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Gilbert: Society often forgives the criminal; it never forgives the dreamer.

line from The Critic as Artist by Oscar Wilde (1891)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Gilbert

I. THE GARDEN.

Above the city hung the moon,
Right o'er a plot of ground
Where flowers and orchard-trees were fenced
With lofty walls around:
'Twas Gilbert's garden­there, to-night
Awhile he walked alone;
And, tired with sedentary toil,
Mused where the moonlight shone.

This garden, in a city-heart,
Lay still as houseless wild,
Though many-windowed mansion fronts
Were round it closely piled;
But thick their walls, and those within
Lived lives by noise unstirred;
Like wafting of an angel's wing,
Time's flight by them was heard.

Some soft piano-notes alone
Were sweet as faintly given,
Where ladies, doubtless, cheered the hearth
With song, that winter-even.
The city's many-mingled sounds
Rose like the hum of ocean;
They rather lulled the heart than roused
Its pulse to faster motion.

Gilbert has paced the single walk
An hour, yet is not weary;
And, though it be a winter night,
He feels nor cold nor dreary.
The prime of life is in his veins,
And sends his blood fast flowing,
And Fancy's fervour warms the thoughts
Now in his bosom glowing.

Those thoughts recur to early love,
Or what he love would name,
Though haply Gilbert's secret deeds
Might other title claim.
Such theme not oft his mind absorbs,
He to the world clings fast,
And too much for the present lives,
To linger o'er the past.

But now the evening's deep repose
Has glided to his soul;
That moonlight falls on Memory,

[...] Read more

poem by Charlotte Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dream On

(bayer sager / golde / mayoff)
I surround myself with superficial things
Somethin to toy with
They dont mean a thing
I got my share of secrets
A long time overdue
I got a world inside me
Id better keep on running to
I dream on
I dream on
A fantasy to guide me
And hope to see me through
I dream on
I dream on
Do you wanna be a dreamer?
Be a dreamer
If you wanna be a dreamer
Be a dreamer
Come on, baby, be a dreamer, be a dreamer, oh, oh
Now, my friends all say Im crazy
And Im blowing every chance
til until I hear your sweet, sweet music
Nothins gonna make me dance
cause Im a dreamer and my eyes give me away
Oh, theyre always sayin
All the things Id never say
I dream on
I dream on
A fantasy to guide me
And hope to see me through
I dream on
I dream on
Do you wanna be a dreamer?
Be a dreamer
If you wanna be a dreamer
(be a dreamer)
Come on, baby, be a dreamer, be a dreamer, oh
Do you wanna be a dreamer?
(be a dreamer)
If you wanna be a dreamer
(be a dreamer)
Come on, baby, be a dreamer, (be a dreamer), oh, oh
I believe in magic
And in wishes coming true
Somethin tells me, baby
That you believe it, too
I dream on
I dream on
A fantasy to guide me
And hope to see me through

[...] Read more

song performed by Dusty Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Annie Protheroe. A Legend of Stratford-le-Bow

OH! listen to the tale of little ANNIE PROTHEROE.
She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood of BOW;
She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day -
A gentle executioner whose name was GILBERT CLAY.

I think I hear you say, "A dreadful subject for your rhymes!"
O reader, do not shrink - he didn't live in modern times!
He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance)
That all his actions glitter with the lime-light of Romance.

In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft all day -
"No doubt you mean his Cal-craft," you amusingly will say -
But, no - he didn't operate with common bits of string,
He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing.

And when his work was over, they would ramble o'er the lea,
And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree,
And ANNIE'S simple prattle entertained him on his walk,
For public executions formed the subject of her talk.

And sometimes he'd explain to her, which charmed her very much,
How famous operators vary very much in touch,
And then, perhaps, he'd show how he himself performed the trick,
And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick.

Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and look
At his favourable notices, all pasted in a book,
And then her cheek would flush - her swimming eyes would dance with
joy
In a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy.

One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentle GILBERT said
(As he helped his pretty ANNIE to a slice of collared head),
"This reminds me I must settle on the next ensuing day
The hash of that unmitigated villain PETER GRAY."

He saw his ANNIE tremble and he saw his ANNIE start,
Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart;
Young GILBERT'S manly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear,
And he said, "O gentle ANNIE, what's the meaning of this here?"

And ANNIE answered, blushing in an interesting way,
"You think, no doubt, I'm sighing for that felon PETER GRAY:
That I was his young woman is unquestionably true,
But not since I began a-keeping company with you."

Then GILBERT, who was irritable, rose and loudly swore
He'd know the reason why if she refused to tell him more;
And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes)
"You mustn't ask no questions, and you won't be told no lies!

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Sicilian's Tale; The Monk of Casal-Maggiore

Once on a time, some centuries ago,
In the hot sunshine two Franciscan friars
Wended their weary way, with footsteps slow
Back to their convent, whose white walls and spires
Gleamed on the hillside like a patch of snow;
Covered with dust they were, and torn by briers,
And bore like sumpter-mules upon their backs
The badge of poverty, their beggar's sacks.

The first was Brother Anthony, a spare
And silent man, with pallid cheeks and thin,
Much given to vigils, penance, fasting, prayer,
Solemn and gray, and worn with discipline,
As if his body but white ashes were,
Heaped on the living coals that glowed within;
A simple monk, like many of his day,
Whose instinct was to listen and obey.

A different man was Brother Timothy,
Of larger mould and of a coarser paste;
A rubicund and stalwart monk was he,
Broad in the shoulders, broader in the waist,
Who often filled the dull refectory
With noise by which the convent was disgraced,
But to the mass-book gave but little heed,
By reason he had never learned to read.

Now, as they passed the outskirts of a wood,
They saw, with mingled pleasure and surprise,
Fast tethered to a tree an ass, that stood
Lazily winking his large, limpid eyes.
The farmer Gilbert of that neighborhood
His owner was, who, looking for supplies
Of fagots, deeper in the wood had strayed,
Leaving his beast to ponder in the shade.

As soon as Brother Timothy espied
The patient animal, he said: 'Good-lack!
Thus for our needs doth Providence provide;
We'll lay our wallets on the creature's back.'
This being done, he leisurely untied
From head and neck the halter of the jack,
And put it round his own, and to the tree
Stood tethered fast as if the ass were he.

And, bursting forth into a merry laugh,
He cried to Brother Anthony: 'Away!
And drive the ass before you with your staff;
And when you reach the convent you may say
You left me at a farm, half tired and half

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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John Gilbert (Bushranger)

John Gilbert was a bushranger of terrible renown,
For sticking lots of people up and shooting others down.
John Gilbert said unto his pals, "Although they make a bobbery
About our tricks we have never done a tip-top thing in robbery.

"We have all of us a fancy for experiments in pillage,
Yet never have we seized a town, or even sacked a village."
John Gilbert said unto his mates—"Though partners we have been
In all rascality, yet we no festal day have seen."

John Gilbert said he thought he saw no obstacle to hinder a
Piratical descent upon the town of Canowindra.
So into Canowindra town rode Gilbert and his men,
And all the Canowindra folk subsided there and then.

The Canowindra populace cried, "Here's a lot of strangers!!!"
But immediately recovered when they found they were bushrangers.
And Johnny Gilbert said to them, "You need not be afraid.
We are only old companions whom bushrangers you have made."

And Johnny Gilbert said, said he, "We'll never hurt a hair
Of men who bravely recognise that we are just all there."
The New South Welshmen said at once, not making any fuss,
That Johnny Gilbert, after all, was "Just but one of us."

So Johnny Gilbert took the town (including public houses),
And treated all the "cockatoos" and shouted for their spouses.
And Miss O'Flanagan performed in manner quite gintailly
Upon the grand planner for the bushranger O'Meally.

And every stranger passing by they took, and when they got him
They robbed him of his money and occasionally shot him.
And Johnny's enigmatic feat admits of this solution,
That bushranging in New South Wales is a favoured institution.

So Johnny Gilbert ne'er allows an anxious thought to fetch him,
For well he knows the Government don't really want to ketch him.
And if such practices should be to New South Welshmen dear,
With not the least demurring word ought we to interfere.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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T-1000

The Machine is now alive!
To wreck Havok in your lives!
There's no use to hold me back!
I'm ready to attack!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
The Machine is now alive!
To wreck Havok in your lives!
There's no use to hold me back!
I'm ready to attack!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
The Machine is now alive!
To wreck Havok in your lives!
There's no use to hold me back!
I'm ready to attack!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
The Machine is now alive!
To wreck Havok in your lives!
There's no use to hold me back!
I'm ready to attack!
(together)
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!
I am a criminal!

song performed by Fear Factory
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad of Ben Hall's Gang

Come all ye wild colonials And listen to my tale;
A story of bushrangers' deeds I will to you unveil.
'Tis of those gallant heroes, Game fighters one and all;
And we'll sit and sing, Long Live the King,
Dunn,Gilbert, and Ben Hall.

Ben Hall he was a squatter bloke Who owned a thousand head;
A peaceful man he was until Arrested by Sir Fred.
His home burned down, his wife cleared out,
His cattle perished all;
"They'll not take me a second time,'
Says valiant Ben Hall.

John Gilbert was a flash cove, And John O'Meally too;
With Ben and Bourke and Johnny Vane
They all were comrades true.
They rode into Canowindra And gave a public ball.
'Roll up, roll up, and have a spree,'
Says Gilbert and Ben Hall.

They took possession of the town, Including the public-houses,
And treated all the cockatoos And shouted for their spouses.
They danced with all the pretty girls And held a carnival.
'We don't hurt them who don't hurt us,'
Says Gilbert and Ben Hall.

They made a raid on Bathurst, The pace was getting hot;
But Johnny Vane surrendered After Micky Burke was shot,
O'Meally at Goimbla Did like a hero fall;
'The game is getting lively,'
Says John Gilbert and Ben Hall.

Then Gilbert took a holiday, Ben Hall got new recruits;
The Old Man and Dunleavy Shared in the plunder's fruits.
Dunleavy he surrendered And they jagged the Old Man tall -
So Johnny Gilbert came again
To help his mate Ben Hall.

John Dunn he was a jockey bloke, A-riding all the winners,
Until he joined Hall's gang to rob The publicans and sinners;
And many a time the Royal Mail Bailed up at John Dunn's call.
A thousand pounds is on their heads -
Dunn, Gilbert, and Ben Hall.

'Next week we'll visit Goulburn And clean the banks out there;
So if you see the troopers, Just tell them to beware;
Some day to Sydney city We mean to pay a call,
And we'll take the whole damn country,'
Says Dunn, Gilbert, and Ben Hall.

poem by Anonymous Oceania
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A Map Of Culture

Culture

Contents

What is Culture?

The Importance of Culture

Culture Varies

Culture is Critical

The Sociobiology Debate

Values, Norms, and Social Control

Signs and Symbols

Language

Terms and Definitions

Approaches to the Study of Culture

Are We Prisoners of Our Culture?

What is Culture?

I prefer the definition used by Ian Robertson: 'all the shared products of society: material and nonmaterial' (Our text defines it in somewhat more ponderous terms- 'The totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior. It includes ideas, values, and customs (as well as the sailboats, comic books, and birth control devices) of groups of people' (p.32) .

Back to Contents

[...] Read more

poem by Nyein Way
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In the Stable

What! you don't like him; well, maybe -- we all have our fancies, of course:
Brumby to look at, you reckon? Well, no; he's a thoroughbred horse;
Sired by a son of old Panic -- look at his ears and his head --
Lop-eared and Roman-nosed, ain't he? -- well, that's how the Panics are bred.
Gluttonous, ugly and lazy, rough as a tipcart to ride,
Yet if you offered a sovereign apiece for the hairs on his hide
That wouldn't buy him, nor twice that; while I've a pound to the good,
This here old stager stays by me and lives like a thoroughbred should;
Hunt him away from his bedding, and sit yourself down by the wall,
Till you hear how the old fellow saved me from Gilbert, O'Meally and Hall.
*

Gilbert and Hall and O'Meally, back in the bushranging days,
Made themselves kings of the district -- ruled it in old-fashioned ways --
Robbing the coach and the escort, stealing our horses at night,
Calling sometimes at the homesteads and giving the women a fright:
Came to the station one morning (and why they did this no one knows)
Took a brood mare from the paddock--wanting some fun, I suppose --
Fastened a bucket beneath her, hung by a strap around her flank,
Then turned her loose in the timber back of the seven-mile tank.

Go? She went mad! She went tearing and screaming with fear through the trees,
While the curst bucket beneath her was banging her flanks and her knees.
Bucking and racing and screaming she ran to the back of the run,
Killed herself there in a gully; by God, but they paid for their fun!
Paid for it dear, for the black-boys found tracks, and the bucket, and all,
And I swore that I'd live to get even with Gilbert, O'Meally and Hall.

Day after day then I chased them -- 'course they had friends on the sly,
Friends who were willing to sell them to those who were willing to buy.
Early one morning we found them in camp at the Cockatoo Farm;
One of us shot at O'Meally and wounded him under the arm:
Ran them for miles in the ranges, till Hall, with his horse fairly beat,
Took to the rocks and we lost him -- the others made good their retreat.
It was war to the knife then, I tell you, and once, on the door of my shed,
They nailed up a notice that offered a hundred reward for my head!
Then we heard they were gone from the district; they stuck up a coach in the West,
And I rode by myself in the paddocks, just taking a bit of a rest,
Riding this colt as a youngster -- awkward, half-broken and shy,
He wheeled round one day on a sudden; I looked, but I couldn't see why --
But I soon found out why, for before me the hillside rose up like a wall,
And there on the top with their rifles were Gilbert, O'Meally and Hall!

'Twas a good three-mile run to the homestead -- bad going, with plenty of trees --
So I gathered the youngster together, and gripped at his ribs with my knees.
'Twas a mighty poor chance to escape them! It puts a man's nerve to the test
On a half-broken colt to be hunted by the best mounted men in the West.
But the half-broken colt was a racehorse! He lay down to work with a will.
Flashed through the scrub like a clean-skin-by heavens, we flew down the hill!
Over a twenty-foot gully he swept with the spring of a deer,

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Criminal World

You never told me of your other faces
You were the widow of a wild cat
And now I know about your special kisses
And I know you know where thats at
I guess I recognise your destination
I think I see beneath your make-up
What you want is so separation
This is no ordinary
This is no ordinary
(oh, oh, oh)
What a criminal world
The boys are like baby-faced girls
What a criminal girl
Shell show you where to shoot your gun
What a typical mothers son
The only thing that she enjoys
Is a criminal world
Where the girls are like baby-faced boys
Youve got a very heavy reputation
But no-one knows about your low-life
I know a way to find a situation
And hold a candle to your high-life disguise
You caught me kneeling at your sisters door
That was no ordinary stick-up
Im well aware just what youre looking for
I am no ordinary
I am no ordinary
(oh, oh, oh)
What a criminal world
The boys are like baby-faced boys
What a criminal girl
Shell show you where to shoot your gun
What a typical mothers son
The only thing that she enjoys
Is a criminal world
Where the girls are like baby-faced boys
Baby-faced boys
Baby-face
What a criminal world
What a criminal
Criminal
What a criminal world
What a criminal
Criminal

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Criminal Kind

You got a criminal mind, you got criminal looks
Boy you better look out, youre gonna get hooked
Dont you ever feel guilty when you come up short
Man you better be careful, youre gonna get caught
cause youre the criminal kind, youre the criminal kind
Man what you gonna do? where you gonna hide?
Theyre callin you a sickness, disease of the mind
Man what you go nna do? youre the criminal kind
Dont you ever get tired? dont you ever wanna quit?
Yeah its been a long time, and you still dont fit
Dog tags on the mirror, hangin down from a chain
Give up little sister, this aint gonna change
cause youre the criminal kind, youre the criminal kind
Man what you gonna do? where you gonna hide?
Theyre callin you a sickness, disease of the mind
Man what you gonna do? youre the criminal kind
Yeah, and that little girl you used to know
Just dont come around no more
Now she aint there to watch the door
She dont wanna die in no liquor store
I hope they all made money, I hope they all get rich
Yeah, I hope they give hell, to every son of a bitc h
That put a man on the carpet
Or struck him out on the line
Whoever let him get a taste of the criminal life
cause youre the criminal kind, youre the criminal kind
Man what you gonna do? where you gonna hide?
Theyre calli n you a sickness, disease of the mind
Man what you gonna do? youre the criminal kind

song performed by Tom Petty
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dreamer

Dreamer, you know you are a dreamer
Well can you put your hands in your head, oh no!
I said dreamer, youre nothing but a dreamer
Well can you put your hands in your head, oh no!
I said far out, - what a day, a year, a laugh it is!
You know, - well you know you had it comin to you,
Now theres not a lot I can do
Dreamer, you stupid little dreamer;
So now you put your head in your hands, oh no!
I said far out, - what a day, a year, a laugh it is!
You know, - well you know you had it comin to you,
Now theres not a lot I can do.
Well work it out someday
If I could see something
You can see anything you want boy
If I could be someone-
You can be anyone, celebrate boy.
If I could do something-
Well you can do something,
If I could do anything-
Well can you do something out of this world?
Take a dream on a sunday
Take a life, take a holiday
Take a lie, take a dreamer
Dream, dream, dream, dream, dream along...
Dreamer, you know you are a dreamer
Well can you put your hands in your head, oh no!
I said dreamer, youre nothing but a dreamer
Well can you put your hands in your head, oh no!
Oh no!

song performed by Supertramp
Added by Lucian Velea
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How Gilbert Died

There's never a stone at the sleeper's head,
There's never a fence beside,
And the wandering stock on the grave may tread
Unnoticed and undenied;
But the smallest child on the Watershed
Can tell you how Gilbert died.
For he rode at dusk with his comrade Dunn
To the hut at the Stockman's Ford;
In the waning light of the sinking sun
They peered with a fierce accord.
They were outlaws both -- and on each man's head
Was a thousand pounds reward.

They had taken toll of the country round,
And the troopers came behind
With a black who tracked like a human hound
In the scrub and the ranges blind:
He could run the trail where a white man's eye
No sign of track could find.

He had hunted them out of the One Tree Hill
And over the Old Man Plain,
But they wheeled their tracks with a wild beast's skill,
And they made for the range again;
Then away to the hut where their grandsire dwelt
They rode with a loosened rein.

And their grandsire gave them a greeting bold:
"Come in and rest in peace,
No safer place does the country hold --
With the night pursuit must cease,
And we'll drink success to the roving boys,
And to hell with the black police."

But they went to death when they entered there
In the hut at the Stockman's Ford,
For their grandsire's words were as false as fair --
They were doomed to the hangman's cord.
He had sold them both to the black police
For the sake of the big reward.

In the depth of night there are forms that glide
As stealthily as serpents creep,
And around the hut where the outlaws hide
They plant in the shadows deep,
And they wait till the first faint flush of dawn
Shall waken their prey from sleep.

But Gilbert wakes while the night is dark --
A restless sleeper aye.

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Dreamer

Ive got a dollar deal hidden
Down in my shoe
So listen friends
I tell you what Im gonna do
Im gonna run up
The road of mystery
Hangin by a thread to a fantasy
A background black
Showing my face
Buried in the image
Of an empty space
Im back on my feet
Getting no sleep
Makin it all mine
Give me a chance
To follow the bands
Waitin for the sunshine
Husslin my will
In a bar downtown
And f it dont work out now
ll keep movin around and around ...
Tll Im back on my feet
Getting no sleep
Makin it all mine
Give me a chance
To follow the bands
Im waitin for the sunshine, yeah
A dreamer, a dreamer
Hangin around
A dreamer, a dreamer
Trying to hitch a ride
A dreamer, a dreamer
Hangin around
A dreamer, a dreamer
When I turn my back
Youre by my side
Well I fought my way
Through the back-stage door
Staring at my goal
Till my eyes get sore
And working my way
Through the little I say
Caring no less just
The light of the day
A background black
Showing my face
Buried in the image
Of an empty space
Im back on my feet
Getting no sleep

[...] Read more

song performed by Uriah Heep
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pistol

Blue boy go get your gun
Hands together we can have some fun
Out tonight and the beat goes on
Blue boy go get your gun
Hands together we can have some fun
Out tonight and the beat goes on
We dont need no intervention
Keep your cover on information
We got boys down at the station
Take the floor, break the law
Call it crime prevention
Got a grip on the population
Know your name and number, darling (darling)
Blue boy go get your gun
Hands together we can have some fun
Out tonight and the beat goes on
What a criminal situation
Blue boy go get your gun
Hands together we can have some fun
Out tonight and the beat goes on
What a criminal situation
You need co-operation
Gotta pay for your own protection
And the states too scared to mention
Take the floor, break the law
Gonna cut out all emotion
Lets shake up this commotion
Shake now like a soldier, darling (darling)
Blue boy go get your gun
Hands together we can have some fun
Out tonight and the beat goes on
What a criminal situation
Blue boy go get your gun
Hands together we can have some fun
Out tonight and the beat goes on
What a criminal situation
(aint no language of love)
Blue boy go get your gun
Hands together we can have some fun
Out tonight and the beat goes on
What a criminal situation
We dont need no intervention
Keep your cover on information
We got boys down at the station
Take the floor, break the law
Call it crime prevention
Got a grip on the population
Know your name and number, darling (darling)
Blue boy go get your gun
Hands together we can have some fun (aint no language of love)

[...] Read more

song performed by Erasure
Added by Lucian Velea
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Low Society

A judge a dentist or physician
In this low society
Trade ambition for position
In this low society
Have you heard its in the stars
Next july we collide with mars
Have you heard it in the bars
In this low society
No more pay and lots of leisure
In this low society
Low society
Im just doing what I can
In this low society
But Im an incidental man
In this low society
I give away what others sell
The secrets yours so never tell
cos if you do youll go to hell
Low society
Side by side and always tired
All for one and no-one hired
All thats left is love inspired
Low society
And when the party is complete
And youre still standing on your feet
The taste of victory is sweet
Low society
And darling dont forget
In this low society
To turn off your t.v. set
In this low society
The most important thing at all
In this low society
Is not to stand too tall
In this low society
In this world that never learns
I can see rome as it burns
All the passion and the power
Turns to ash within an hour
No more play and no more pleasure
In this low society

song performed by Heaven 17
Added by Lucian Velea
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H-K (Hunter-Killer)

The conscious man is dead
And I buried him
Beneath this scarred tissue
Armored skeleton
The machine is now alive
Desensitized with open eyes
Powered by an angry mind
And is refueled by those I despise

I've become what the detest
A delinquent survivalist
Without fear and no regrets
They fu*king say

I am a criminal
I am a criminal
I am a criminal
I am a criminal

I must steal to survive
I must kill to moralize
Leaving people victimized
Fuels my angst inside

I'm your judge
And your jury
You don't get an attorney
With my verdict of guilty
An execution in fury

The machine is now alive
To wreak havoc in your lives
There's no use to hold me back
I am ready to attack

Repeat second verse

I am a criminal
I am a criminal
I am a criminal
I am a criminal

song performed by Fear Factory from Demanufacture
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Reoccuring Dream

Words and music by joni mitchell
This is the reoccurring dream
Born in the dreary gap between
What we have now
And what we wish we could have
More fulfilling--and less frustrating!
Out of the envy in our eyes
Look!
Glamorous picture people rise
Radiant!
Gleaming down from screens and pages
Ooh--glamour--before your very eyes!
Isnt it true--isnt it true?
Good question--i know--who cares
Look here they tell you
If you had this
If you had that
Latest styles and colors
If we had that for us mmmmm
Wouldnt it be fabulous
If you had that house, car, bottle, jar
Your lovers would look like movie stars
Movie stars, movie stars, movie stars
Order your youth secrets of the stars
Call now--just $9.99
Our discontent is their delight
They offer relief for the purchase price
Love in a bottle
Love on four wheels
Is that our new car charles?
Isnt it true--isnt it true?
We guarantee it--pick up your phone and dial
See here they sell you
If you had this
If you had that
I want a new truck!--more power!
If you use this shampoo
True love will come to you
If you had that house, car, bottle, jar
Your lovers would look like movie stars
Movie stars, movie stars, movie stars
Hollywoods greatest legends
Recognize this?
Dreamer
Soft sexy hair
Dream on
Hes going to love me in this ruby, ruby lipstick
Others will notice!--sexy!--who cares!
Recognize this?
Dreamer

[...] Read more

song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Dreamer

Stephen foster
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lulld by the moonlight have all passd away!
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of lifes busy throng
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
Een as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Little Dreamer

They may talk about you cold when you were
Headed for the skies
But you were young and bold and baby didnt that
Change with a wink of your eye
Now no ones talkin bout those
Crazy days gone by
No one talks about the
Times you cried
(oooh) little dreamer
(oooh) uh, little dreamer
And then they voted you
Least likely to succeed
I hadda tell them baby, you were armed with
All youd need
Seems no ones talkin bout those
Crazy days gone past
Werent they amazed when you were
Really last
(oooh) you are the little dreamer
(oooh) you were the little dreamer, yeah, yeah
Yeah they talk about you cold when you were
Headed for the skies
But you were young and bold and baby didnt that
Change with a wink of your eye
Seems no ones talkin bout the
Crazy days gone past
Werent they amazed when you were
Really last
(oooh) you are the little dreamer
(oooh) little dreamer, oh yeah, oh
(oooh) little dreamer
(oooh) little dreamer

song performed by Van Halen
Added by Lucian Velea
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