AKA Earworm Central. "Keptin! They put creaturesin our bodies!"--Chekov
If you're gonna have a folder about beer, you gotta have some tunes.
My life flows on in endless song
above earth's lamentation.
I hear the real, through far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the
strife I hear that music ringing.
It sounds an echo in my soul, how
can I keep from singing?
hey, me too! 'cept the bike part.
Day after day
I will walk and I will play
But the day after today
I will stop
And I will start my way
Why can’t I get just one kiss
Why can’t I get just one kiss
Believe me there’d be somethings that I wouldn’t miss
But I look at your pants and I need I need a kiss
Why can’t I get just one screw
Why can’t I get just one screw
Believe me I know what to do
But something won’t let me make love to you
Why can’t I get just one fuck
Why can’t I get just one fuck
I guess it’s something to do with luck
But I waited my whole life for just one
Day afterday
I get angry
And I will say
That the day
Is in my sight
When I’ll take a bow
And say goodnight
That's a great disc.
And now I understand your puzzling post in Healthy thread, dude. :)
Hee.
But Sparky, love. Yanni is just Out.
Yanni would certainly get your heartrate down.
He searched for those wings that he knew
That this angel should have at her back
And although he can’t find them
He really don’t mind
Because he knows they’ll grow back
And he reached for that halo that he knows
That she had when she first caught his eye
Although his hand came back empty
He’s really not worried
’cause he knows it still shines
I can’t promise that I’ll grow those wings
Or keep this tarnished halo shined
But I’ll never betray your trust
Angel mine
I search all the time on the ground
For our shadows cast side by side
Just to remind me that I haven’t gone crazy
That you exist and are mine
And I know that your skin is as warm and as real
As that smile in your eyes
But I have to keep touching and smelling
And tasting for fear it’s all lies
I can’t promise that I’ll grow those wings
Or keep this tarnished halo shined
But I’ll never betray your trust
Angel mine
Last night I awoke from the deepest of sleeps
With your voice in my head
And I could tell by your breathing
That you were still sleeping
I repeated those words that you had said
I can’t promise that I’ll grow those wings
Or keep this tarnished halo shined
But I’ll never betray your trust
Angel mine
I love Margo Timmins' voice.
Er, yeah - I was trying for sorta' awful stuff amie. Yanni's been right out there for a while.
Yanni could send me on a tri-state killing spree, and that wouldn't help my heartrate any.
The stuff they play at the Y is just terrible tho. Thank the gods I finally got the mp3 player.
Where are you going
With your long face pulling down, don’t hide away
Like an ocean that you can’t see but you can smell
And the sound of the waves crash down
I am no superman
I have no reasons for you
And I am no hero, oh, that’s for sure
But I do know one thing
Where you are is where I belong
I do know where you go
Is where I want to be
Where are you going?
Where do you go?
Are you looking for answers to questions under the stars?
If along the way
You are grown weary you can rest with me until
A brighter day and you’re ok
I am no superman
I have no answers for you
I am no hero, oh that’s for sure
But I do know one thing
Where you are is where I belong
I do know where you go is where I want to be
Where are you going?
Where do you go?
Where do you go?
Where are you going?
Where do you go?
I am no superman, I have no answers for you
I am no hero, oh, that’s for sure
But I do know one thing
Where you are is where I belong
I do know where you go
Is where I want to be.
Where are you going?
Where do you go?
Where are you going?
Where?
Let’s go.
N likes Yanni. And that's all I have to say about that.
Say, my love, I came to you with best intentions
You laid down and gave to me just what I'm seeking
Love, you drive me to distraction
Hey my love do you believe
that we might last a thousand years
Or more if not for this,
Our flesh and blood
It ties you and me right up
Tie me down
Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain
We climb on two by two
To be sure these days continue
Things we cannot change
Hey, my love, you came to me
like wine comes to this mouth
Grown tired of water all the time
You quench my heart and
oh you quench my mind
Celebrate we will
'Cause life is short but
Sweet for certain
We climb on two by two
To be sure these days continue
Things we cannot
Celebrate you and me
Climb two by two, to be sure
These days continue
Things we cannot change
Oh, my love I came to you
With best intentions
You laid down and gave to me
Just what I'm seeking
Celebrate we will
'Cause life is short
But sweet for certain hey
We climb two by two
To be sure these days continue
Things we cannot change...
Things we cannot change.
A CASE OF YOU
Just before our love got lost you said,
"I am as constant as a northern star."
And I said, "Constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar."
On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
With your face sketched on it twice
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you, darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh I would still be on my feet
Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
I remember that time you told me, you said,
"Love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
'Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you, darling
Still, I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet
I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said,
"Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed"
Oh but you are in my blood
You're my holy wine
You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet
(Currently, being covered by the fado ace Christina Branco -- what a pure, graceful voice.)
(Interesting, masterfully written tune, this. In the context of Blue, its thrust is quite mollified -- Joni does a lot of defiant and free-spirit moves throughout the album -- but on its own, "A Case of You" is among the most dangerous "he hit me and it felt like a kiss" numbers. Because it's so obviously delivered by a smart, potent person. Because she lays out the seductions of those with brute, brute hearts so vividly. Because it makes taking abuse seem like strength. Because it so resonates with some other lines from the same LP: "Well everybody's saying/That hell's the hippest way to go/Well I don't think so/But I'm gonna take a look around it though." And who is so timid not to have felt that urge?)
I must confess, I haven't listened to much Joni Mitchell.
There are other, metaphorical ways to bleed. I guess just from the lyrics I can't see where it obviously means abuse - although it could be interpreted that way. I'm thinking it's more along the lines of be prepared to be hurt, to feel emotional pain - but maybe I'm just that much of a pacifist. ;)
In any case, it's beautiful - and I must admit I'm woefully behind on my Joni listening too. She's on the list.
>. I'm thinking it's more along the lines of be prepared to be hurt, to feel emotional pain - but maybe I'm just that much of a pacifist. ;)
That's the way I've always interpreted it. Oddly enough, I just listened to that song on my way home from work. It's one of my favorites of hers. I think Blueis an essential. It would definitely be on my top ten/desert island list.
Well, with that recommendation, it moves up on my list. Thanks, Terry.
I've added it to my music list as well. Of course with my list at yourmusic.com, that means it should be delivered roughly around October 2011. ;)
Another favorite Joni Mitchell song from Blue.
Sitting in a park in Paris, France
Reading the news and it sure looks bad
They won't give peace a chance
That was just a dream some of us had
Still a lot of lands to see
But I wouldn't want to stay here
It's too old and cold and settled in its ways here
Oh, but California
California I'm coming home
I'm going to see the folks I dig
I'll even kiss a Sunset pig
California I'm coming home
I met a redneck on a Grecian isle
Who did the goat dance very well
He gave me back my smile
But he kept my camera to sell
Oh the rogue, the red red rogue
He cooked good omelettes and stews
And I might have stayed on with him there
But my heart cried out for you, California
Oh California I'm coming home
Oh make me feel good rock'n roll band
I'm your biggest fan
California, I'm coming home
CHORUS:
Oh it gets so lonely
When you're walking
And the streets are full of strangers
All the news of home you read
Just gives you the blues
Just gives you the blues
So I bought me a ticket
I caught a plane to Spain
Went to a party down a red dirt road
There were lots of pretty people there
Reading Rolling Stone, reading Vogue
They said, "How long can you hang around?"
I said "a week, maybe two,
Just until my skin turns brown
Then I'm going home to California"
California I'm coming home
Oh will you take me as I am
Strung out on another man
California I'm coming home
CHORUS:
Oh it gets so lonely
When you're walking
And the streets are full of strangers
All the news of home you read
More about the war
And the bloody changes
Oh will you take me as l am?
Will you take me as l am?
Will you?
life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone
I hear you call my name
and it feels like home
when you call my name it’s like a little prayer
I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there
in the midnight hour I can feel your power
just like a prayer you know I’ll take you there
I hear your voice, it’s like an angel sighing
I have no choice, I hear your voice
feels like flying
I close my eyes, oh god I think I’m falling
out of the sky, I close my eyes
heaven help me
when you call my name it’s like a little prayer
I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there
in the midnight hour I can feel your power
just like a prayer you know I’ll take you there
like a child you whisper softly to me
you’re in control just like a child
now I’m dancing
it’s like a dream, no end and no beginning
you’re here with me, it’s like a dream
let the choir sing
when you call my name it’s like a little prayer
I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there
in the midnight hour I can feel your power
just like a prayer you know I’ll take you there
just like a prayer, your voice can take me there
just like a muse to me, you are a mystery
just like a dream, you are not what you seem
just like a prayer, no choice your voice can take me there
just like a prayer, I’ll take you there
it’s like a dream to me
Happy birthday Woody Guthrie!
1913 Massacre
by Woody Guthrie
Take a trip with me in nineteen thirteen
To Calumet, Michigan in the copper country
I'll take you to a place called Italian Hall
And the miners are having their big Christmas ball
I'll take you in a door and up a high stairs
Singing and dancing is heard ev'rywhere
I'll let you shake hands with the people you see
And watch the kids dance 'round the big Christmas tree.
There's talking and laughing and songs in the air
And the spirit of Christmas is there ev'rywhere
Before you know it you're friends with us all
And you're dancing around and around in the hall
You ask about work and you ask about pay
They'll tell you they make less than a dollar a day
Working their copper claims, risking their lives
So it's fun to spend Christmas with children and wives.
A little girl sits down by the Christmas tree lights
To play the piano so you gotta keep quiet
To hear all this fun; you would not realize
That the copper boss thug men are milling outside
The copper boss thugs stuck their heads in the door
One of them yelled and he screamed, "There's a fire"
A lady she hollered, "There's no such a thing;
Keep on with your party, there's no such a thing."
A few people rushed and there's only a few
"It's just the thugs and the scabs fooling you."
A man grabbed his daughter and he carried her down
But the thugs held the door and he could not get out.
And then others followed, about a hundred or more
But most everybody remained on the floor
The gun thugs, they laughed at their murderous joke
And the children were smothered on the stairs by the door.
Such a terrible sight I never did see
We carried our children back up to their tree
The scabs outside still laughed at their spree
And the children that died there was seventy-three
The piano played a slow funeral tune,
And the town was lit up by a cold Christmas moon
The parents, they cried and the men, they moaned,
"See what your greed for money has done?"
Heard this this morning on the Morning Show. Always makes me laugh - done by an Irish group this morning, might be The Dubliners.
Dear Sir I write this note to you to tell you of my plight
For at the time of writing I am not a pretty sight
My body is all black and blue, my face a deathly grey
And I write this note to say why Paddy's not at work today.
Whilst working on the fourteenth floor,some bricks I had to clear
To throw them down from such a height was not a good idea
The foreman wasn't very pleased, the bloody awkward sod
He said I had to cart them down the ladders in my hod.
Now clearing all these bricks by hand, it was so very slow
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below
But in my haste to do the job, I was too blind to see
That a barrel full of building bricks was heavier than me.
And so when I untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead
And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead
I shot up like a rocket till to my dismay I found
That half way up I met the bloody barrel coming down.
Well the barrel broke my shoulder, as to the ground it sped
And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with my head
I clung on tightly, numb with shock, from this almighty blow
And the barrel spilled out half the bricks, fourteen floors below.
Now when these bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor
I then outweighed the barrel and so started down once more
Still clinging tightly to the rope, my body racked with pain
When half way down, I met the bloody barrel once again.
The force of this collision, half way up the office block
Caused multiple abrasions and a nasty state of shock
Still clinging tightly to the rope I fell towards the ground
And I landed on the broken bricks the barrel scattered round.
I lay there groaning on the ground I thought I'd passed the worst
But the barrel hit the pulley wheel, and then the bottom burst
A shower of bricks rained down on me, I hadn't got a hope
As I lay there bleeding on the ground, I let go the bloody rope.
The barrel then being heavier then started down once more
And landed right across me as I lay upon the floor
It broke three ribs, and my left arm, and I can only say
That I hope you'll understand why Paddy's not at work today.
The song is sung to the tune of THE GARDEN WHERE THE PRATIES GROW.
"Many thanks to Pat Cooksey for permission to display the lyrics and background of this popular song.
© Pat Cooksey. All rights reserved.
Pat Cooksey on the History of this Song
It is generally assumed that I based this song on Gerard Hoffnung's wonderful address to THE OXFORD UNION in 1958. This is not correct -- the recitation in a more simple form dates back to the English Music Hall's of the 1920's and was printed in the Readers Digest in 1937 in the form of a story.
     The fine Scottish singer and songwriter Dick Gaughan details some of the above on his Homepage together with comments by Sam Hinton. The song is unique in as much as it appears under such a galaxy of titles but always the same song,and it's worldwide popularity, with over 100 recordings to date,is a wonder indeed to me when I think back to it's humble beginnings in The Dyer's Arms, in Coventry. I am naturally delighted that so many wonderful artist's have recorded and performed my song over the years and I am very proud that the song has given so much pleasure to so many people,long may it continue to do so.
Alternative Titles for this Song:
1. Paddy and the Barrel
2. Paddy and the Rope
3. Paddy and the Brick's
4. The Bricklayer's Song
5. Murphy and the Brick's
6. Brendan and the Brick's
7. The Excuse Note
8. Why Paddy's not at work Today
9. Dear Boss
10. The Barrel Song
11. The Sick Letter
12. Why Yassirs not at work Today
The above song under all alternative titles has always been and remains the sole copywright of the original writer, PAT COOKSEY. The song was composed and first performed by me in Coventry in 1969 and is registered with THE PERFORMING RIGHTS SOCIETY in London under it's original title THE SICK NOTE and all the above alternative titles. No other Artist or Writer had any part in the writing of this song nor may any claim be made for arrangement, the song under all the above titles is performed in it's original form, only the Title has been changed. "
The song is sung to the tune of THE GARDEN WHERE THE PRATIES GROW.
This is less than helpful.
Heh. Yeah. Unless yer Irish.
Only by marriage.
I'm not completely insane.
I'm maybe just a little bit crazy.
There's no one to blame,
Got no shame 'bout my game,
Don't want nobody to save me.
I've got a pair of ruby slippers that
I don't wear much anymore
And if I had the nerve,
I'd click my heels and return
To the wonderland I knew before.
I'm waiting on a slow boat to China,
Gonna sail away to the sun.
I've been searching for myself,
And I know I'm gonna find her
If I break away from everyone.
So, the way that I act may not fit in.
Just because I have a mind of my own,
Doesn't mean its a sin.
I don't ask you to give up;
Don't expect me to give in.
I'm not completely insane.
I'm maybe just a little bit crazy.
There's no one to blame
Got no shame 'bout my game
Don't want nobody to save me.
Some like to live for the moment,
Taking life into their hands every day.
And if they don't get killed,
They get so high off the thrill,
They could float to heaven anyway.
And others want to save for tomorrow,
Thinking money is security.
Well, I understand the need,
But I don't get the greed.
Y'know, they all seem pretty crazy to me.
You can tell by the expression I wear.
Though I seem a little strange to you
I don't really care. I've got the freedom to be;
There are others like me everywhere.
I'm not completely insane.
I'm maybe just a little bit crazy.
There's no one to blame
Got no shame 'bout my game
Don't want nobody to save me.
Nice. Who is it, Terry? I like it.
Ooh, I like her name too. (My wife is Alana) ;)
Thanks.
"Fuck The Creationists"
by MC Hawking -- the funniest, most-amazing-longshot comedy rap album in years and years. You have to imagine all of this done in Stephen Hawking's voice-emulator mode.
(Trash Talk)
Ah yeah, here we go again!
Damn! This is some funky shit that I be laying down on your ass.
This one goes out to all my homey's working in the field of
evolutionary science.
Check it!
(Verse 1)
Fuck the damn creationists, those bunch of dumb-ass bitches,
every time I think of them my trigger finger itches.
They want to have their bullshit, taught in public class,
Stephen J. Gould should put his foot right up their ass.
Noah and his ark, Adam and his Eve,
straight up fairy stories even children don't believe.
I'm not saying there's no god, that's not for me to say,
all I'm saying is the Earth was not made in a day.
(Chorus)
Fuck, fuck, fuck,
fuck the Creationists.
(Trash Talk)
Break it down.
Ah damn, this is a funky jam!
I'm about ready to kick this bitch back in.
Check it.
(Verse 2)
Fuck the damn creationists I say it with authority,
because kicking their punk asses be me paramount priority.
Them wack-ass bitches say, "evolution's just a theory",
they best step off, them brainless fools, I'll give them cause to fear me.
The cosmos is expanding every second, every day,
but their minds are shrinking as they close their eyes and pray.
They call their bullshit science like the word could give them cred,
if them bitches be scientists then cap me in the head.
(Chorus)
(Trash Talk)
Bass!
Bring that shit in!
Ah yeah, that's right, fuck them all motherfuckers.
Fucking punk ass creationists trying to set scientific thought back 400 years.
Fuck that!
If them superstitious motherfuckers want to have that kind of party,
I'm going to put my dick in the mashed potatoes.
Fucking creationists.
Fuck them.
Har. Does laughing loudly at that make me a bad person?
Not in my book.
May be a bit overkill, homeys, but MC Hawking has his own website.
[Edited by on Aug 19, 2005 at 09:39am.]
Shoe fly don't bother me.
Shoe fly don't bother me.
Shoe fly don't bother me.
Fourteen-long to somebody.
It was just before dawn
One miserable morning in black 'forty four.
When the forward commander
Was told to sit tight
When he asked that his men be withdrawn.
And the Generals gave thanks
As the other ranks held back
The enemy tanks for a while.
And the Anzio bridgehead
Was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives.
And kind old King George
Sent Mother a note
When he heard that father was gone.
It was, I recall,
In the form of a scroll,
With gold leaf and all.
And I found it one day
In a drawer of old photographs, hidden away.
And my eyes still grow damp to remember
His Majesty signed
With his own rubber stamp.
It was dark all around.
There was frost in the ground
When the tigers broke free.
And no one survived
From the Royal Fusiliers Company C.
They were all left behind,
Most of them dead,
The rest of them dying.
And that's how the High Command
Took my daddy from me.
Could be Jerusalem, or could be Cairo
Could be Berlin, or could be Prague
Could be Moscow, could be New York
Could be Llanelli, and could be Warrington
Could be Warsaw, and it could be Moose Jaw
Could be Rome
Everybody got somewhere they call home
When they overrun the defences
A minor invasion put down to expenses
Will you go down to the airport lounge
Will you accept your second class status
A nation of waitresses and waiters
Will you mix there martinis
Will you stand still for it
Or will you take to this hills
It could be clay and it could be sand
Could be desert
Could be a tract of arable land
Could be a house, could be a corner shop
Could be a cabin by bend in the river
Could be something you old men handed down
Could be something you built in your own
Everybody got something he calls home
When the cowboys and Arabs draw down
On each other at noon
In the cool dusty air of the city boardroom
Will you stand by a passive spectator
Of the market dictators
Will you discreetly withdraw
With your ear pressed to the boardroom door
Will you hear when the lion within you roars
Will you take to the hills
Will you stand, will you stand for it
Will you hear, ohhhh! ohhh! when the lion within you roars
Could be your father and could be your mother
Could be your sister, could be your brother
Could be a foreigner, could be Turk
Could be a cyclist out looking for work, Norman
Could be a king, could be the Aga Khan
Could be a Vietnam vet with no arms and no legs
Could be a saint, could be a sinner
Could be a loser or it could be a winner
Could be a banker, could be a baker
Could be a Laker, could be Kareem Abdul Jabar
Could be a mail voice choir
Could be a super heavyweight, or it could be something lighter
Could be a cripple, could be a freak
Could be a wop, gook, geek
Could be a cop, could be a thief
Could be a family of ten living in one room on relief
Could be a our leaders in their concrete tombs
With their tinned food and their silver spoons
Could be a pilot with God on his side
Could be a kid in the middle of the bomb sight
Could be a fanatic, could be a terrorist
Could be a dentist, could be a psychiatrist
Could be a humble, could be proud
Could be a face in the crowd
Could be a soldier in the white cravat
Who turns the key in spite of the fact
That this is the end of the cat and the mouse
Who dwelt in the house
Where the laughter rang and the tears were split
The house that Jack built
Where the laughter rang and the tears were split
The house that Jack built
Bang, bang, shoot, shoot
White gloves thumb, Lord thy will be done
He was always a good boy his mother said
He'll do this duty when he's grown, yeah
Everybody got someone they call home
Frosti 8/24/05 7:17am
Fantastic Post Frosti! One of my all-time favorites. Especially because those of us who've seen the movie 1000 times already knew the lyrics before they officially released it years later. It's too bad that length was the only reason why it wasn't included on the original album. The song itself isn't all that long.Â
I just bought another copy of The Final Cutand have been listening to it for the last week or so. It's stellar.
I get chills when I hear the single piano notes before this one.
Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes
I can barely define the shape of this moment in time
And far from flying high in clear blue skies
I'm spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide.
If you negotiate the minefield in the drive
And beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes
And if you make it past the shotguns in the hall,
Dial the combination, open the priesthole
And if I'm in I'll tell you what's behind the wall.
There's a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you're sleeping with your new found faith.
Could anybody love him
Or is it just a crazy dream?
And if I show you my dark side
Will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you
And show you my weak side
What would you do?
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?
Would you take the children away
And leave me alone?
And smile in reassurance
As you whisper down the phone?
Would you send me packing?
Or would you take me home?
Thought I oughta bare my naked feelings,
Thought I oughta tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands
Prepared to make it but just then the phone rang
I never had the nerve to make the final cut.
"Hello? Listen, I think I've got it. Okay, listen its a HaHa!"
I haven't listened to that album in forever. prob'ly 'cause we only got it on vinyl. I wouldn't mind hearing it again, though.
for Pepe!
We gonna drop this next bomb for a money makin' playa that ain't with us no mo.
Yeah, Notorious B.I.G.
Hell no, we gonna do this for a gangbanging thug that never seen it comin'.
Yeah, Tupac Shakur.
Nah bitch, I'm talkin' 'bout motherfuckin' Falco and shit.
Falco?
Rock me Amadeus
Rock me Amadeus
Rock me Amadeus
Rock me Amadeus
Tried to O.D. on the Cold-Eeze
Golden Girls got me Sweatin' To The Oldies
Hangin’ out like Double Ds sip Long Island Iced Teas
Wrote to Mayor McCheese "Send a Shamrock Shake please!"
Three O' Clock on the dot time to cruise for Eighth graders
Rather tape the Weather Channel so that I can watch it later
Reruns of Rerun so What's Happening?
Dee's knocked up and Rog on crack again
Deep throat a whole Nutty Buddy
Make whoopie to a batch of Silly Putty
Make a Spam and Colgate sandwich and ate it
Go through "National Geographic" and draw panties on the natives
So I like to dance naked in front of my pets
But my cat was inattentive so I sent him UPS
Playin' spin the bottle with my mom
I watch Cops with no pants on
Must've blown a fuse nothing's going on
Lamer than the Pope climb the walls like King Kong
Buggin' out like Tori Spelling's eyes
Deader than the parents on a Party of Five
Luciano Pavoratti on a treadmill
Not going nowhere slim chance we will
Less hip than Bo Jackson bored like wood
Dick around like Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Relax don't do it when you wanna go to it
Relax don't do it when you wanna cum
Relax don't do it when you wanna go to it
Relax don't do it when you wanna cum
Nowhere to go I can't wake up late
Just sit around and wait for my Old Spice to activate
Stalemate jailbait in My So-Called Life imprisonment
Amazing what a good breakfast pickles make isn't it?
I like to pretend I'm speedreading
Never lose the sight of the thrill of sneezing
Don't need a shower today just some Brut by Faberge
Smell the ass of my jeans clean they'll do another day
And I recycle I sniff my own farts
I dial the wrong number hope a conversation starts
I mean I might as well be listenin' to Journey
Givin' myself a mullet hook the Flowbee to the Kirby
Make a prank call pretendin' I'm a mime
Get stuck in traffic just to pass the time
Sent a letter in the mail in Braille to Johnny Quest
Send me back my Etch-A-Sketch.
Must've blown a fuse nothing's going on
Lamer than the Pope climb the walls like King Kong
Buggin' out like Tori Spelling's eyes
Deader than the parents on a Party of Five
Luciano Pavoratti on a treadmill
Not going nowhere slim chance we will
Less hip than Bo Jackson, bored like wood
Dick around like Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Relax don't do it when you wanna go to it
Relax don't do it when you wanna cum
Relax don't do it when you wanna go to it
Relax don't do it when you wanna cum
I'm mighty tighty whitey and I'm smugglin' plums
When you wanna cum
I'm mighty tighty whitey and I'm smugglin' plums
When you wanna cum
I'm mighty tighty whitey and I'm smugglin' plums
When you wanna cum
I'm mighty tighty whitey and I'm smugglin' plums
When you wanna cum
Yo yo yo yo yo! What it is motherfuckers?
Aw shit, here comes Pac-Man.
Hey Pac-Man, what's up?
Me you bitches! I'm high on crack! Wanna freebase?
No Pac-Man drugs are bad!
Nope, can't help you, man.
Pussies. Whoa! Holy shit!
Must've blown a fuse nothing's going on
Lamer than the Pope climb the walls like King Kong
Buggin' out like Tori Spelling's eyes
Deader than the parents on a Party of Five
Luciano Pavoratti on a treadmill
Not going nowhere slim chance we will
Less hip than Bo Jackson bored like wood
Dick around like Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Relax don't do it when you wanna go to it
Relax don't do it when you wanna cum
Relax don't do it when you wanna go to it
Relax don't do it when you wanna cum
Holy macaroni
Holy macaroni
Holy macaroni
Holy macaroni
Holy crap, it's 80's rap!
Pepecat just discovered the Bloodhound Gang! and that song makes me laugh 'til I fall in the floor. it'd be better if she could hear it, though.
It'd be better if we could all hear it!
Joe Tunage
Okay, now I'm going to haveto hear it. Gotta get my son to find it for me.
w00t!
speaking of 80s rap, I heard this as I was pulling in the parking lot. of course I cranked it.
now here's a little story I've got to tell
about three bad brothers you know so well
it started way back in history
with Adrock, MCA, and me - Mike D
had a little horsie named Paul Revere
just me and my horsie and a quart of beer
riding across the land, kicking up sand
sheriff's posse on my tail because I'm in demand
one lonely Beastie I be
all by myself without nobody
the sun is beating down on my baseball hat
the air is gettin' hot, the beer is getting flat
lookin' for a girl, I ran into a guy
his name is MCA, I said, "howdy" he said, "hi"
he told a little story that sounded well rehearsed
four days on the run and that he's dying of thirst
the brew was in my hand, and he was on my tip
his voice was hoarse, his throat was dry, he asked me for a sip
he said, "can I get some?"
I said, "you can't get none!"
had a chance to run
he pulled out his shotgun
he was quick on the draw, I thought I'd be dead
he put the gun to my head, and this is what he said
"now my name is MCA, I've got a license to kill
I think you know what time it is - it's time to get ill
now what do we have here - an outlaw and his beer
I run this land, you understand, I make myself clear."
we stepped into the wind, he had a gun, I had a grin
you think this story's over but it's ready to begin
Â
"now I got the gun, you got the brew
you got two choices of what you can do
it's not a tough decision as you can see
I can blow you away or you can ride with me"
Â
I said, "
I'll ride with you if you can get me to the border
the sheriff's after me for what I did to his daughter
I did it like this, I did it like that, I did it with a whiffleball bat
so I'm on the run - the cop's got my gun
and right about now - it's time to have some fun
the King Adrock - that is my name
and I know this fly spot where they got the champagne."
we rode for six hours then we hit the spot
the beat was a bumping and the girlies was hot
this dude was staring like he knows who we are
we took the empty spot next to him at the bar
MCA said, "yo, you know this kid?"
I said I didn't but I know he did
the kid said, "get ready cause this ain't funny
my name's Mike D and I'm about to get money."
pulled out the jammy - aimed it at the sky
he yelled, "stick 'em up!" - and let two fly
hands went up and people hit the floor
he wasted two kids that ran for the door
"I'm Mike D and I get respect
your cash and your jewelry is what I expect"
MCA was with it and he's my ace
so I grabbed the piano player and I punched him in the face
the piano player's out, the music stopped
his boy had beef - and he got dropped
Mike D grabbed the money, MCA snatched the gold
I grabbed two girlies and a beer that's cold
[Edited by on Aug 26, 2005 at 07:31am.]
That jenb, she's crafty...