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The mainstream media showed, for example, no blood and guts resulting from the 9/11 attacks.

quote by Bruce Jackson
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These Sentiments Within Them Sit

The increase of fear,
Has those whispering in each other's ears.
People have become afraid and wish to be saved!
But from what can be identified within themselves,
Keeps them running away not to face?
Since all that they have chosen to live,
Has been a product resulting from their own creations.

The toy guns.
The violent video games purchased,
With a waiting in line until there were none.
Racial hatred taught and identifying enemies made.
The sitting in theaters with patience awaiting...
Those movies to panic to scare everyone until they scream.
And people solicit their own nightmares to dream!

Resulting from their own creations...
These devastations within them sit.
Resulting from their own creations...
With sentiments meant to send.
Resulting from their own creations...
And expecting from them,
To heal and mend.

Resulting from their own creations...
These devastations within them sit.
Resulting from their own creations...
With sentiments meant to send.
Resulting from their own creations...
And expecting from them,
To heal and mend.

Resulting from their own creations.
Resulting from their own creations,
Yes...
These sentiments within them sit.
These sentiments within them sit.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mainstream

Can I have this last dance, my darling?
Can I have this last dance with you?
I wanna dance the whole night tonight
And can I have this last dance, my darling?
Can I have this last dance with you?
These are the words that he told to the fellow next door
Mainstream, u.s.a.
I flipped that guy the bird
Mainstream, u.s.a.
Is all I wanna say
Mainstream, u.s.a.
I flipped that guy the bird
Mainstream, u.s.a.
Is all I wanna say
We are the world (back off, fool)
We are (Im talking to you)
We are the world (back off, fool)
Mainstream, u.s.a.
I flipped that guy the bird
Mainstream, u.s.a.
Is all I wanna say
Mainstream, u.s.a.
I flipped that guy the bird
Mainstream, u.s.a.
Is all I wanna say
Notes
The lyrics above are as heard on the original dial-a-song version. the following verse is tacked on to the end of the lofi (das online) version, and is sung superimposed with the first verse in
Hen version:
As I rode the subway this morning
There was a man with a boat beside me
And he tapped out rhythms with a smile on his face
And the tip of his finger
That he found on the floor
And these are the words that he told to the fellow next door

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mainstream U. S. A.

Can I have this last dance, my darling?
Can I have this last dance with you?
I wanna dance the whole night tonight
And can I have this last dance, my darling?
Can I have this last dance with you?
These are the words that he told to the fellow next door
Mainstream, U.S.A.
I flipped that guy the bird
Mainstream, U.S.A.
Is all I wanna say
Mainstream, U.S.A.
I flipped that guy the bird
Mainstream, U.S.A.
Is all I wanna say
We are the world (back off, fool)
We are (I'm talking to you)
We are the world (back off, fool)
Mainstream, U.S.A.
I flipped that guy the bird
Mainstream, U.S.A.
Is all I wanna say
Mainstream, U.S.A.
I flipped that guy the bird
Mainstream, U.S.A.
Is all I wanna say
Notes
The lyrics above are as heard on the original Dial-a-Song version. The following verse is tacked on to the end of the LoFi (DAS Online) version, and is sung superimposed with the first verse in the Then version:
As I rode the subway this morning
There was a man with a boat beside me
And he tapped out rhythms with a smile on his face
And the tip of his finger
That he found on the floor
And these are the words that he told to the fellow next door

song performed by They Might Be Giants
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Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle

Ne'er to the summons of the Eternal laws
More slowly Titan rose, nor drave his steeds,
Forced by the sky revolving, up the heaven,
With gloomier presage; wishing to endure
The pangs of ravished light, and dark eclipse;
And drew the mists up, not to feed his flames,
But lest his light upon Thessalian earth
Might fall undimmed.

Pompeius on that morn,
To him the latest day of happy life,
In troubled sleep an empty dream conceived.
For in the watches of the night he heard
Innumerable Romans shout his name
Within his theatre; the benches vied
To raise his fame and place him with the gods;
As once in youth, when victory was won
O'er conquered tribes where swift Iberus flows,
And where Sertorius' armies fought and fled,
The west subdued, with no less majesty
Than if the purple toga graced the car,
He sat triumphant in his pure white gown
A Roman knight, and heard the Senate's cheer.
Perhaps, as ills drew near, his anxious soul,
Shunning the future wooed the happy past;
Or, as is wont, prophetic slumber showed
That which was not to be, by doubtful forms
Misleading; or as envious Fate forbade
Return to Italy, this glimpse of Rome
Kind Fortune gave. Break not his latest sleep,
Ye sentinels; let not the trumpet call
Strike on his ear: for on the morrow's night
Shapes of the battle lost, of death and war
Shall crowd his rest with terrors. Whence shalt thou
The poor man's happiness of sleep regain?
Happy if even in dreams thy Rome could see
Once more her captain! Would the gods had given
To thee and to thy country one day yet
To reap the latest fruit of such a love:
Though sure of fate to come! Thou marchest on
As though by heaven ordained in Rome to die;
She, conscious ever of her prayers for thee
Heard by the gods, deemed not the fates decreed
Such evil destiny, that she should lose
The last sad solace of her Magnus' tomb.
Then young and old had blent their tears for thee,
And child unbidden; women torn their hair
And struck their bosoms as for Brutus dead.
But now no public woe shall greet thy death
As erst thy praise was heard: but men shall grieve

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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My lifelong friend

[Sri Lanka raids office of pro-opposition news websites
Posted by Karthiyayini on June 30,2012 in Exclusive, Headlines, News, Sri Lanka · 0 Comments
Colombo, June 30 (TruthDive) : Media freedom has always been a huge concern in Sri Lanka. The country shows its ugly face yet again by showcasing it as one of the world's most dangerous countries for journalists.
An independently running and pro-opposition office of two news websites have been raided by Sri Lankan Police. The Police have arrested nine workers including the editor of one of the websites, searched the premises for about three hours on Friday and seized computers and documents.
A statement from government stated that the police officers had acted on a court order, searched and sealed off the office on Friday. The websites were said to be publishing flawed information and had put a ‘blot on Sri Lanka's image.'
The Opposition United National Party member Mangala Samaraweera said that the office had operated two websites - www.srilankamirror.com and www.srilankaxnews.com that belong to the party. He added that the nine arrested employees were released on bail after an appearance before a magistrate.
Samaraweera said that Friday's raid had been initiated as his party's website had uncovered corruption and other unlawful activity by the government.
Gnanasiri Kottigoda, who heads Sri Lanka Working Journalists Association, stated that the police action showed that the government has not ceased to harass and intimidate independent media institutions and journalists in Sri Lanka. He also opined that it is a step towards silencing the independent media groups in Sri Lanka.
The Committee to Protect Journalists said, in the year 2010, Sri Lanka was ranked as the fourth most dangerous country for journalists. Since the beginning of year 2006, at least 14 Sri Lankan media employees were said to have been killed, according to Amnesty International.
www.srilankamirror.com and four other websites were blocked by authorities last year over so-called character assassination, and the action is still in effect for four others.
www.srilankamirror.com went on to file a case in the Supreme Court after which the Telecommunication Regulatory Authority agreed to unblock the website on condition that it would not provide links to blocked or unregistered sites. Several media rights groups and other countries, including the United States had severely criticized the blocking of the websites by the Sri Lankan government.
To top it all, attacks on media men and media institutions either fail to get properly investigated or blocked, according to Reporters without Borders.]

I was born with you and since in the cradle
We crawled together.
It's not a bed of roses,
My bare-feet very familiar with the thorny painful streets.
Sometimes you hide in my eyes as tears
And often remain as a hug in my weeping heart.
You too starved in my difficult times
And you never betray me that's certain as death.
I realized that you never smile but I embrace you
From the bottom of my heart
And you are my lifelong friend, Sorrow!

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Thurso’s Landing

I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.

II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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It Is Because Of The Media

'The media is the reason for our problems.
The media is the reason for our dysfunctions.
The media is the reason why there is conflict.
The media is the reason our kids are the way they are.
The media is the reason for racism and division.
The media is the reason why the economy is perceived,
To be knocking on death's door.
And it is because of the media our great country,
Has fallen into dire straits and has less educated citizens! '

That's a wrap, Sarah.
Very well done.
Now we do have you scheduled for that magazine shoot.
With you standing on the pier in common street clothes.
Very representative of the people.
As well as very clever.

Now...
Should we re-schedule the talk show for next week?
Or...
Should we keep it and move your appearance for the fund-raiser?
Since your announcement...
We have been overflooded with requests.

'What are the ratings for the talk show?
I want to know their demographics.
Also...
Do not schedule any of my activities around the playoffs.
Last year PBS refused to carry my message!
And it is important that my followers know how the media is used,
To manipulate their thinking process.

And that is the reason my campaign is important.
These are issues that must be prioritized...
And addressed!
IF we are going to move forward as a nation!
And get out of this mess!

Here are my questions to be asked,
By those selected reporters.
I need to freshen up before the press conference begins.
Make sure all cameras are placed behind,
Those who flew in from Hollywood.
They are filming a documentary...
To be used to solicit potential donors.
And I need as much as I can get,
To offset my travel expenses.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Takes Some Guts By a Mug Stuck

The battle to be won from things done dumb...
Is the one that has one stung,
By a lover on the run!

What does it take to get a mug stuck,
Out of a rut?
It takes guts,
To never give up!

A fight fought to make things right,
Wont shine a brighter light...
To fly a higher kite.
When tears drip drop,
From eyes at night.

What does it take to get a mug stuck,
Out of a rut?
When tears drip drop,
From eyes at night.
It takes guts,
To never give up!

The battle to be won from things done dumb...
Is the one that has one stung,
By a lover on the run!

What does it take to get a mug stuck,
Out of a rut?
It takes guts,
To never give up!

What does it take to get a mug stuck,
Out of a rut?
It takes guts,
To never give up!

A fight fought to make things right,
Wont shine a brighter light...
To fly a higher kite.
When tears drip drop,
From eyes at night.

It takes some guts by a mug stuck,
To never give up!
And get rid of the pity party,
Sipped from a cup.

It takes some guts by a mug stuck,
To never give up!
And get rid of the pity party,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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XI. Guido

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

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato

Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,
And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet
Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast
Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul
To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind
Of haughty Cato.

He while yet the scales
Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given
The world its master, hating both the chiefs,
Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause
And for his country: since Pharsalia's field
Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart
Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received
Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs
He cherished with new hope and weapons gave
Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war
Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved
Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,
The aim of all his host. And lest the foe
In rapid course triumphant should collect
His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs
Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore
The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought
A routed army sailed upon the main
Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape
And Taenarus open to the shades below
And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Palamon And Arcite; Or, The Knight's Tale. From Chaucer. In Three Books. Book III.

The day approached when Fortune should decide
The important enterprise, and give the bride;
For now the rivals round the world had sought,
And each his number, well appointed, brought.
The nations far and near contend in choice,
And send the flower of war by public voice;
That after or before were never known
Such chiefs, as each an army seemed alone:
Beside the champions, all of high degree,
Who knighthood loved, and deeds of chivalry,
Thronged to the lists, and envied to behold
The names of others, not their own, enrolled.
Nor seems it strange; for every noble knight
Who loves the fair, and is endued with might,
In such a quarrel would be proud to fight.
There breathes not scarce a man on British ground
(An isle for love and arms of old renowned)
But would have sold his life to purchase fame,
To Palamon or Arcite sent his name;
And had the land selected of the best,
Half had come hence, and let the world provide the rest.
A hundred knights with Palamon there came,
Approved in fight, and men of mighty name;
Their arms were several, as their nations were,
But furnished all alike with sword and spear.

Some wore coat armour, imitating scale,
And next their skins were stubborn shirts of mail;
Some wore a breastplate and a light juppon,
Their horses clothed with rich caparison;
Some for defence would leathern bucklers use
Of folded hides, and others shields of Pruce.
One hung a pole-axe at his saddle-bow,
And one a heavy mace to stun the foe;
One for his legs and knees provided well,
With jambeux armed, and double plates of steel;
This on his helmet wore a lady's glove,
And that a sleeve embroidered by his love.

With Palamon above the rest in place,
Lycurgus came, the surly king of Thrace;
Black was his beard, and manly was his face
The balls of his broad eyes rolled in his head,
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red;
He looked a lion with a gloomy stare,
And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair;
Big-boned and large of limbs, with sinews strong,
Broad-shouldered, and his arms were round and long.
Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian use of old)
Were yoked to draw his car of burnished gold.

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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Tore Down A La Rimbaud

Showed me pictures in the gallery
Showed me novels on the shelf
Put my hands across the table
Gave me knowledge of myself.
Showed me visions, showed me nightmares
Gave me dreams that never end
Showed me light out of the tunnel
When there was darkness all around instead.
Tore down a la rimbaud
And I wish my message would come
Tore down a la rimbaud, you know its hard some time
You know its hard some time.
Showed me ways and means and motions
Showed me what its like to be
Gave me days of deep devotions
Showed me things I cannot see.
Tore down a la rimbaud
And I wish my purpose would come
Tore down a la rimbaud, you know its hard some time.
You know its hard some time.
Showed me different shapes and colours
Showed me many different roads
Gave me very clear instructions
When I was in the dark night of the soul.
Tore down a la rimbaud
And I wish my writing would come
Tore down a la rimbaud, you know its hard some time.
You know its hard some time.

song performed by Van Morrison
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Gratitude

Thanks to those who love me,
you made me feel irrplaceable.
Thanks to those who made me smile,
you showed me the true of taste of happinesss.
Thanks to those who envied me,
you made my heart grow fonder.
Thanks to those who cared,
you made me important.
Thanks to those who fought me,
you showed me the true worth of a friend.
Thanks to those who entered my life,
you made me who i am today.
Thanks to those who left,
you showed me that nothing last forever.
Thanks to those who stayed,
you showed me the meaning of love and friendship.
Thanks to those who broke my heart,
you showed me that nobody is worth my trust.
Thanks to those who gossip about me,
you showed me how popular i am.
Thanks to those who try to bring me down,
you showed me how strong i am.
Thanks to those who believed in me,
you showed me how special i am.
Thanks to those who hate me,
you showed me the meaning of the word ' ENEMY '.
Thanks to those who smiled because of me,
you made me feel invulnerable.
Thanks to those who prayed for me,
you made me indomitable.
Thanks to those who taught me,
you made me a success.
Thanks to those who celebrate me,
you made me a superstar.
Thanks to those who underated me,
you showed me how extraordinary i am.
Thanks to those who motivated me,
you brought out the best in me.
Thanks to my parent who gave birth to me,
they made me a human.
Thanks to God who created me,
you made me a super human.

poem by Stanley Oguh
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Bad Blood

Somehow... someway... somewhere
Bad blood - when you speak you know Ill listen
Bad blood - all your kisses now Ill miss them
Bad blood - a bulletin on in car system
Bad blood is back
There are those who complain
There are those who cope
There are those who lose all belief
There are those who still hope
There are those who can solve our problems
There are those who live life like a tv...
Life like a tv soap
Gonna bring bad blood
Bad blood - when you speak you know Ill listen
Bad blood - all your kisses now Ill miss them
Bad blood - a bulletin on in car system
Bad blood is back
There are those you should meet
There are those to avoid
There are those who act brave in defeat
There are those who feel destroyed
There are those who just mute the heartache
There are those for whom life aint over...
Life aint overjoyed
Gonna bring bad blood
Bad blood - when you speak you know Ill listen
Bad blood - all your kisses now Ill miss them
Bad blood - a bulletin on in car system
Bad blood is back
And bad blood breeds bad
Whats good?
Whats good?
Whats good about goodbye?
Heartache...heartache...heartache...
Bad blood - when you speak you know Ill listen
Bad blood - all your kisses now Ill miss them
Bad blood - a bulletin on in car system
Bad blood is back
And bad blood breeds bad
Bad blood... bad blood...

song performed by Abc
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.

Great Alexander was wise Philips son,
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;
The cruel proud Olympias was his Mother,
She to Epirus warlike King was daughter.
This Prince (his father by Pausanias slain)
The twenty first of's age began to reign.
Great were the Gifts of nature which he had,
His education much to those did adde:
By art and nature both he was made fit,
To 'complish that which long before was writ.
The very day of his Nativity
To ground was burnt Dianaes Temple high:
An Omen to their near approaching woe,
Whose glory to the earth this king did throw.
His Rule to Greece he scorn'd should be confin'd,
The Universe scarce bound his proud vast mind.
This is the He-Goat which from Grecia came,
That ran in Choler on the Persian Ram,
That brake his horns, that threw him on the ground
To save him from his might no man was found:
Philip on this great Conquest had an eye,
But death did terminate those thoughts so high.
The Greeks had chose him Captain General,
Which honour to his Son did now befall.
(For as Worlds Monarch now we speak not on,
But as the King of little Macedon)
Restless both day and night his heart then was,
His high resolves which way to bring to pass;
Yet for a while in Greece is forc'd to stay,
Which makes each moment seem more then a day.
Thebes and stiff Athens both 'gainst him rebel,
Their mutinies by valour doth he quell.
This done against both right and natures Laws,
His kinsmen put to death, who gave no cause;
That no rebellion in in his absence be,
Nor making Title unto Sovereignty.
And all whom he suspects or fears will climbe,
Now taste of death least they deserv'd in time,
Nor wonder is t if he in blood begin,
For Cruelty was his parental sin,
Thus eased now of troubles and of fears,
Next spring his course to Asia he steers;
Leavs Sage Antipater, at home to sway,
And through the Hellispont his Ships made way.
Coming to Land, his dart on shore he throws,
Then with alacrity he after goes;
And with a bount'ous heart and courage brave,
His little wealth among his Souldiers gave.
And being ask'd what for himself was left,
Reply'd, enough, sith only hope he kept.

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Bradstreet
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If You Want Blood You Got It

Its criminal, there ought to be a law
Criminal, and you know what were shootin for
Shouting at the other guy
When his back is turned
Dont know the reason why
Aint it bout time you learn
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
Blood on the sheets, blood on the rocks
Blood in the gutter, give my last drop
You want blood, you got it
Wha-ooh
Its animal, livin in the human zoo
Its animal, and I know what you gotta do
Its the curse of the working man
Givin more and gettin less
Doin everything he can, cleaning up the mess
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
Blood on the sheets, blood on the rocks
Blood in the gutter, give my last drop
You want blood, you got it
Ooooh (shove it)?
You want blood, you want blood
After you
Blood on the sheets, blood on the rocks,
Blood in the gutter, give my last drop
You want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it

song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Blood And Fire

Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
There is no more water to out the fire
There is no more water to out the fire
Let it burn, let it burn
Let it burn, burn burn
Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
Judgement has come and mercy has gone (mercy come and gone)
Ooh, weak hearts shall lick up and spit up (weakheart must get lick up)
Judgement has come and mercy has gone (judgement time is here)
Ooh, weak hearts shall lick up and spit up (weakheart must get sick up)
Let it burn, let it burn
Let it burn, burn burn (mercy gone)
Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
Rasta Hail!
Blessed is the weed, the healing of all nations in every corner of the earth
Blessed are the fields of sensimillia that enlighten and erich our soul
Blood and fire mek it burn bredren
All weak hearts shall lick up and spit up
And all righteous shall stand
Hail, Rasta hail and wail (rastafari)
Hail Rasta don't quail (we not quail)
Let it burn, burn burn
Let it burn, burn burn

song performed by Ub40
Added by Lucian Velea
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Blood & Fire

Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
There is no more water to out the fire
There is no more water to out the fire
Let it burn, let it burn
Let it burn, burn burn
Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
Judgement has come and mercy has gone (mercy come and gone)
Ooh, weak hearts shall lick up and spit up (weakheart must get lick up)
Judgement has come and mercy has gone (judgement time is here)
Ooh, weak hearts shall lick up and spit up (weakheart must get sick up)
Let it burn, let it burn
Let it burn, burn burn (mercy gone)
Blood, blood, blood; blood and fire
Rasta hail!
Blessed is the weed, the healing of all nations in every corner of the earth
Blessed are the fields of sensimillia that enlighten and erich our soul
Blood and fire mek it burn bredren
All weak hearts shall lick up and spit up
And all righteous shall stand
Hail, rasta hail and wail (rastafari)
Hail rasta dont quail (we not quail)
Let it burn, burn burn
Let it burn, burn burn

song performed by Ub40
Added by Lucian Velea
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With Rose In Hand

Prayer is worth more than a rose
in my hand where love grows
for God and all he knows
The rose has a thorn
which Jesus felt on the crown he had worn.
the rose is red as the blood from his head
when he was crucifed before we were born.

[...] Read more

poem by Meg Harrison
Added by Poetry Lover
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In my other life ~ ~ ~ Song Lyric's

In my other life, I marched troops in formations
I manned the gun and turned them into men
In my other life, I had so many wayward women
They broke me down and made me, what I am

They showed me roads that men seldom travel
They taught me things can work only if, you try
That losing could mean your really winning
They showed me sorrow, and taught me, how to cry

In my other life, I consumed minds recreations
I made peace with myself, these insecurities, could not stand
In my other life, I lived with incarcerations
They broke me down and made me, what I am

They showed me roads that men seldom travel
They taught me things can work only if, you try
That losing could mean your really winning
They showed me sorrow, and taught me, how to cry

In my other life, I worked hard to make a living
I gave up my recklessness, and vowed never, to give in
In my other life, I was married and had children
There broke me down and made me, what I am

They showed me roads that men seldom travel
They taught me things can work only if, you try
That losing could mean your really winning
They showed me sorrow, and taught me, how to cry

In my other life, I was drawn to the Truth and His resurrection
I confessed my sins, by faith believed and made Him, my Lord
In my other life, I learned to die to self and surrender
Conviction broke me down; the Blood made me, what I am

He showed me a narrow road men seldom travel
He gave me grace to change, in the Sweet, by and by
That losing could mean your really winning
He showed me His love, the price He paid, the reason why

He showed me His love, the price He paid, the reason why

Words & Music by Gene Gamble/Two-G’s Music © 1995

poem by Gene Gamble
Added by Poetry Lover
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