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I feel that it is healthier to look out at the world through a window than through a mirror. Otherwise, all you see is yourself and whatever is behind you.

quote by Bill Withers
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The Mirror Struggled

The mirror struggled; reflecting beauty such as hers
Prescribed a glory in the challenge – a fairytale
Or such as like! To shimmer back hypnotic hues
From auras of her skin – how do mirrors cope?
Hoary tales of pretty adolescent buds
Could never hope to match the tomes of dreamy
Pulchritude apprising us of such a belle as she.

The mirror shone; and as it worked itself, a moment –
Did it overlook the hidden melancholy?
Were melting eyes bedewed–? Florid lips imbued
With mournfulness? The hindrance of the silver glass!
Oh! to seek – to know the meaning of the sorrow!
She (with tearful hair, an image out of heaven)
Never opened up her heart. The mirror struggled.

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

m irror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
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mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Tearful Eyes

The mirror laughed; it gleaned my thoughts
And saw me cry my want:
Synthetic views - pathetic clues
To how I tick - and now you taunt,
You bleeding mirror, jibe another!
Just because I dream…

To be the mighty hero wise!
And perch atop the sodden hill
Of blood and pungent death,
To lead our race from sure demise.
Let's regain, collect, and rest
Before the battle slams
Our dauntless nerve. And now to rise!
Come follow me - we'll slay the foe!
See my cloak unfurl.
Through screams and wails, he fails and dies.
Look! he falls across his minions'
Path. I laugh aloud.
My warriors hold me to the skies.
Overhead the clouds recede,
Thinning out the black.

And then I fade in pallid lies.
Returning back to conscious state,
I let the mirror slate me:
Fathoming my remote disguise,
Reflecting back my hopeless lot.
Oh to smash the thing!
If I could see through tearful eyes.

Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Magic Mirror

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Who’s the fairest fair of all?
Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Who’s the smartest head of all?
Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Who’s that girl standing tall?
Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Who's to hold me when I fall?
Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Why are you not answering my call?

Oh mirror...

The lines and the scars you do not hide;
My scattered thoughts you would not guide.

Me myself and I; the gap so wide.
Oh mirror; you make me look inside!

You show me a girl against the tide,
By the rules she would not abide.

Within your frame, a caged spirit am I?
By your name, what voice have I?

Oh mirror … can you hear me?
My mirror is deceiving me!

I will show you my smile... will you let me?
A star in my eyes... will you get me?

I will show you a happy face... please let me!
A shelter from myself... please get me!

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Do not show me her face;
I have killed her and left no trace.

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
She shall never stutter;
With a new voice, words she will utter.

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Her fear you shall never show;
Fearless she is to know.

Mirror... mirror on the wall,
Do not point at her scars;
It hurts... not her scars.

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poem by Marwa Rakha
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Mirror, Mirror

(m. sembello/d. matkowsky)
Mirror, mirror
On the wall
You said you had the answers to it all
You never told me Id take a fall
Mirror, mirror
On the wall
You, you turned my life
Into a paperback novel
Words that come to life
Inside your little melodrama
Chapter one
When I was young
I came to you with my problems
Chapter two
You promised me love
And anything that I desired
Tell me mirror, mirror on the wall
thought you said you had the answers to it all
Never told me I was gonna take a fall
Tell me mirror, mirror on the wall
You have nailed my heart
Upon the wall for your pleasures
You have cast a spell
That cannot ever be broken
And now
My eyes grow tired
I watch my picture getting older
But i
Remain the same
Trapped in this mirror forever
Tell me mirror, mirror on the wall
thought you said you had the answers to it all
You never told me I was gonna take a fall
Tell me mirror, mirror on the wall
I talk to you each night
And I follow your advise
Youve been wrong
Whats the price I have to pay
For this fairy tale thing called love?
Let me go!
Tell me mirror, mirror on the wall
thought you said you had the answers to it all
Never told me I was gonna take a fall
Tell me mirror, mirror on the wall
Tell me mirror, mirror on the wall
thought you said you had the answers to it all
Never told me I was gonna take a fall
Tell me mirror, mirror on the wall
Let me go

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song performed by Diana Ross
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Mirror To Mirror

Written by gerry beckley, 1994
Found on hourglass.
I havent seen forever
Dont even know her name
I call on dreams and other schemes
To try and win that game
Now that its over, darling
Look into my eyes
Seein your own reflection
Much to your surprise
Were seein mirror to mirror
Face to face
We look but we cannot see
Mirror to mirror
Seems to trace
What happened to you and me
And though we tried in earnest
The distant silence yells
We call on wings and other things
To try and break that spell
Now that its over, darling
Truth in the common cause
We stare at our own indifference
By seeing the others flaws
Were seein mirror to mirror
Face to face
We look but we cannot see
Mirror to mirror
Seems to trace
What happened to you and me
Oh, mirror to mirror, mirror to mirror
Mirror to mirror, whats come over me
As we look inside, theres nowhere to turn
Theres nowhere to hide
Now that its over, darling
Look into my eyes
Seein your own reflection
Much to your surprise
Were seein mirror to mirror
Face to face
We look but we cannot see
Mirror to mirror
Seems to trace
What happened to you and me
Oh, mirror to mirror, mirror to mirror
Mirror to mirror, whats come over me
Mirror to mirror, mirror to mirror
Mirror to mirror, whats come over me

song performed by America
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

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

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Mirror, Mirror, Bloody Fibber

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Can't you show me tall and slim?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Must I look so bloody grim?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
You're distorting my poor waist!
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And why the heck am I defaced?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Why have I a double chin?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And what's the stupid, goofy grin?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Pointless asking ‘Who’s the fairest? –
More bloody likely, 'Who’s the queerest? ’
Now look, I paid a big bucks for thee,
So why can’t you be nice to me?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who’s the fairest of them all?
Me, you say? Ah, that's better –
Mirror, mirror, bloody fibber!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

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poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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Mirror Mirror - Mirror Me!

Mirror Mirror on the Wall
What stories you could tell,
Of faces that have gazed in you
Some so happy - others blue
Some thinking - gosh I look like Hell!
Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Mirror Mirror oh so Tall
Does my bum look big in this?
Does my skirt and jacket clash?
Is it OK for Julies bash?
Will this ensemble be a hit or miss?
Mirror Mirror oh so Tall

Mirror Mirror - curtain call
Do I look a real Pooh Bah?
Is my wig the right way round?
Does my crinoline reach the ground?
Is my moustache correct for a Huusar?
Mirror Mirror - curtain call.

Mirror Mirror in the Hall
Oh will I be 'Belle of the Ball'?
Will my beehive survive the twist and shout?
Or will my carefully padded top dropp ou?
Oh dear - will my stillettos make me fall?
Mirror mirror in the Hall.

Mirror Mirror Oh! apall
Sitting in the dentists chair.
'Just relax and let me take a look'
(scratching, scraping with a dentists hook)
What does the Dentist really see in there
Mirror Mirror Oh! apall

Morror Mirror - you'll recall
When I was very young and free
My face was smooth my eyes were bright
Even very late at night!
But now I'm really old and ninety-three
Mirror Mirror - you'll recall.

Mirror Mirror - please don't fall
Broken glass - bad luck for seven years!
Reflect my vissage just once more
Then you can shatter on the floor
With all my fractured hopes and flowing tears.
Mirror Mirror - please don't fall.

(John Knight - September 2009)

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poem by John Knight
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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

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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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.

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poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Salut Au Monde

O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
Each answering all--each sharing the earth with all.

What widens within you, Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and lands are here?
Who are the infants? some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about each
other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they, fill'd with dwellers?

Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens;
Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east--America is provided for in the
west;
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends;
Within me is the longest day--the sun wheels in slanting rings--it
does not set for months;
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above the
horizon, and sinks again;
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, plants, volcanoes, groups,
Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.

What do you hear, Walt Whitman?

I hear the workman singing, and the farmer's wife singing;
I hear in the distance the sounds of children, and of animals early
in the day;
I hear quick rifle-cracks from the riflemen of East Tennessee and
Kentucky, hunting on hills;
I hear emulous shouts of Australians, pursuing the wild horse;
I hear the Spanish dance, with castanets, in the chestnut shade, to
the rebeck and guitar;
I hear continual echoes from the Thames;
I hear fierce French liberty songs;
I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old
poems;
I hear the Virginia plantation-chorus of negroes, of a harvest night,
in the glare of pine-knots;
I hear the strong baritone of the 'long-shore-men of Mannahatta;
I hear the stevedores unlading the cargoes, and singing;
I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north-west lakes;
I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike the grain
and grass with the showers of their terrible clouds;
I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively falling on the

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poem by Walt Whitman
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To Live (exist) : The love/hate relationships people share with mirrors

The first time he saw a mirror,
he was minutes old in a hospital.
Already getting used to the warmth of his blanket away from his mother,
his toothless grins and coos of his reflection meant nothing,
he didn’t know the meaning.

The 607th time he saw a mirror,
he was exactly three and dressed in best.
A mother’s gift of a round, ornate mirror; his tiny hands could not grasp it enough.
Hair parted down the middle, chin - up and to the right, is it impossible for children to take serious portraits?

The 1,501st time he saw a mirror,
He was three and two months in the place he would soon love the most - an old practice dance room.
Cheered on by mother, brother, and father’s spirit, scorned by the new fatherly figure, he learned quickly and instantly obsessed his figure in the room lined with mirrors.
In spare time, his mirror never left his hand.

The 18,409th time he saw a mirror,
he was seven, almost eight, and in advanced ballet.
Thin and lithe, different with no friends.
All he wanted to see was his reflection as he danced in the mirrored room.

The 39,743rd time he saw a mirror,
he was fourteen and devastated in a foster home.
Abuse lies in the past, but memories linger in the present and future, revisited when he looked into the mirror.
His mother gone for a decade, his brother a traitor, his abuser in jail, his shelterer overdosed in 62 medications.
His neglected reflection begging the original to return, it missed it’s friend.

The 40,026th time he saw a mirror,
he was fifteen in an empty train boxcar with unsure destinations, his brother refusing to separate, a homeless man passed out on rotting sacks.
Dressed in rags, his only possession his mother’s gift.
Who was this stranger in the grimy and smudged illusion?

The 40,328th time he saw a mirror,
he was sixteen and living in a wealthy man’s house.
Given new clothes and advice to act fashionably, he had become quite taken to the aristocrat’s daughter.
The mirror, polished and shined every hour, forgave it’s old friend, but never forgot the years of neglect, sucking up won’t pay debts.

The 43,692nd time he saw a mirror,
he was at one of the aristocrat’s luncheons.
He was given an ink bottle and told as long as he was faking status he should draw a mustache on himself and use a French accent.
The forever-changed friend in another dimension consoled him as the tears fell collected on his reflection in the gentlemen’s room.

The 45,811th time he saw a mirror,
he was seventeen and the prom date of his fancy.
Aware that her father would not approve, he wanted to run away with her.
He frantically checked his mirror every few seconds from nerves as he made himself presentable.
When she said yes, the mirror was shoved away into his trouser pocket again to be forgotten, next to the ink bottle.

The 45,812th time he saw a mirror,
he and his bride-to-be ran through the woods, hiding from search parties.

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poem by Kristion Robideaux
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See Me In The Mirror

See me in the mirror if you want to
See me in the mirror if you really want to
Maybe not too clear, but the face you'll see is mine
Do you feel my eyes burning through you
Do you feel the burn when my eyes see through you
Do you see my eyes when they burn into your mind
I can feel the teardrops hit the ground where I'm layed
I can feel you breathing while I sleep through the day
See you in a vision in the dark with no light?
Your soul may go to heaven, but your heart's mine tonight
Do you feel my skin when you touch me
Do you feel my skin when you reach and touch me
Cold and blue and thin but it's still somehow alive
And you can feel my blood running through you
You can feel the rush of my blood run through you
You can feel the gush when my blood runs up your spine
And I can feel the teardrops hit the ground where I'm layed
I can feel you breathing while I sleep through the day
See you in a vision in the dark with no light?
Your soul may go to heaven, but your heart's mine tonight
See me in your mirror if you want to
See me in the mirror if you really want to
Maybe not too clear, but the face you'll see is mine
See me in the mirror, mirror, mirror
See me in the mirror, mirror
See me in the mirror, mirror
See me in the mirror, mirror
See me in the mirror, mirror, mirror

song performed by Alice Cooper
Added by Lucian Velea
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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The Rain

(rock the joint)
Me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh-huh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
When the rain hits my window
I take and {inhale, cough} me some indo
Me and timbaland, ooh, we sang a jangle
We so tight, that you get our styles tango
Sway on dosie-do like you loco
{singing} can we get kinky tonight?
Like coco, so-so
You don't wanna play with my yo-yo
I smoke my hydro on the dee-low
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (say what?)
Yeah..
Beep beep, who got the keys to the jeep? v-r-rrrrrrrooooom!
(uh-huh) i'm drivin to the beach
Top down, loud sounds, see my peeps (uhh)
Give them pounds, now look who it be (who it be)
It be me me me and timothy (me me!)
Look like it's bout to rain, what a shame (uh-huh)
I got the armor-all to shine up the stain
Oh missy, try to maintain
Icky-icky-icky-icky-icky-icky-icky..
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
(uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (say what? uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (yeah)

[...] Read more

song performed by Missy Elliott
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mirror Mirror

I see a damsel
In danger and distress
I see that she is pretty
I see a young girl
Dressed in a dirty dress
I see that she is pretty
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who's the fairest one of all
I see a fat girl
With her hair a mess
I see that she is pretty
I see a proud girl
She's pregnant i would guess
I see that she is pretty
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who's the fairest one of all
Mirror mirror do not fail
Who deserves to go to jail
I see the school girls
Dressed in their sunday best
I see that they are pretty
I see the wagon trains
Of pioneer women heading west
I see that they are pretty
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who's the fairest one of all
Creature creature, here the plan
Leads unto the fall of man
I see a matron
Unbuttoning a tightly fitting dress
I see that she is pretty
I see a maiden
She's careless like all the rest
I see that she is pretty
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who's the fairest one of all
Mirror mirror do not fail
Who deserves to go to jail
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who's the prettiest one of all
Mirror mirror humor me
Do they see what i see
Gordon gano: vocal, guitar, violin, baglama
Brian ritchie: upright bass, reed organ
Guy hoffman: drums, percussion, vocal
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dv's perversion room, milwuakee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission

song performed by Violent Femmes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mirror Mirror (I See A Damsel)

I see a damsel
In danger and distress
I see that she is pretty
I see a young girl
Dressed in a dirty dress
I see that she is pretty
Mirror mirror on the wall
Whos the fairest one of all
I see a fat girl
With her hair a mess
I see that she is pretty
I see a proud girl
Shes pregnant I would guess
I see that she is pretty
Mirror mirror on the wall
Whos the fairest one of all
Mirror mirror do not fail
Who deserves to go to jail
I see the school girls
Dressed in their sunday best
I see that they are pretty
I see the wagon trains
Of pioneer women heading west
I see that they are pretty
Mirror mirror on the wall
Whos the fairest one of all
Creature creature, here the plan
Leads unto the fall of man
I see a matron
Unbuttoning a tightly fitting dress
I see that she is pretty
I see a maiden
Shes careless like all the rest
I see that she is pretty
Mirror mirror on the wall
Whos the fairest one of all
Mirror mirror do not fail
Who deserves to go to jail
Mirror mirror on the wall
Whos the prettiest one of all
Mirror mirror humor me
Do they see what I see
Gordon gano: vocal, guitar, violin, baglama
Brian ritchie: upright bass, reed organ
Guy hoffman: drums, percussion, vocal
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwuakee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission

song performed by Violent Femmes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mirror Of Love

Sung by belle (flashs special floosie)
Why I love you though you treat me bad.
cos when I look at you Im looking through the mirror of love.
Oh the mirror of love and you look alright,
cos when I look at you Im looking through the mirror of love.
Youre such a cool lover,
But youre such a cruel lover,
Treat me like Im a fool,
I hate you but you know I would kill for you.
Youre a mean and obscene lover,
But I would have no other,
Even though you treat me bad,
You were the best man I ever had,
cos through the mirror of love, mirror of love,
When I see you through the mirror of love,
Youre alright and I forget that youre bad,
cos when I look at you Im looking through the mirror of love.
Why I love you though you treat me bad,
cos when I look at you Im looking through the mirror of love.
The mirror of love you sure look alright.
I see your reflection when Im looking through the mirror of love.
Youre a crude and a rude lover,
But I would have no other,
You slap me down, treat me bad,
Youre a two-timing swine and you drive me mad.
Youre a mean and obscene lover,
But you are my dream lover,
cos even though you treat me bad,
You were the best man I ever had,
cos through the mirror of love, mirror of love,
I see your reflection in the mirror of love.
And youre alright though you treat me bad.
When I see you Im looking through the mirror of love.
Oh the mirror of love, sure look alright
cos when I see you Im looking through the mirror of love.

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mirror, Mirror

Been looking for love
I never could find it
While Im standing here
And he is so blinded by her silly ways
He just cant imagine
Shes playing a game
A game that he played for so long, oh
I want him to know
Just how much I love him
I wanted to show
But he just believes
Im a friend he can trust
But I wanna touch him
I love him enough
To heal all the hurt in his heart
Oh yes I do but how do I start
Mirror, mirror
On the wall
Can you tell me who to call?
When the one I love
Is loving someone who cant see
Mirror, mirror
On the wall
Tell me if hell ever fall so in love with me
Or could it be its just make believe
Boy I had a dream
Or maybe a vision
That I was your queen
Cause I fit the slipper
You took me away
To happily ever
We laughed and we made
Sweet love till the sun came again
Oh yeah we did, hmm
But that was the end, oh
Mirror, mirror
On the wall
Can you tell me who to call?
When the one I love
Is loving someone who cant see
Mirror, mirror
On the wall
Tell me if hell ever fall so in love with me
Or could it be its just make believe
Oh, if youre looking for love
Its right in your face
Ive been waiting for you
So dont run away
Fairy tales can come true
If you believe

[...] Read more

song performed by Kelly Price
Added by Lucian Velea
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