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When anyone tells me I can't do anything... I'm just not listening any more.

quote by Florence Griffith Joyner
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0008 A Ghazal

I lie awake as the light night-rain falls, listening
to its irregularities, listening

as the breeze blows it now and then
against the window and the curtain flutters; listening

and wondering if I can hear
the rain listening

to itself, as if – I sometimes think I hear this –
there’s a moment just before it stops as if listening

to its own decision to stop, as if it sighs,
thinks, that’s enough; it could be listening

to the gratitude of the closed flowers, the wet earth,
the ecstasy of roots which are themselves listening

to the flowers sleeping, sighing in their sleep.
But do you wonder why I’m listening

instead of sleeping, this warm rainy night?
What’s so important that it needs my listening?

It was the rain that woke me; and as I turned, sighed,
it was the thought of you last night here next to me, listening

not to me, but to your own dreams – which I may never share;
though I may share you in my listening

to your sweet sleep’s breath, felt faintly on my shoulder;
and so, there’s a question in my listening –

did you awake at the same night rain, you so far away,
awake, sigh, and in your half-awakened listening

know that I too, thought of you?
Sighed that sweet thought, of our shared, single listening? …

As the perfume of a rose may be more evocative than the rose,
So sweeter, steadier than thought, dream, memory – the listening!

[A ghazal has a rhyme scheme aa ba ca da >]

poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Listening Week

This is the listening week of the year
Listening-in.
A-cock and alert is the national ear
Listening-in.
All over the land in the country towns,
From the back of the Leeuwin to Darling Downs,
Layers of 'quids' or the odd half-crowns,
They are listening-in.

On the far-flung farms they are round each set,
Listening-in.
The work and the worry they all forget,
Listening-in.
Wherever an aerial soars in space
To the Cup, or the Oaks or the Steeplechase,
To the roar of the ring and the lure of the race
They are listening-in.

In the far outback there are sun-tanned men,
Listening-in.
Where the woolshed stands by the drafting pen
Listening-in.
Old Dad's come in from the Ninety Mile;
He scored on the Cup and he wears a smile,
And he 'reckons this game is well worth while'
So he's listening in.

To the edge of the desert the sound-waves go;
And, listening-in,
Ned of the Overland, Saltbush Joe
Listening-in
Recall the giants of years long past,
And the loneliness of these spaces vast;
But they reckon that life's worth living at last
With this listening-in.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Every Face Tells A Story

Look at the man in the corner, hes sitting all alone
His blankets are made out of cardboard,
His pillows are made out of stone
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
See the man walking on the water, see the light in his eyes
He came into the world with a message to tell,
He came into the world to die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Youre always telling stories, youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories, why?
So think of yourself in the water, seeing your days flashing by
Its too late to see what you wanted to be,
Youve spent all your time, you must die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Step down
And make it work out right
Im trying to get to you with my warning
Been there
For nearly half the night
Look its nearly four in the morning

song performed by Cliff Richard
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Just Walk Away

When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.

Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.

When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.

Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.

Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.

Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.

When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.

Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.

Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Do you just walk away.
Just walk away.
Just-walk-away.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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S.O.S.

Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
I'm shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'll be standing here and I'm miles away
Making signals hoping they'd save me
I lock myself inside these walls
'Cause out there I'm always wrong
I don't think I'm gonna make it
So while I'm sitting here
On the eve of my death bed
I'll write this letter and hope it saves me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm stuck in my own head and I'm oceans away
Would anybody notice if I chose to stay?
I'll send and SOS tonight
Wonder if I will survive
How in the hell did I get so far away this time
So now I'm sitting here
The time of my departure's near
I say a prayer
Please someone save me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm lost here
I can't make it on my own
I don't wanna die alone
I'm so scared
Drowning now
Reaching out
Holding on to everything I love
Crying out
Dying now

[...] Read more

song performed by Good Charlotte
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Listening

Your skin attached this fragile cliche
Of my broken heart attack
You should swallow your teeth and hang out
Stay for a while
If your heart's still beating it must be the blood
If your lungs are still working it must be the mud
If its still light out than a kick in the ribs
today's worth living
I don't see anything now
So just say what you wanna say
It's kind of funny how I'm not listening anyway
Lights out, I can't stand to hear you scream
While we were making love I was fast asleep
and the night sky better give something up (give something up)
I don't see anything now
So just say what you wanna say
It's kind of funny how I'm not listening anyway
[x2]
Lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out...
Lights out! I can't stand to hear you scream
While we were making love I was fast asleep
If your heart's still beating it must be the blood
If your lungs are still working it must be the mud
If its still light out than a kick in the ribs
And today's worth living, it probably is
I don't see anything now
So just say what you wanna say
It's kind of funny how I'm not listening anyway
[x2]
I'm not listening anyway
I'm not listening anyway
I'm not listening
Listening, I'm not listening
I'm not listening
I'm not listening
I'm not listening

song performed by Used
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Old Mans Rubble

Are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
Are you walking with unnecessary burdens,
Are you trying to take them upon yourself?
If you are, then youre living in bondage,
And you know thats bad for your spiritual health.
And are you trying to live by your emotions,
Are you putting your faith in what you feel and see?
Then youre living just to satisfy your passions,
And you better be careful cause youre being deceived.
Are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
Are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
Are you puzzled by the way that youre behaving,
Do you wonder why you do the things you do?
And are you troubled by your lack of resistance,
Do you feel that somethings got a hold on you?
Well deep within you, theres a spiritual balance;
Theres a voice of the darkness and a voice of the light.
And just by listening, you have made a decision,
cause the voice you hear is gonna win the fight.
Are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
If youre living as a new creation,
If youre listening to the father of light,
Then youre living in a mighty fortress,
And youre gonna be clothed in power and might.
But are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
If youre living as a new creation,
If youre listening to the father of light,
Then youre living in a mighty fortress,
And youre gonna be clothed in power and might.
But are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
But if youre living as a new creation,
If youre listening to the father of light,
Then youre living in a mighty fortress,
And youre gonna be clothed in power and might.

song performed by Amy Grant
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Black Bruises II

I can ponder upon the blackness,
the garrulous of silence
placated by benign solitude
I can endure the ostracizing
listening to lulling lullabies,
listening to trembling metals,
listening to enraptured echoes,
listening to a soundless shattering,
listening to nothingness,
listening to guffawing crows,
listening to diffident clocks,
listening to the waning time;
but am I the only one listening
to these black bruised whispers?

poem by Norman Santos
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Turn Off The World

Got to pull it up
Got to pull it out
Got to survive
Got to stay calm
Got to think fast
Dont want to burn
Searching for a door
Searching for a way
Out of this thing
I dont know whats wrong
Dont know what to do
Im out of control
Nothing I can do
Nothing seems to work
Im barely alive
Got to slow it down
Got to do something
Or give in
Watching us fall
Trying everything
Fighting for life
Running out of time
I dont have a choice
Im riding it in
Im inside and Im trying to get out
Im inside and Im screaming for some help
And everythings gone wrong
Im listening to the sound of my own fear
Im listening to the sound of someones tears
Im listening to me
This is the fear
This is nothing like
You could believe
Panic in my heart
Like a cold hand
Pulling at strings
Ill do anything
Even pray to god
Just let me out
Turn off the machine
Turn off all the noise
Turn off the world
Im inside and Im trying to get out
Im inside and Im screaming for some help
And everythings gone wrong
Im listening to the sound of my own fear
Im listening to the sound of someones tears
Im listening to me
Im inside and Im trying to get out
Im inside and Im screaming for some help

[...] Read more

song performed by Gary Numan
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Every Face Tells A Story

(m. allison/p. sills/d. black)
Theres no need for you to tell me
I can see the way you feel
I just know without you saying
What is a lie and whats real
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye
Somethings going on, and I know it
You cant keep it from me
Your smile cannot hide what you feel inside
And I dont like what I see
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye
Youre always telling stories
Youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories
If you want to leave me, leave me
No good living a lie
You can pretend that were not gonna end
But your eyes are saying goodbye
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye
Youre always telling stories
Youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories
Tell me, I got a right to know
Pour your little heart out to me, baby
You know, you know I dont want to let go
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye

song performed by Olivia Newton-John
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Nature tells me

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my riches for I am not
much richer than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my beauty for I am not
much beautiful than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my kindness for I am not
much kinder than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my generosity for I am not
much generous than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my logicality for I am not
much logical than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my judiciousness for I am not
much judicious than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my poetic mind for I am not
much poetic than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my prides for I am not
much prouder than her.

poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Illahi Nama (Book of God)

In the Book of God (Ilahi-nama) 'Attar framed his mystical teachings in various stories that a caliph tells his six sons, who are kings themselves and seek worldly pleasures and power.
The first son is captivated by a virgin princess, and his father tells him the adventures of a beautiful and virtuous woman who attracts several men but miraculously survives their abuse and then forgives them. They acknowledge that carnal desire is necessary to propagate the race but also recognize that passionate love can lead to spiritual love, which can annihilate the soul in the beloved.
Other stories indicate the importance of respecting the lives of other creatures such as ants or dogs. One only thinks oneself better than a dog because of one's dog-like nature.

The second son tells his father that his heart craves magic; but his father warns him against the work of the Devil. A monk tells a shaikh that he has chosen the job of locking up a savage dog inside himself, and he advises the shaikh to lock up anger lest he be changed into a dog. The father suggests that this son ask for something more worthy and tells an anecdote in which Jesus teaches a man the greatest name of God. The man uses it to make bones come alive into a lion, which devours him, leaving his bones. Jesus then says that when a person asks for something unworthy, God does not grant it. Birds and beasts flee from people, because people eat them. God tells Moses to watch his heart when he is alone, to be kind and watch his tongue when he is with people, the road in front when he is walking, and his gullet when he is dining. A saint tells a shaikh that love is never denied to humans, for only the lover knows the true value of the beloved. Another saint warns that unless you pray for protection from negativity (the Devil), you shall not enter the court of God.

The third son of the caliph asks for a cup that could display the whole world. 'Attar concluded a story by saying that Sufism is to rest in patience and forsake all desire for the world, and trust in God means bridling one's tongue and wishing for better things for others than for oneself. This son asks why his father seems to disparage the love of honor and the love of wealth which all seem to possess. The caliph replies that in the crazy prison of the world one can achieve greatness only by devotion. Since one speaks to God through the heart and soul, it is difficult to speak with God of worldly things. The third son asks if he can be allowed to seek power in moderation; but the father still warns that this will place screens between him and God. Each screen created by seeking power will create more screens. One must see both the good and the bad inside and outside oneself to understand how they are connected together. Saints who reach their goal see nothingness in all things, making sugar seem like poison and a rose like thorns. Ayaz advises the conquering sultan Mahmud to leave his self behind since he is better being entirely We. In the last story for his third son, the father says that thousands of arts, mysteries, definitions, commands, prohibitions, orders, and injunctions are founded on the intellect. What cup could be more revealing than this?

The fourth son seeks the water of life, and his father warns him against desire. A wise man considers Alexander the Great the slave of his slave, because the Greek conqueror has submitted to greed and desire, which this wise man controls. If the son cannot have the water of life, he asks for the knowledge that will illuminate his heart. In one story 'Attar concluded that if you are not faithful in love, you are in love only with yourself. The fifth son asks for the ring of Solomon that enables one to communicate with birds and other animals. The Way is summarized as seeing the true road, traveling light, and doing no harm. The father tells this son that he has chosen an earthly kingdom, because he has not heard of the kingdom of the next world. He advises this king that since his sovereignty will not endure not to load the whole world on his shoulders. Why take on the burden of all creation? The caliph suggests that his son practice contentment, which is an eternal kingdom that overshadows even the Sun. When Joseph was thrown into a pit, the angel Gabriel counseled him that it is better to notice a single blemish in yourself than to see a hundred lights of the Unseen.

The sixth son desires to practice alchemy, but his father perceives that he is caught in the snare of greed. Gold is held more tightly by a miser than the rock grips the ore. The son observes that excessive poverty often leads to losing faith, and so he asks God for both the philosopher's stone and for gold; but his father replies that one cannot promote both faith and the world at the same time. In the epilog the poet commented that since he receives his daily bread from the Unseen, he does not have to be the slave of wretched men, and 'Attar concluded this work with the satisfaction that he has perfumed the name of God with his poetry.

poem by Farid ud-Din Attar Abu Hamid bin Abu Bakr Ibrahim
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Does Anybody Hear Me

Chorus:
Does anybody hear me?
Is anybody listening to whats going on?
Before we move on.
Does anybody hear me?
Is anybody listening?
How can we change hate?
Before its too late?
Verse 1:
Young with dreams, (ooo oo)
Had em for a long time (ooo oo)
Well nothings impossible
As long as you put your mind to it.
Sometimes you wanna let go
Hold on tight
But you gotta believe
With God on your side
Chorus:
Does anybody hear me?
Is anybody listening to whats going on?
Before we move on.
Does anybody hear me?
Is anybody listening?
How can we change hate?
Before its too late?
Verse 2:
Happy, (ooo oo)
Thats all youll ever wanna be. (ooo oo)
Well, knowledge is power,
Absorb as much as you need
At times I feel like love passed me by
Just imagine how the kids feel inside.
Chorus:
Does anybody hear me?
Is anybody listening to whats going on?
Before we move on.
Does anybody hear me?
Is anybody listening?
How can we change hate?
Before its too late?
Does anybody hear me? (when you feel you need a friend)
(anybody listening...)
Is anybody listening to whats going on?
(on.... yeah, yeah, yeah)
Before we move on.

song performed by En Vogue
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Rest Stop

Just three miles from the rest stop
And she slams on the breaks
She said I tried to be but Im not
And could you please collect your things
I dont wanna be cold
I dont wanna be cruel
But I gotta find more
Than whats happening with you
If youd - open up the door
She said - while you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what youre dreaming when
It came to mind that I didnt care
So I thought - hell if its over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose my nerve
Are you listening - can you hear me
Have you forgotten
Just three miles from the rest stop
And my mouths too dry to rage
The light was shining from the radio
I could barely see her face
But she knew all the words that I never had said
She knew the crumpled-up promise of this
Broken down man - and as I opened up the door
She said - while you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what youre dreaming when
It came to mind that I didnt care
So I thought - hell if its over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose my nerve
Are you listening - can you hear me
Have you forgotten
She said - while you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what youre dreaming when
It came to mind that I didnt care
So I thought - hell if its over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose my nerve
Are you listening - can you hear me
While you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what youre dreaming when
It came to mind that I didnt care
So I thought - hell if its over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose all my nerve
Are you listening - can you hear me

song performed by Matchbox Twenty
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Empty

Can this be my poem?—this poor fragment
Of bald thought in meanest language dressed!
Can this string of rhymes be my sweet poem?
All its poetry wholly unexpressed!

Does it tell me of the dreams that wandered,
In the silent night-time, through my brain?
Of the woven web of wondrous fancies,
Half of keenest joy and half of pain?

Does it tell me of the awful beauty
That came down to hide this sordid earth?
Does it tell me of the inward crying?—
Of the glory whence it had its birth?

Only as the lamp, all dull and rusted,
Tells me of the flame that is put out,—
Of the shiny hair and happy faces
Lighted, when its radiance streamed about?

Only as this piece of glass, now lying
In the shade beside me, as I sit,
Tells me of the soft hues of the rainbow,
That the morning sunshine gave to it!

Only as this little flask, now smelling
Of the dust and mould with which 'tis lined,
Tells me of the lovely subtle fragrance
Of the perfume that it once enshrined!

Only as a picture, blurred and faded,
Tells me of the bloom of colour there,
When the painter's soul was with his canvas,
And his paint was bright, and fresh, and fair!

Only as the wires and keys—notes broken,
Odd and scattered—tell me of a strain
That once filled my very soul with rapture,
But can never be spelled out again!
Only as a bare brown flower-stalk tells me
Of the delicate blossom that it wore;
Of the humming bees in silken petals,
And the downy butterflies it bore!

Only as a crazy boat, sun-blistered,
Drawn up high and dry upon the sands,
Tells me of the blue and buoyant billows
Bearing breezy sails to foreign lands!

Only as a little dead lark, lying

[...] Read more

poem by Ada Cambridge
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Christmas 2010

Christmas is the time that tells
That God was born a baby boy;
And He was called ‘Emmanuel’
(‘God with us’) , and brought us joy!

Christmas is the time that tells
That love of God was born on earth,
Becoming flesh in virgin’s womb,
Proclaiming the ‘King of Kings’ birth!

Christmas is the time that tells
That Word that was God became man,
And dwelt amongst us for some years,
And suffer in all ways, He can.

Christmas is the time that tells
That peace returned to heart and soul,
And brought back hope to sinners too,
Who aim toward a heavenly goal.

Christmas is the time that tells
That prophecy of birth of Christ
In Scriptures came to be fulfilled,
As angel choirs sang in Highest.

Christmas is the time that tells
That God chose poverty at birth,
To know how tough life on earth is,
And showed how woes can become mirth.

Christmas is the time that tells
That Christ was born to save mankind
From sins of present, future, past,
And peace came back to heart and mind.

Copyright by Dr John Celes 07-12-2010

poem by John Celes
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Visits to St Elizabeths

This is the house of Bedlam.

This is the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is the time
of the tragic man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a wristwatch
telling the time
of the talkative man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the honored man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is the roadstead all of board
reached by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the old, brave man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

These are the years and the walls of the ward,
the winds and clouds of the sea of board
sailed by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the cranky man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
beyond the sailor
winding his watch
that tells the time
of the cruel man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a world of books gone flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
of the batty sailor
that winds his watch

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire

'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare

'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.

Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,
Though nymphs forsake, and critics may deride,
The lover's solace, and the author's pride.
What wits, what poets dost thou daily raise!
How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!
Condemn'd at length to be forgotten quite,
With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.
But thou, at least, mine own especial pen!
Once laid aside, but now assumed again,
Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free;
Though spurn'd by others, yet beloved by me:
Then let us soar today, no common theme,
No eastern vision, no distemper'd dream
Inspires -- our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.

When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,
Obey'd by all who nought beside obey;
When Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
Bedecks her cap with bells of every clime;
When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
And weigh their justice in a golden scale;
E'en then the boldest start from public sneers,
Afraid of shame, unknown to other fears,
More darkly sin, by satire kept in awe,
And shrink from ridicule, though not from law.

Such is the force of wit! but not belong
To me the arrows of satiric song;
The royal vices of our age demand
A keener weapon, and a mightier hand.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Demon voice

he tells me to fight not to walk away
he tells me to scream not to talk rational
he tells me to hate not to forgive
he tells me destroy not to create
he tells me to give in
he tells me to kill

he knows i'm getting weaker
he knows it's almost his time
he knows he will be free
he knows he will have fun
he knows it will be a bloody ride to the end
he knows the end is death and so do i

poem by Paddy Jansen
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Drive

Smack, crack, bushwhacked.
Tie another one to the racks, baby.
Hey kids, rock and roll.
Nobody tells you where to go, baby.
What if I ride? what if you walk?
What if you rock around the clock?
Tick-tock. tick-tock.
What if you did? what if you walk?
What if you tried to get off, baby?
Hey, kids, where are you?
Nobody tells you what to do, baby.
Hey kids, shake a leg.
Maybe youre crazy in the head, baby.
Maybe you did. maybe you walked.
Maybe you rocked around the clock.
Tick-tock. tick-tock.
Maybe I ride. maybe you walk.
Maybe I drive to get off, baby.
Hey kids, shake a leg.
Maybe youre crazy in the head, baby.
Ollie, ollie.
Ollie ollie ollie.
Ollie ollie in come free, baby.
Hey, kids, where are you?
Nobody tells you what to do, baby.
Smack, crack. shack-a-lack.
Tie another one to your back, baby.
Hey kids, rock and roll.
Nobody tells you where to go, baby.
Maybe you did. maybe you walk.
Maybe you rock around the clock
Tick-tock. tick-tock.
Maybe I ride. maybe you walk.
Maybe I drive to get off, baby.
Hey kids, where are you?
Nobody tells you what to do, baby.
Hey kids, rock and roll.
Nobody tells you where to go, baby, baby, baby.

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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