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Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time.

quote by E.B. White
Added by Lucian Velea
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Under Suspicion

(d linde/ a rush)
Well, Ive been mistreated
Been lied to and cheated
Misused and abused
Like something that you throw away
First you fill me with thunder
Then you let me go under
You can run, you can hide
But you aint gonna get away
Coz youre under suspicion
Of leaving the scene of a broken heart
Under suspicion
Of a hit and run love affair
You aint got a conscience
And you made me the victim
Of a cruel and unusual crime
Now youre under suspicion
Under suspicion
Under suspicion
Under suspicion of a hit and run love affair
Hey yeah yeah
Whoo etc
No matter where you be going
I got ways of knowing
And somewhere down the line
Youre gonna have to pay
Hey
Coz youre under suspicion
Of leaving the scene of a broken heart yeah
Under suspicion
Of a hit and run love affair
You aint got a conscience
And you made me the victim
Of a cruel and unusual crime
Now youre under suspicion
Under suspicion
Under suspicion
Yeah under suspicion of a hit and run love affair
Yeah yeah yeah
Under suspicion
Under suspicion
Aint got no where to run coz youre under suspicion
Under suspicion
Under suspicion
Under suspicion
Of leavin the scene of a broken heart
Under suspicion
Yeah under suspicion of a hit and run love affair

song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Under Suspicion

Rush/linde
Well Ive been mistreated
Lied to and cheated
Misled and abused
Like an old rag you threw away
First you fill me with thunder
Then you let me go under
You can run, you can hide
But you aint gonna get away
Cos youre under suspicion
Of leavin the scene of a broken heart
Under suspicion of a hit and run love affair
Well you aint got a conscience
And youve made me the victim
Of a cruel and unusual crime
Now youre under suspicion, under suspicion
Under suspicion of a hit and run love affair
No matter where youll be going
I got ways of knowing
Somewhere down the line
Youre gonna pay
Cos youre under suspicion
Of leavin the scene of a broken heart
Under suspicion of a hit and run love affair
Well you aint got a conscience
And youve made me the victim
Of a cruel and unusual crime
Now youre under suspicion, under suspicion
Under suspicion of a hit and run love affair
Under suspicion,under suspicion
Under suspicion,under suspicion....

song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Suspicion

Ain't it like the sun to never shine
And leave you in the dark
Ain't it like the ones we left behind
Or were they moving on
Getting used to all alone
Just pretending you was here
Voices tearing through the halls
Get used to it kid
Suspicion, shame on the things we did
Suspicion, stealing and lying to prove
Suspicion, it's cold and dark as a well
But it's just suspicion
Ain't it like the gals who want to kiss
To be a friend to you
Ain't it like the string of consequence
To put the faith in you
All I want to do is buy some time
For the sake of memory
All I want to do is to try
To hold on to these things
Suspicion, haunting the streets of time
Suspicion, boys they really got us this time
Suspicion, it's cold and dark as a well
Suspicion
For all the things we need
We only want the ones
We couldn't seem to keep
We hurt the ones we love
We hurt the ones we love
We hurt the ones we love
Get used to it kid
Suspicion, haunting the streets of time
Suspicion, boy they really got us this time
Suspicion, shame on the things we did
Suspicion, get used to kid

song performed by Ryan Adams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Under Suspicion

(b. tyler/p. hopkins/p. oxendale)
Producer for bonnie: jim steinman
I put my trust in you cos Im not the suspicious kind
But it seems to me that theres someone on your mind
And maybe Im wrong and maybe theres some mistake
But I wont take any chances, Im watching every move you make
I never felt so scared and helpless before
I wish I could believe in you but I just gotta be sure
Youre under suspicion all of the time
Youre under suspicion all of the time
When we talk I can see you cant look me straight in the eye
Whats all the secrecy, you got me wondering why
Is it someone you met that could make you regret your decision
How could you forget all our plans and all our ambitions
Dont try to pull the wool right over my eyes
You think youre pretty smart but I can see right through your disguise
Youre under suspicion all of the time
Youre under suspicion all of the time
Instrumental
Youre under suspicion all of the time
Youre under suspicion all of the time
Youre under suspicion all of the time
Youre under suspicion
Instrumental
Youre under suspicion all of the time
Youre under suspicion all of the time

song performed by Bonnie Tyler
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wolves, Lower

Suspicion yourself, suspicion yourself, dont get caught.
Suspicion yourself, suspicion yourself, let us out.
Wilder lower wolves. heres a house to put wolves out the door.
In a corner garden, wilder lower wolves.
House in order. house in order. house in order. house in order.
Down there theyre rounding a posse to ride.
(repeat verse)
Suspicion yourself, suspicion yourself, dont get caught.
Suspicion yourself, suspicion yourself, suspicion us all.
Wilder lower wolves. heres a house to put wolves out the door.
In a corner garden, wilder lower wolves.
House in order. house in order. house in order. house in order.
Down there theyre rounding a posse to ride.

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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Suspicion

Where were you yesterday?
I called you up
No one answered
The phone rings now
All the time
I pick it up
No one answers
I know it seems like I just cant go ahead
Sometimes its like holding a gun to my head
I get the green light but Im still seeing red
Something I cant stand
Suspicion
Suspicion
In the park, yesterday
I saw a face that spelled danger
A friendly smile, a worried look
I mistook for a stranger
I keep on fighting and I know I cant win
Somethings biting me Ill never give in
Coming back to me again and again
The message in my hand
Suspicion
Suspicion
Eating away at me, it wont let go
Suspicion is following, everywhere I go
He walks before me, hes someone that I dont know
Suspicion
Suspicion
Where were you yesterday?
Where will you be tomorrow?

song performed by Asia
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Time To Feel Forlorn and Reconstruct What's Torn

There's a designated time in the universe for everything:

A time to limit, a time to expand.
A time to rise, time to lower and lend a hand.

A time to maintain, a time to abandon.
A time to develop, a time to rest at random.

A time to communicate, a time for silence.
A time to kiss your enemy, a time to concede wins.

A time to spite, a time to please.
A time for respite, a time to tease.

A time to process, a time to confess.
A time to do more. A time to do less.

A time to dominate. A time to captivate.
A time to plunge. A time to resurface straight.

A time to maximise. A time to minimise.
A time to diminish. A time to optimise.

A time to sacrifice. time to insist on rights.
A time to be selfish. A time to be concerned about plights.

A time to be big. A time to be small.
A time to care for a special one. A time to love all.

A time to add dimension. A time to simplify.
A time to advocate egalitarianism.
A time to exult.
A time to default.
A time to be accepting of imperfect humanism.

A time to enhance. A time to simplify.
A time to criticise. A time to dignify.

A time to produce. A time to use.
A time to relent. A time to refuse.

A time to demand. A time to give.
A time to die. a time to live.

A time to survive. A time to admit defeat.
A time to lie. A time to walk on your feet.

A time to compete. A time to not.
A time to remember. A time to concede you forgot.

[...] Read more

poem by Hercolena Oliver
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Democracy v Liberty

The fathers of democracy.
The ancient Greek philosophers
were dependent on slavery.

Which leaves me in a quandary.
How can it be democracy
to have such inequality?

I think democracy should be
a universal human right.
Though it is not quite obviously.

An ideal to aspire to.
Which one day might be possible.
The time has come now to review.

What we mean by democracy.
If everybody has their say.
It might well lead to anarchy.

When we elect a government.
The will of the majority
is what they’re meant to represent..

But it seems they rarely do.
This cannot be democracy.
the many are ruled by the few.

Who gain control quite legally
because their wealth allows them to
encouraged by our apathy.

The systems open to abuse
The people have the power to
insist on change; which we don’t use.

We vote or not just as we choose.
A facet of democracy.
I would be hesitant to lose.

It seems to me democracy
is something which we can’t achieve
and still retain our liberty.

There is no way that I can see
which will be fair to everyone.
I must admit despondently.

A partial democracy
is what we have and will retain

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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All Different, But Still The Same

Some people have short hair, some have long.
Some people have thick hair; some people’s hair is all gone.

Some people have black hair, some have gray.
Some people have brown hair, some blonde, some red.
Some people’s hair a color unsaid.

Some people are short, some people are tall.
Some people will love you; some won’t like you at all.

Some people like hot weather, some like cold.
Some people are timid, some people are bold.
Some people have dark skin, some people have light.
Some people have black skin, some people have white.

Some people eat meat; some won’t touch it at all.
Some people have a good memory, some can’t recall.
Some people accept Christ, some never will.
Some people are stingy, some people give.

Some people like school, some people don’t.
Some people will excel, some people won’t.
Some people smoke cigarettes, some never will.
Some people are honest, some people steal.

Some people have book knowledge;
But don’t know the Holy Book.
Some people burn food, some people can cook.

Some people are old, some people are young.
Some people do smart things, some people do dumb.

Some people just have a diploma
Some people have degrees.
Some people do things slow, some with a breeze.
Some people are complainers, some easy to please.

Some people hate shopping, some stay in the mall.
Some people hate God, but God loves us all.

We are all different, but still the same.

When I get cut, I bleed red;
You get cut, red blood you’ll shed.

Some people are plump, some people are thin.
But we are all the same, we’re all human being.

Copyright © 2010-Phyllis Strong

poem by Phyllis Strong
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Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
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Nigeria: The slumber

Nigeria, a people that suffer
A people that strive, a people that hunger
A people in a dark, deep and dangerous slumber
A people whose greed, ignorance and corruption linger
Whose deep wound heals on one side
but bleeds on the other
A people dragged into the mud
by those that arise from the mud
A people of democracy
A democracy of mediocrity
A democracy of evil greed
A democracy of rotten seed
A people of careless leadership
A people of spineless followership
Nigeria,
A plastic face
A prideless deep
A shameless she
Of salvage leaders
Nigeria, my country
Drowning in the pool of its blood
Spilled by its children
Nigeria, my country,
Moving in a circle
A cycle of religion
A cycle of tribe
A cycle of corruption
A cycle of destruction
Nigeria, my people
A people that suffer
A people that thirst
A people that hunger
A people in a deep, dark and dangerous slumber
A people whose light grows dimmer
Whose hope grows slimmer
Till eyes rise from the slumber
And greed appreciates hunger
And true voices shout like thunder
And willed feet stump and say no longer! !
Nigeria,
A people that suffer
A people that hunger
A people in a dark, deep and dangerous slumber….

poem by Andrew Ahile
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In democracy

In democracy
Writ of the peole runs.
In democracy
Repesentatives should not
Called leaders.
In democracy
Representatives must not
Act as er whim.
In democracy
Representative should not
Show dictatorial style.
In democracy
Representative should not have
Arrogance of power.
In democracy
Treachery and
Ruthless decisions
Not good.
In democracy
The representatives
Should be sensitives
Towards sensitive issues.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Natures Democracy

Democracy is at America's heart
You lead while others follow
And your citizens bear the right to be free
With freedom comes responsibility
And democracy applies
To all who inhabit this earth?

Within this premise Kyoto speaks
That sound which disturbs
The majority of a wider democracy

You deny their global solution
In favour of the American way
But there are whispers in the wind
For nature too believes in democracy
And nature will make the agreement for you

For she is omnipotent to unleash her democracy
You can deny your future, but your ghosts will deny you
This way of life feeds a changing climate
And nature gathers her strength
Slowly rising to give you her answer

The Hurricane and tornado
The desert and the flood
Her democracy to maintain
A balance within the hemispheres

Your Freedom is a noble thing
For freedom lies in every beast.
But only humans carry the burden of democracy
This is the price we pay for freedom

But freedom is worthless
When all you grow is destroyed
When all you build is washed away
When all that you hold dear is taken without mercy

Look over the fence America
Look beyond your borders
Look at your planet
And look at this baby born
For it may never grow up to remember you

poem by Steven Cooke
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Ordinary People

In a dusty town a clock struck high noon, two men stood face to face.
One wore black and one wore white, but of fear there wasnt a trace.
Two hundred years later two hot rods drag through the very same place,
And a half a million people
Moved in to pick up the pace, a factory full of people.
Makin parts to go to outer space, a train load of people.
They were aimin for another place, out of town people.
Theres a man in the window with a big cigar, says everythings for sale.
The house and the boat and the railroad car, the owners gotta go to jail.
He acquired these things from a life of crime, now hes selling them to raise his bail.
He was rippin off the people.
Sellin guns to the underground, tryin to help the people.
Lose their ass for a piece of ground, rippin off the people.
Skimmin the top when there was no one around, tryin to help the people.
He was dealing antiques in a hardware store but he sure had a lot to hide.
He had a backroom full of the guns of war and a ton of ammunition besides.
Well, he walked with a cane, kept a bolt on the door with five pit bulls inside,
Just a warning to the people
Who might try to break in at night, protection from the people.
Selling safety in the darkest night, tryin to help the people.
Get the drugs to the street all right, ordinary people.
Well, its hard to say where a man goes wrong, might be here and it might be there.
What starts out weak might get too strong, if you cant tell foul from fair.
But its hard to judge from an angry throng of hands stretched into the air,
The vigilante people.
Takin law into their own hands, conscientious people.
Crackin down on the druglords land, government people.
Confiscatin all the dealers land, patch-of-ground people.
Down at the factory, theyre puttin new windows in.
The vandals made a mess of things, and the homeless just walked right in.
Well, they worked here once, and they live here now, but they might work here again,
Theyre ordinary people.
And theyre livin in a nightmare, hard workin people.
And they dont know how they go there, ordinary people.
And they think that you dont care, hard workin people.
Down on the assembly line, they keep puttin the same thing out.
But the people today, they just aint buyin, nobody can figure it out.
Well, they try like hell to build a quality end, theyre workin hard without a doubt,
Theyre ordinary people.
And the dollars what its all about, hard workin people.
But the customers are walkin out, lee iacocca people.
Yeah, they look but they just dont buy, hard workin people.
Two out of work models and a fashion slave try to dance away the michelob night.
The bartender poured himself another drink, while two drunks sat watchin the fight.
The champ went down, then he got up again, and then he went out like a light,
He was fightin for the people.
But his timing wasnt right, for las vegas people
Who came to see a las vegas fight, high rollin people.
Takin limos though the neon night, fightin for the people.
And then a new rolls royce and a company car they went flyin down the street.

[...] Read more

song performed by Neil Young
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,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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People Power. A rant.

The people’s voice so long suppressed.
Has now been forcibly expressed
Egyptians want democracy.
The world is waiting now to see
if their demands meet with success.

The winds of change are blowing free.
So tyrants sleep uneasily
They fear to hear the people’s voice
but really they have little choice.
If people choose democracy.

They can no longer rule by force.
Its time to take a different course.
The people have the power to
discard the old bring in the new.
By just resisting passively.

I have no doubt that some will die
As the dictators vainly try.
To cling to power at any cost
a battle that’s already lost.
The people will sweep them away.

The western world must wait and
see what happens next uneasily.
We have no right to interfere
although we have good cause to fear.
The power games that people play.

The world is changing rapidly.
Because of new technology.
Information is exchanged,
the internet has rearranged.
What people are allowed to say.

They have the opportunity
to state their views quite openly
For and against the government.
Although it seems that discontent
is the major force in play..

The peoples will is paramount
They will demand a close account.
From those they give authority
to take control and over see.
the changes that they need today..

Perhaps we too need to review.
A process which is over due

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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Some People

Some people seem to have it all
Some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused
Some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people pray before they kill
Some people kill just for the thrill
Some people follow one mans vision, some others die on television
Some people build their homes on sand, some people live in garbage cans
Some people think that live is dear, some people hope the end is near
Some people fight for right to life, some people hate to stay alive
Some people dream of life on mars, some people end their life in cars
Some people throw their lives away, some others go on holidays
Some people live and love in vain, some people dont and go insane
Some people always need to win, some other people love to sin
Some people breaking all their vows, some people slashing sacred cows
Some people like to worship stars, some people think the worlds a farce
Some people try to make ends meet, some others end up kissing feet
Some people find their holy grail, some other people go to hell
Some people never catch their breath, some people drink themselves to death
Some people seem to have it all, some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused, some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people
!
Gold/ocean/1994

song performed by Alphaville
Added by Lucian Velea
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