
And climbs like ivy round my ears.
Hair across my collar gambols;
Down my neck it wayward ambles.
Ever down it trip it tickles;
Yes, where it trips it tickles.
Barber dear I wish I knew;
Why i do not visit you.
Why I grudge the minutes ten;
In your smiling den.
Why I choose to choke on hair;
Rather than to mount your chair.
Men no busier than I;
Weekly to your office hie.
Men no busier than myself;
Confront the armory on your shelf;
Men no wealthier than me;
Gladly meet your modest fee.
And for a fraction of a dollar;
Keep the jungle off their collar.
I alone am shy and flustered;
Solitary, cowardly custard.
Shaggy as a prize angore;
Overrun with the creeping flora.
Barber, barber, you’re in luck;
The bell has rung, the hour has struck.
Sloth strong, the hair is strong;
I cannot stand it any long.
Barber, barber here I come;
Shake up the odorous bay rum.
Bring on your shears your scythes, your snippers;
Bring on your crisp electric driers.
Employ a dozen extra sweepers;
Bring giant harvesters and reapers.
I warn you a bumper crop;
Waits to overwhelm your shop.
Braber, barber, be verbose;
Be anything but clip me close.
Leave me razored, leave me scissored
Leave me hairless, as a lizard;
Barber, barber, single and scald;
Barber can’t you make me bald?
I will be the happiest of men;
And never think of you again.

poem by Ogden Nash
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Shop, she shops!

Once she constantly smiled
Bought cloths and jewelry that gave her style

Shop, shop, shop
She shopped till she dropped
Shop, shop, shop
She just could not seem to stop

Her credit was on top
Her spending way rocket up
She paid with cash or credit card
This Lady was absolutely shopping mad
Shoping malls!
Markets stalls!
Shoes, clothing, and handbags she bought all year long
Spend, spend and spend daily was her beloved song

Shop, shop, shop
She now shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
This lady has now put a stop

Today is different shopping expedition
This time spending with supervision
No more that crazy spending addiction

Her credit card is cut
Her goods seized, the whole lot
Today she spends, her pockets hurt!

She has become street wise
Haggling with each price
She has become precise
About what she needs and not what is nice

Shop, shop, shop
She shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
Her spending has taken a big drop!
This lady has now put a stop to shop!

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Stop Being So Dramatic

You tell me what you think and mean.
But why you don't,
Let it go!

When we're walking in the streets,
There's always a scene.
And under spotlight...
You begin your show.

Let it go.
Your past and those bitter things.
Let it go.
Why can't,
You let it go.

Does your happiness mean anything?
Then you've got to let stuff go!

Let it go.
Stop being so dramatic.

Let it go.
Stop being,
Those worst of fanatics.

Let it go.
Stop being so dramatic.
Let it go.
Stop being,
The worst of fanatics.

You spend your days fantasizing from your window.
Locked up tight without a social life.
And you tell 'me' I'm growing old.
But I'm not sitting with my eyes half closed.
Or watching my life pass by...
From a window.

Let it go.
Your past and those bitter things.
Let it go.
Why can't,
You let it go.

Let it go.
Stop being so dramatic.
Let it go.
Stop being,
The worst of fanatics.
Let it go.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Let It All Be Music

Music is a mirror
Near around my soul
Music is the spirit
Come on let it roll
Music is my nature
People have you heard
Music is my future
Music is the world
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
Music isnt somewhere
Music turns you right
Music is a fever
Leads you day and night
Music is like heaven
Where you wanna be
Music is religion
Music sets you free
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
Music is tomorrow
Music is today
Music is forever
Music is the way
Music is for women
Music is for men
Music is for children
Sing it all again
Let it all be music
People sing a song

[...] Read more

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Small Town

Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Probly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities
All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity
Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic thats me
But Ive seen it all in a small town
Had myself a ball in a small town
Married an l.a. doll and brought her to this small town
Now shes small town just like me
No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be
Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look whos in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and thats good enough for me
Well I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in this small town
And thats probly where theyll bury me

song performed by John Mellencamp
Added by Lucian Velea
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Feel The Music

What is music and why is it here?

Music is made for the ear.

To be made and played for many of decades.

To be embraced by different cultures and race,

Music

the heart of man

Only it seems now only a few understand

Music.

The upbeat the down beat the chords the rhythm it plays.

Exchanging and changing forever.

Music.

Not one man can take the responsibility for making the music the music made us.

You have to trust in the

Music

Classical Jazz, Swing, Country everything it brings.

Music.

Although music has a lot of names it will always remain the same

Music will always change.

The dramatic character of a story.

It will always end with the final glory.

Because of its graceful authority

[...] Read more

poem by Tiffany Burton
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Back Home

Yeah yeah yeah
Well Im going back this summer to ohio
Im gonna seek out all my friends Ive always known
Im goin back to that farm that I remember
Well Im goin to spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Im gonna get up every morning before the roosters
Ill run downstairs fix my breakfast all alone
Ill milk those cows feed the chickens and the horses
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Ill eat everything that ma puts on the table
When I get back you wont believe how Ive grown
Ill hit the sack early everynight thinkin bout tomorrow whoa oh
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home, back home, back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Thats what Im gonna do thats where Im gonna be, thats this summer
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Gonna get up, gonna get up, gonna get up every morning
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Hey woo feels okay back home
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Man from Iron Bark

It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town,
He wandered over street and park, he wandered up and down.
He loitered here he loitered there, till he was like to drop,
Until at last in sheer despair he sought a barber's shop.
'Ere! shave my beard and whiskers off, I'll be a man of mark,
I'll go and do the Sydney toff up home in Ironbark.'
The barber man was small and flash, as barbers mostly are,
He wore a strike-your-fancy sash he smoked a huge cigar;
He was a humorist of note and keen at repartee,
He laid the odds and kept a 'tote', whatever that may be,
And when he saw our friend arrive, he whispered, 'Here's a lark!
Just watch me catch him all alive, this man from Ironbark.'

There were some gilded youths that sat along the barber's wall.
Their eyes were dull, their heads were flat, they had no brains at all;
To them the barber passed the wink his dexter eyelid shut,
'I'll make this bloomin' yokel think his bloomin' throat is cut.'
And as he soaped and rubbed it in he made a rude remark:
'I s'pose the flats is pretty green up there in Ironbark.'

A grunt was all reply he got; he shaved the bushman's chin,
Then made the water boiling hot and dipped the razor in.
He raised his hand, his brow grew black, he paused awhile to gloat,
Then slashed the red-hot razor-back across his victim's throat;
Upon the newly-shaven skin it made a livid mark -
No doubt it fairly took him in - the man from Ironbark.

He fetched a wild up-country yell might wake the dead to hear,
And though his throat, he knew full well, was cut from ear to ear,
He struggled gamely to his feet, and faced the murd'rous foe:
'You've done for me! you dog, I'm beat! one hit before I go!
I only wish I had a knife, you blessed murdering shark!
But you'll remember all your life the man from Ironbark.'

He lifted up his hairy paw, with one tremendous clout
He landed on the barber's jaw, and knocked the barber out.
He set to work with nail and tooth, he made the place a wreck;
He grabbed the nearest gilded youth, and tried to break his neck.
And all the while his throat he held to save his vital spark,
And 'Murder! Bloody murder!' yelled the man from Ironbark.

A peeler man who heard the din came in to see the show;
He tried to run the bushman in, but he refused to go.
And when at last the barber spoke, and said ''Twas all in fun'
Twas just a little harmless joke, a trifle overdone.'
'A joke!' he cried, 'By George, that's fine; a lively sort of lark;
I'd like to catch that murdering swine some night in Ironbark.'

And now while round the shearing floor the list'ning shearers gape,
He tells the story o'er and o'er, and brags of his escape.

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Mammary Tunes

Under heavy haze I cast an ear…
Was that a distant hymn?

To view, to peer ahead,
I span thro’ sharpened eyes,
Connecting brain. Surprise
Awards emotion to the show –
A fine refrain.

I think I know the source:
Without recourse my keen and
Eager shoes propel my whole.

And she regales me as I close –
The drifting notes propose I place
An ear to verge upon the emanation.
Choice of left or right
Invites and overwhelms;
A brief respite, and then
I poise an aural organ,
Seeking out the balance
In the tone from rhythmic flesh.

O Holy Grail, the sweet spot!

Honed in stereophony and
Mastered out of euphony:
Her music –
Diaphragms of luscious areolae
Give the tune

Atop a vibrant bass –
Quivers in the
Belly of her breast.
And presently
I fall beneath a spell of heady music
As her reproductive cushions do the rest.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Stinkomalee triumphans

WHENE'ER with pitying eye I view
Each operative sot in town.
I smile to think how wondrous few
Get drunk who study at the U-
--niversity we've Got in town,
--niversity we've Got in town.

What precious fools 'The People' grew,
Their alma mater not in town;
The 'useful classes' hardly knew
Four was composed of two and two,
Until they learned it at the U-
--niversity we've Got in town.

But now they're taught by JOSEPH HU-
ME, by far the cleverest Scot in town,
Their items and their tottles too
Each may dissect his sister Sue,
From his instructions at the U-
--niversity we've Got in town.

Then L--E comes, like him how few
Can caper and can trot in town,
In pirouette or pas de deux --
He beats the famed Monsieur Giroux,
And teaches dancing at the U-
--niversity we've Got in town.

And GILCHRIST, see, that great Gentoo
Professor, has a lot in town
of Cockney boys, who fag Hindoo,
And larn Jem-nasties at the U
--niversity we've Got in town.

SAM R-- corpse of vampire hue,
Comes from its grave, to rot in town;
For Bays the dead bard's crowned with Yew,
And chaunts the Pleasures of the U-
--niversity we've Got in town.

FRANK JEFFREY, of the Scotch Review,--
Whom MOORE had nearly shot in town,--
Now, with his pamphlet stitched in blue
And yellow, d--ns the other two,
But lauds the ever-glorious U-
--niversity we've Got in town.

Great BIRKBECK, king of chips and glue,
Who paper oft does blot in town,
From the Mechanics' Institu-

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Harris Barham
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The Piano Lurched

Contact was sharp…

I jolted from immediacy of senses torn from mind:
Such was I at unawares with you –
To strike with Master’s single chord that pounced and caught me blind –
Piano, how you lurched and rent me through!

Delightful music welcomed me to drift in quasi-syncope:
Soft tranquillo sought to rest my bones –
I glided reaching largo; sang with sweet cantabile, and
Forte let me in to louder tones.

I cried with lacrimoso; squirmed when agitato flared;
My hearing rang when fingers danced the trill.
And so it was, this maestro grand was genius declared –
Acting out in music for the thrill.

Translating pen to piano, this player takes me back thro’ time…
In the chamber, fine composers charm:
I watch the manic hands of Liszt abound with tunes sublime;
Mozart teased my mood with stark alarm.

Then entered Bach to demonstrate his mathematic flare,
Calculating notes supreme of form.
And I – the minion audience – sat wanting in my chair,
Having heard my idols all perform.

Did Darwin’s theory tell at all why Man evolved this way?
Why would music help him to survive?
But scientific muse had veered my thoughts from this display, and
Music called: ‘Just listen - you’re alive! ’

The maestro draws conclusion; lets the piano die a death
To stand as wood, inert just as before –
A pollished casket lined with keys, at calm from naught of breath,
Bade me scream: ‘Bravo! ’ and ‘Hail! Encore! ’

He wakes the box to dance again with noble works of art:
Resurrected; fully primed with zest.
Now even I was back to life with reason in my heart –
Heightened from the pounding in my chest.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Twirl

(kinky friedman)
Just a small-town girl
Till you learned to twirl
Then you set the world on fire
Like a drive-in cinderella
In a chevy named desire
So leave your teddy-bear
At the county fair,
Honey, hollywoods on the phone,
For a small-town girl
From a small-town world
Youre a long, long way from home.
They say that dreams come true in indiana
That momma loves you up in abilene,
And if you wish upon a star in texarkana
Some day you may be a twirling queen.
Just a small-town girl
Till you learned to twirl
Then you set the world on fire
Like a drive-in cinderella
In a chevy named desire
So leave your teddy-bear
At the county fair,
Honey, hollywoods on the phone,
For a small-town girl
From a small-town world
Youre a long, long way from home.
Then you turned around and yesterday was over,
Childhoods like some long lost lullabye
Way back when all the pearls were in the ocean,
Way back when all the stars were in the sky.
Just a small-town girl
Till you learned to twirl
Then you set the world on fire
Like a drive-in cinderella
In a chevy named desire
So leave your teddy-bear
At the county fair,
Honey, hollywoods on the phone,
For a small-town girl
From a small-town world
Youre a long, long way from home.
Just a small-town girl
Till you learned to twirl
Then you set the world on fire
Like a drive-in cinderella
In a chevy named desire
So leave your teddy-bear
At the county fair,
Honey, hollywoods on the phone,

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hot Town

Written by dewey bunnell, 1998
Found on human nature.
Down in this hot town
At some old cafe tonight
You hear the dogs bay
At the green neon light
Its one hundred degrees
But the heat is free
In this hot town
This hot town tonight
And that there candle
Only adds to the heat
As you sit in your t-shirt
Trying to eat
You watch the waitress, you watch the clock on the wall
And the flies in the window climb up just to fall
In this hot town (hot town, hot town)
This hot town tonight (hot town, hot, hot)
Down in this hot town
Dont know no person to call
And this here cafe
Dont serve no beer at all
Out on the sidewalk
Its cooling down for your feet (cooling down, cooling down for your feet)
But the women are still sweaty and sweet (still sweaty, sweaty and sweet)
So you watch the waitress, you watch the clock on the wall
And the flies in the window climb up just to fall
In this hot town (hot town, hot town)
This hot town tonight (hot town, hot, hot)
Its one hundred degrees
But the heat is free
In this hot town (hot town, hot town)
This hot town tonight (hot town, hot, hot)
Its one hundred degrees (oh yeah)
In this hot town (hot town, hot town)
This hot town tonight (hot town, hot, hot)
(hot town, hot town)
(hot town, hot, hot)... (fade)

song performed by America
Added by Lucian Velea
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Boys Are Back In Town

Guess who just got back today
Them wildout boys, that'd been away
Haven't changed, had much to say
But man I still think them cats are great
They were asking if you were around
How you was, where you could be found
Told them you were living downtown
Driving all the old men crazy
The Boys are back in town (The boys are back in town)
(I Said) The boys are back in town
The boys are back in town
The boys are back in town (The boys are back in town)
The boys are back in town (The boys are back in town)
You know that chic who used to dance a lot?
Every night she'd be on the floor, shaken what she got
Man when I tell you she was cool she was red hot
I mean she was steamin'
And that time over at Johnny's place
When this chic got up and slapped Johnny's face
Man we just fell about the place
What that chic don't wanna know forget 'er
The boys are back in town (The boys are back in town)
(I said) The boys are back in town
The boys are back in town
The boys are back in town (The boys are back in town)
The boys are back in town (The boys are back in town)
Spread the word around
Guess who's back in town
You spread the word around
Friday night they'll be dressed to kill
Down at Dino's bar and grill
The drinks will flow and blood would spill
If the boys wanna fight you better let 'em
That kid rocks down at the corner blasting out my favourite song
The nights are getting warmer and won't be long
Wont be long till the summer comes
Now that the boys are here again
The boys are back in town (the boys are back in town)
The boys are back in town (the boys are back in town)
The boys are back in town (the boys are back in town)
(Spread the word around)
The boys are back in town (The boys are back in town)
(The boys are back, the boys are back)
The boys are back in town again
They're hanging out at Dino's
The boys are back in town again

song performed by Thin Lizzy
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dark Side of Town

we came home on the dark side of town

we came home to a deserted rubble of half forgotten memories, children’s toys, fenced yards grown heavy with weeds, and a cold wind blowing

we came home on the wrong side of the tracks

we came home to the industrial miasma of where we used to live and found we didn’t live there anymore

we came home to the cold shoulder of forgotten dreams and forgotten neighborhoods

we came home to where the unlocked door stood open and the floorboards flapped in the wind that blew through the empty house

we came home to the unreality of lifetimes that used to be lived by the people who used to live them

we came home to the midnight of deserted railroad yards, rusted tracks, empty boxcars, noon whistles and the paper mill once prosperous now deserted but for the white haired old man in the shipping office

we came home to the vacant lot where our childhood was

we came home to a new land of strangers, commerce, and the implacability of change

we came home to where our poverty came as inexplicably as other people’s success

we came home on the dark side of loneliness where a forgotten sun rose over the trancelike horizon of a deserted junkyard

we came home to the inner melancholy where even now the memories lie dormant

we came home to where a greeting card on valentine’s day was the most meaningful thing to us

we came home to lost pages of forgotten poetry flapping like leaves in the wind of silent refuse beaches

we came home to where horizons were closer and the radio tower on the hill beamed concentric rings of our loneliness

we came home to the nocturnal setting of long deserted friends and the surreal back roads of our youth

we came home to where our grandmother’s house was still standing and the city fountain still stood in the center of town

we came home to where there was no modern jazz or poetry and psychedelia was still a long lost dream away

we came home to where the fear of sex merged with the fear of death and the future still lay before us like a carpet of unrealized potential

we came home to the innocence of christmas lights, parental hands held crossing the street, and the expectation of giving

we came home to where our interment by day in the school was sharply contrasted to our interment at home by night

we came home to where snowed in by a blizzard gave us our only holiday and the tiny transmitted voice from the radio station gave us our only hope of vibraphones and cool jazz

we came home to where we looked for but could not find an avenue of entry into the esoteric knowledge of an elite inner circle

we came home to where good grades eventually gave way to apathy and absenteeism

[...] Read more

poem by Theresa Haffner
Added by Poetry Lover
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