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I don't have a no-trade clause. I figure someone is going to pick me up.

quote by Bobby Bonilla
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Symphony

"O Trade! O Trade! would thou wert dead!
The Time needs heart -- 'tis tired of head:
We're all for love," the violins said.
"Of what avail the rigorous tale
Of bill for coin and box for bale?
Grant thee, O Trade! thine uttermost hope:
Level red gold with blue sky-slope,
And base it deep as devils grope:
When all's done, what hast thou won
Of the only sweet that's under the sun?
Ay, canst thou buy a single sigh
Of true love's least, least ecstasy?"
Then, with a bridegroom's heart-beats trembling,
All the mightier strings assembling
Ranged them on the violins' side
As when the bridegroom leads the bride,
And, heart in voice, together cried:
"Yea, what avail the endless tale
Of gain by cunning and plus by sale?
Look up the land, look down the land
The poor, the poor, the poor, they stand
Wedged by the pressing of Trade's hand
Against an inward-opening door
That pressure tightens evermore:
They sigh a monstrous foul-air sigh
For the outside leagues of liberty,
Where Art, sweet lark, translates the sky
Into a heavenly melody.
`Each day, all day' (these poor folks say),
`In the same old year-long, drear-long way,
We weave in the mills and heave in the kilns,
We sieve mine-meshes under the hills,
And thieve much gold from the Devil's bank tills,
To relieve, O God, what manner of ills? --
The beasts, they hunger, and eat, and die;
And so do we, and the world's a sty;
Hush, fellow-swine: why nuzzle and cry?
"Swinehood hath no remedy"
Say many men, and hasten by,
Clamping the nose and blinking the eye.
But who said once, in the lordly tone,
"Man shall not live by bread alone
But all that cometh from the Throne?"
Hath God said so?
But Trade saith "No:"
And the kilns and the curt-tongued mills say "Go!
There's plenty that can, if you can't: we know.
Move out, if you think you're underpaid.
The poor are prolific; we're not afraid;
Trade is trade."'"

[...] Read more

poem by Sidney Lanier
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Nicky Nicky Nicky Nicky Nicky Nick Pick

You can't win the war and the battle cause,
That struggle is in your head.
And kept there seven days a week.
With no sleep there you're reaping.

You can't win the war and the battle cause,
That struggle is in your head.
And kept there seven days a week.
With no sleep there you're reaping.

All you like to do is nitpick my wrongs.
With that constant picking that you see fit.
But only you brood sucking your thumb.
Without that finger licking that you want done!

Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
That's all you really want to do,
Pick bones...
Pick over bones that's gone!

Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
That's all you really want to do,
Pick bones...
Pick over bones that's gone,
With a finger licking done like you've won!

You can't win the war and the battle cause,
That struggle is in your head.
And kept there seven days a week.
With no sleep there you're reaping.

Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
That's all you really want to do,
Pick bones...
Pick over bones that's gone,
With a finger licking done like you've won!

Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
That's all you really want to do,
Pick bones...
Pick over bones that's gone,
With a finger licking done like you've won!

You can't win the war and the battle cause,
That struggle is in your head.
And kept there seven days a week.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Made Okay To Do It Your Way

You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.

Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.

You complained,
That you couldn't take the weight.
And a waiting too late makes it okay.

You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.

You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.

You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.

Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.

You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.

You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Santa Claus Is Back In Town

Well it's Christmas-time pretty baby
Snow is fallin' on the ground
Well it's Christmas-time pretty baby
Snow is fallin' on the ground
You'll be a real good little baby
Cause Santa Clause is back in town!
Got no sleigh with reindeer
No sack on my back
Gonna see me comin' in a big black Cadillac
Oooh Christmas-time pretty baby
Snow is fallin' on the ground
You'll be a real good little baby
Cause Santa Clause is back in town, (yeah he's back in town)
(ho, ho, ho, baby)
Hang up your stockin'
Turn out the light
Santa Clause is coming
Down your chimney tonight!
Oooh Christmas-time pretty baby
Snow is fallin' on the ground
You'll be a real good little baby
Cause Santa Clause is back in town
You'll be a real good little baby
Cause Santa Clause is back in town
(guess who's back in town, you better be a good girl)
(ho, ho, ho, baby)
Santa Clause is back in town

song performed by Kenny Chesney
Added by Lucian Velea
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Medley: Pick A Bale Of Cotton / On Top Of Old Smokey / Midnight Special

Gonna jump down, spin around, pick a bale of cotton
Gonna jump down, spin around, pick a bale a day
Gonna jump down, spin around, pick a bale of cotton
Gonna jump down, spin around, pick a bale a day
Oh lordy
Pick a bale of cotton
Oh lordy
Pick a bale a day
Oh lordy
Pick a bale of cotton
Oh lordy
Pick a bale a day
I said me and my buddy gonna pick a bale of cotton
Now me and my buddy gonna pick a bale a day
I said me and my buddy gonna pick a bale of cotton
Now me and my buddy gonna pick a bale a day
Oh lordy
Pick a bale of cotton
Oh lordy
Pick a bale a day
Oh lordy
Pick a bale of cotton
Oh lordy
Pick a bale a day
On top of old Smokey
all covered with snow
I lost my true lover
by courting so slow
For courting's a pleasure
And parting is brief
and a false-hearted lover
is worse than a thief
On top of old Smokey
all covered with snow
I lost my true lover
by courting so slow
Well, you wake up in the morning
Hear the ding dong ring
You go marching to the table
See the same old thing
See the fork on the table
Nothing in your pan
If you say a thing about it
You're in trouble with the man
Let the midnight special
Shine a light on me
Let the midnight special
Shine it's everlovin' light on me
If you ever go to Houston
Well you'd better act right

[...] Read more

song performed by ABBA
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pick A Bale Of Cotton

Gonna jump down
Spin around
Pick a bale of cotton
Gonna jump down
Spin around
Pick a bale a day
Gonna jump down
Spin around
Pick a bale of cotton
Gonna jump down
Spin around
Pick a bale a day
Oh, lordy
Pick a bale of cotton
Oh, lordy
Pick a bale a day
Oh, lordy
Pick a bale of cotton
Oh, lordy
Pick a bale a day
I said
Me and my buddy gonna pick a bale of cotton
Now
Me and my buddy gonna pick a bale a day
I said
Me and my buddy gonna pick a bale of cotton
Now
Me and my buddy gonna pick a bale a day
Oh, lordy
Pick a bale of cotton
Oh, lordy
Pick a bale a day
Oh, lordy
Pick a bale of cotton
Oh, lordy
Pick a bale a day

song performed by ABBA
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tale XIX

THE CONVERT.

Some to our Hero have a hero's name
Denied, because no father's he could claim;
Nor could his mother with precision state
A full fair claim to her certificate;
On her own word the marriage must depend -
A point she was not eager to defend:
But who, without a father's name, can raise
His own so high, deserves the greater praise;
The less advantage to the strife he brought,
The greater wonders has his prowess wrought;
He who depends upon his wind and limbs,
Needs neither cork nor bladder when he swims;
Nor will by empty breath be puff'd along,
As not himself--but in his helpers--strong.
Suffice it then, our Hero's name was clear,
For call John Dighton, and he answer'd 'Here!'
But who that name in early life assign'd
He never found, he never tried to find:
Whether his kindred were to John disgrace,
Or John to them, is a disputed case;
His infant state owed nothing to their care -
His mind neglected, and his body bare;
All his success must on himself depend,
He had no money, counsel, guide, or friend;
But in a market-town an active boy
Appear'd, and sought in various ways employ;
Who soon, thus cast upon the world, began
To show the talents of a thriving man.
With spirit high John learn'd the world to

brave,
And in both senses was a ready knave;
Knave as of old obedient, keen, and quick,
Knave as of present, skill'd to shift and trick;
Some humble part of many trades he caught,
He for the builder and the painter wrought;
For serving-maids on secret errands ran,
The waiter's helper, and the ostler's man;
And when he chanced (oft chanced he) place to lose,
His varying genius shone in blacking shoes:
A midnight fisher by the pond he stood,
Assistant poacher, he o'erlook'd the wood;
At an election John's impartial mind
Was to no cause nor candidate confined;
To all in turn he full allegiance swore,
And in his hat the various badges bore:
His liberal soul with every sect agreed,
Unheard their reasons, he received their creed:

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Few Can Pick Them To Then Run

How can one live without risks.
Or prevent risks to exist.
Risk taking is a part of this life lived,
As it is...
For everyone.

Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

How can one live without risks.
Or prevent risks to exist.
Risk taking is a part of this life lived,
As it is...
For everyone.

Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

Living life is taking risks.
And no one living can resist...
Those risks.

Few can pick them to then run,
From those risks.
Few can pick them to then run,
From those risks.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tradewinds

(macdonald / salter)
Here I stand looking, looking around me
While all around me what do I see
Unhappy faces behind a painted smile
Heartache and loneliness dressed up in modern style
Unhappy people living in sin and shame
Reflections of myself, life is no easy game
Were caught in the trade winds
The trade winds of our time
Here I stand looking, looking around me
While all around me what do I see
Young girls wholl soon become
Streetwalkers in the night
Young boys, the restless breed
Looking for a fight
Children both rich and poor
Theyre searching for the truth
If they dont find it
God help tomorrows youth
Were caught in the trade winds
The trade winds of our time
Trade winds are blowing, blowing around me
While all around me what do I see
Hatred and jealousy
Brotherhood is dying
Love is the answer
But nobodys buying
Good people turning bad
Some dont but they are few
The winds are blowing
The choice is all up to you
Were caught in the trade winds
The trade winds of our time
Yes were caught up in the trade winds
The trade winds of our time
We are riding on the trade winds
The trade winds of our time

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tale XXI

The Learned Boy

An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and

hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Pick Yourself Up Off the Bottom

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
B ah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

Get back to a simpler time.
If not just in your mind...
When you found a reason and rhyme.
To unwind.

Get back to a purposeness.
When you had much more sense.
And your mind wasn't condensed...
To accepting false lies...
To fly like they do!

Hop-in-that-taxi...and get back to you.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
B ah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
B ah dum.
Pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pick It Up Or Be Gone

Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Don't try to imitate,
Homemade cake.
Oh no.
And don't ever try to duplicate,
A delicious taste.
Or...
Butter up faked mashed potatos.

Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
Oooow.
Pick it up or be gone.
Yeah.
Pick it up or be gone.
Now...
Pick it up or be gone!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.

'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place

No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Pick A Fight

I can't be happy without you
You can't be happy without me
Still you always wanna pick a fight now
You say it's written in the stars
Some psychic read it in my cards
Still you always wanna pick a fight with me

You say that I'm the only one
The one you're looking for
Try and keep a straight face when you laugh
You talk to me like I'm a saint
But all your friends just say
We have been so over for some time

And I know that you had the best intentions for me
I know that what you're saying is goodbye

I can't be happy without you
You can't be happy without me
Still you always wanna pick a fight now
You say it's written in the stars
Some psychic read it in my cards
Still you always wanna pick a fight with me

You say you changed your mind again
You don't know how you feel
Give me some more time is what you say
You wanna use me like a toy
That you get bored with
Now you wanna store me far away

And I know that you had the best intentions for me
I know that what you're saying is goodbye...goodbye

I can't be happy without you
You can't be happy without me
Still you always wanna pick a fight now
You say it's written in the stars
Some psychic read it in my cards
Still you always wanna pick a fight with me

I can't be happy without you
I can't be happy without me

[...] Read more

song performed by Goldfinger from Stomping Ground
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Voice

Lord, have mercy
Bang! - A gunshot rings out
13-year-old baby falls 2 the ground
See the killer runnin' down the street
Tell me killer, can U hear the sound?
Tap, tap, tappin' on your window like a fallin' rain
Cryin' like a baby in a cradle sayin' pick me up again
Ching! - Mr. Politician goes on vacation
Brings along a friend or 2
In the disguise of taxes
Mr. Politician (sends) sends the bill 2 U know who
Tap, tap, tappin' on your window like a fallin' rain
(Tappin' on my window like a fallin' rain)
Cryin' like a baby in a cradle sayin' pick me up again
(Cryin' like a baby, pick me up)
Can't U hear the voice? (Oh yeah)
The nightsticks are still singin'
4-part harmony on brother's back
Justice is doomed when we don't start no S-H
And there's still some I-T in all of that
Tap, tap, tappin' on your window like a fallin' rain
(Can't U hear it tappin' like a fallin' rain fine-tune cryin' like a baby?)
Cryin' like a baby in a cradle sayin' pick me up again
(Pick me up, pick me up)
I'm talkin' about the voice, y'all
Ha, suky, suky now
Sho'mon (Tap)
Sho'mon (Tap)
Help me here (Tap)
Tappin' (Tap)
Tappin', tappin', ha ha (Tap)
Tap on it, tap on it (Tap) (Tap)
Can't U see it's just dirty money?
If your brother man is dyin' in the flow
Take off these chains (Tap) (Tap)
And listen 2 the voice callin' (Tap)
We gotta go, gotta go (Tap) (Tap)
Tap, tap, tappin' on your window like a fallin' rain
(Oh yeah, like a fallin' rain)
Cryin' like a baby in a cradle sayin' pick me up again
(Cryin' like a baby, pick me up, pick me up)
5-4-3-2-1, keep the war over (Tap)
But how many wanna keep the peace (Tap) (Tap)
We keep buildin' guns when we could build love (Tap)
(When we need 2 build love)
Cuz that's when the war will cease
U know it, U know it (Tap) (Tap)
Can't U hear the voices? (Tap) (Tap)
Can't U hear the sound? (Tap)
Take heed, get your house in order (Tap)

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
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Second Book

TIMES followed one another. Came a morn
I stood upon the brink of twenty years,
And looked before and after, as I stood
Woman and artist,–either incomplete,
Both credulous of completion. There I held
The whole creation in my little cup,
And smiled with thirsty lips before I drank,
'Good health to you and me, sweet neighbour mine
And all these peoples.'
I was glad, that day;
The June was in me, with its multitudes
Of nightingales all singing in the dark,
And rosebuds reddening where the calyx split.
I felt so young, so strong, so sure of God!
So glad, I could not choose be very wise!
And, old at twenty, was inclined to pull
My childhood backward in a childish jest
To see the face of't once more, and farewell!
In which fantastic mood I bounded forth
At early morning,–would not wait so long
As even to snatch my bonnet by the strings,
But, brushing a green trail across the lawn
With my gown in the dew, took will and way
Among the acacias of the shrubberies,
To fly my fancies in the open air
And keep my birthday, till my aunt awoke
To stop good dreams. Meanwhile I murmured on,
As honeyed bees keep humming to themselves;
'The worthiest poets have remained uncrowned
Till death has bleached their foreheads to the bone,
And so with me it must be, unless I prove
Unworthy of the grand adversity,–
And certainly I would not fail so much.
What, therefore, if I crown myself to-day
In sport, not pride, to learn the feel of it,
Before my brows be numb as Dante's own
To all the tender pricking of such leaves?
Such leaves? what leaves?'
I pulled the branches down,
To choose from.
'Not the bay! I choose no bay;
The fates deny us if we are overbold:
Nor myrtle–which means chiefly love; and love
Is something awful which one dare not touch
So early o' mornings. This verbena strains
The point of passionate fragrance; and hard by,
This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.
Ah–there's my choice,–that ivy on the wall,
That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Stay The Night

Ooh, ooh, baby
Immatures back-back-back
Ooh, ooh, baby-baby
Ooh, ooh, baby
Romeo, ldb, and batman
You wanna get with me tonight
Ooohhh...
Vesre 1:
Baby, try me, give me all your love
I will never do you wrong
Baby, wont you let down your guard
Then maybe we can go real far
Chorus:
Ooh, ooh, baby
You say you wanna stay the night (stay together)
You know you got a brother high (brother high)
Ill come and pick you up in my ride (my ride, whoa)
Ooh, ooh, baby-baby
Ooh, ooh, baby
You say you wanna stay the night (whoa whoa)
You wanna get with me tonight (get with me tonight)
Ill come and pick you up in my ride (oh oh )
Ooh, ooh, baby-baby
Verse 2: baby, Ill be there to get you around one
So we can go chill and have some fun
Baby, lets cuddle till the sun comes up
And baby, you know that I love you so much
Chorus:
Ooh, ooh, baby
You say you wanna stay the night (stay together)
You know you got a brother high (brother high)
Ill come and pick you up in my ride (ooh, baby)
Ooh, ooh, baby-baby
Ooh, ooh, baby (you say you want me)
You say you wanna stay the night
You wanna get with me tonight (whoa)
Ill come and pick you up in my ride (hold me, hold me)
Ooh, ooh, baby, baby-baby
Rap; (romeo)
Once my niggas get down like that
You didnt know its from the stack
We can move from the front to the back
Watch me make you cool like cat
Make moves, you dont break the rules
Take no fools, if thats school
Romeo, I never lose
With the girls I choose
Immatures back-back-back
Throw your hands to the side
Hey ladies [yeah]

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song performed by Imajin
Added by Lucian Velea
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123

From the bowery to the brimstone
I tried to find your heart
With drugs of initiation
The bottom of a barrel that drops
I understand your causes
Sympathize the motivation
But all the details of this war
Are just self-infatuation
And its 1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go home
Manic blood runs thick my friend
Are you looking for a clean escape
Whats left when the locks have all been broken
Young children of authority
Now how long can you be agile
Dancing between the alter and the mercy seat
Yeah now heres a chance to make a choice
Are you aware of the fire beneath your feet
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go home
The basement lies within us
Our fear comes through the door
Now theres nothing left between us
As the fear becomes a roar
Once that wheel is in motion
Dont you lose what you have found
Im talking about that burning wheel of tongues
Everything that makes it go round and round
Were all born in the devils scorn
They want to see you die
Im asking you are you true
Everything they say is a lie
Its a lie
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go
1 2 3
(were all born)
Nothings for free
(in the devils scorn)
1 2 3

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song performed by Indigo Girls
Added by Lucian Velea
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When You Pick the Ticks Off Monkeys

Your love for monkeys,
Leaves a lump right here...
In my throat!

And I get so emotional,
When you swing from branch to tree branch...
On a vine,
Swinging...
Like one who has swung on a rope!

And when you pick ticks...
From another monkey's fur?
I get teary eyed...
Just watching what occurs!

When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
You remove the itch.
You remove that itch.

Ooo ooo ooo ooo ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh,
You remove the itch.
Ooo ooo ooo ooo ahhh ahhh ahhh,
You remove the itch.
Ooo ooo ooo ooo ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh,
You remove the itch.
You remove the itch.
You remove that itch.

When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
You remove the itch.
You remove that itch.

Your love for monkeys,
Leaves a lump right here...
In my throat!

And I get so emotional,
When you swing from branch to tree branch...
On a vine,
Swinging...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

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poem by Charles Churchill
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