There are a lot of great lyricists out there. There are a lot of great poets. But only a few can make me go "WOOOOOOOAH.... DUDE", like a stoner. Here in no particular order are my favorite lyricists.
(Everyone about to beat the shit out of me, please have mercy)
(Pete Wentz, Mike Shinoda, Chester Bennington, Ryan Ross and Hayley Williams are not included and they never will be)
(Go cry about it if you must)
1. Patti Smith
Samples:
"Birdland"
His father died and left him a little farm in New England. All the long black funeral cars left the scene And the boy was just standing there alone Looking at the shiny red tractor Him and his daddy used to sit inside And circle the blue fields and grease the night. It was if someone had spread butter on all the fine points of the stars 'Cause when he looked up they started to slip. Then he put his head in the crux of his arm And he started to drift, drift to the belly of a ship, Let the ship slide open, and he went inside of it And saw his daddy 'hind the control board streamin' beads of light, He saw his daddy 'hind the control board, And he was very different tonight 'Cause he was not human, he was not human.
And then the little boy's face lit up with such naked joy That the sun burned around his lids and his eyes were like two suns, White lids, white opals, seeing everything just a little bit too clearly And he looked around and there was no black ship in sight, No black funeral cars, nothing except for him the raven And fell on his knees and looked up and cried out, “No, daddy, don't leave me here alone, Take me up, daddy, to the belly of your ship, Let the ship slide open and I'll go inside of it Where you're not human, you are not human.”
But nobody heard the boy's cry of alarm. Nobody there 'cept for the birds around the New England farm And they gathered in all directions, like roses they scattered And they were like compass grass coming together into the head of a shaman bouquet Slit in his nose and all the others went shooting And he saw the lights of traffic beckoning like the hands of Blake Grabbing at his cheeks, taking out his neck, All his limbs, everything was twisted and he said, “I won't give up, won't give up, don't let me give up, I won't give up, come here, let me go up fast, Take me up quick, take me up, up to the belly of a ship And the ship slides open and I go inside of it where I am not human.”
I am helium raven and this movie is mine, So he cried out as he stretched the sky, Pushing it all out like latex cartoon, am I all alone in this generation? We'll just be dreaming of animation night and day And won't let up, won't let up and I see them coming in, Oh, I couldn't hear them before, but I hear 'em now, It's a radar scope in all silver and all platinum lights Moving in like black ships, they were moving in, streams of them, And he put up his hands and he said, “It's me, it's me, I'll give you my eyes, take me up, oh now please take me up, I'm helium raven waitin' for you, please take me up, Don't leave me here!” The son, the sign, the cross, Like the shape of a tortured woman, the true shape of a tortured woman, The mother standing in the doorway letting her sons No longer presidents but prophets They're all dreaming they're gonna bear the prophet, He's gonna run through the fields dreaming in animation It's all gonna split his skull It's gonna come out like a black bouquet shining Like a fist that's gonna shoot them up Like light, like Mohammed Boxer Take them up up up up up up Oh, let's go up, up, take me up, I'll go up, I'm going up, I'm going up Take me up, I'm going up, I'll go up there Go up go up go up go up up up up up up up Up, up to the belly of a ship. Let the ship slide open and we'll go inside of it Where we are not human, we're not human.
Well, there was sand, there were tiles, The sun had melted the sand and it coagulated Like a river of glass When it hardened he looked at the surface He saw his face And where there were eyes were just two white opals, two white opals, Where there were eyes there were just two white opals And he looked up and the rays shot And he saw raven comin' in And he crawled on his back and he went up Up up up up up up Sha da do wop, da shaman do way, sha da do wop, da shaman do way, Sha da do wop, da shaman do way, sha da do wop, da shaman do way, Sha da do wop, da shaman do way, We like birdland.
"Babelogue"
Crazy and Sleepy
Komanshe
I lie beneath this netting of skin
I wake up
I lie peaceful and my knees are open
To the Sun
I desire him
And he's absolutely ready to seize me
In heart
I am Moslem
In heart
I am an American
In heart
I am Moslem
In heart I am an American Artist
And I have no guilt
I seek pleasure
I seek the nerves under your skin
The narrow archway;
the layers; the scroll of ancient lettuce.
We worship the flaw,
the belly,
the belly,
the mole on the belly of an exquisite whore.
He spared the child and spoiled the rod.
I have not sold myself to God.
2. Tom Waits
"Grapefruit Moon"
Grapefruit moon, one star shining, shining down on me. Heard that tune, and now I'm pining, honey, can't you see? 'Cause every time I hear that melody, well, something breaks inside, And the grapefruit moon, one star shining, can't turn back the tide.
Never had no destination, could not get across. You became my inspiration, oh but what a cost. 'Cause every time I hear that melody, well, something breaks inside, And the grapefruit moon, one star shining, is more than I can hide.
Now I'm smoking cigarettes and I strive for purity, And I slip just like the stars into obscurity. 'Cause every time I hear that melody, well, puts me up a tree, And the grapefruit moon, one star shining, is all that I can see.
"Black Wings"
Take an eye for an eye Take a tooth for a tooth Just like they say in the Bible Never leave a trace or forget a face Of any man at the table When the moon is a cold chiseled dagger Sharp enough to draw blood from a stone He rides through your dreams on a coach And horses and the fence posts In the midnight look like bones
Well they've stopped trying to hold him With mortar, stone and chain He broke out of every prison Boots mount the staircase The door is flung back open He's not there for he has risen He's not there for he has risen
Well he once killed a man with a guitar string He's been seen at the table with kings Well he once saved a baby from drowning There are those who say beneath his coat there are wings Some say they fear him Others admire him Because he steals his promise One look in his eye Everyone denies Ever having met him Ever having met him
He can turn himself into a stranger Wel lthey broke a lot of canes on his hide he was born away in a cornfield A fever beats in his head like a drum inside Some say they fear him Others admire him Because he steals his promise One look in his eye Everyone denies Ever having met him Ever having met him
3. Bob Dylan (I am so predicatble. But isn't it required that Bob Dylan be on every best lyricist list ever?)
"Like a Rolling Stone"
Once upon a time you dressed so fine You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you ? People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall" You thought they were all kiddin' you You used to laugh about Everybody that was hangin' out Now you don't talk so loud Now you don't seem so proud About having to be scrounging for your next meal.
How does it feel How does it feel To be without a home Like a complete unknown Like a rolling stone ?
You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely But you know you only used to get juiced in it And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it You said you'd never compromise With the mystery tramp, but know you realize He's not selling any alibis As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes And say do you want to make a deal?
How does it feel How does it feel To be on your own With no direction home Like a complete unknown Like a rolling stone ? You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns When they all come down and did tricks for you You never understood that it ain't no good You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat Ain't it hard when you discover that He really wasn't where it's at After he took from you everything he could steal.
How does it feel How does it feel To be on your own With no direction home Like a complete unknown Like a rolling stone ?
Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made Exchanging all precious gifts But you'd better take your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe You used to be so amused At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.
How does it feel How does it feel To be on your own With no direction home Like a complete unknown Like a rolling stone ?
"Gates of Eden"
Of war and peace the truth just twists Its curfew gull just glides Upon four-legged forest clouds The cowboy angel rides With his candle lit into the sun Though its glow is waxed in black All except when 'neath the trees of Eden.
The lamppost stands with folded arms Its iron claws attached To curbs 'neath holes where babies wail Though it shadows metal badge All and all can only fall With a crashing but meaningless blow No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden.
The savage soldiers sticks his head in sand And then complains Unto the shoeless hunter who's gone deaf But still remains Upon the beach where hound dogs bay At ships with tatooed sails Heading for the Gates of Eden.
With a time-rusted compass blade Alladin and his lamp Sits with Utopian hermit monks Side saddle on the Golden Calf And on their promises of paradise You will not hear a laugh All except inside the Gates of Eden.
Relationships of ownership They whisper in the wings To those condemned to act accordingly And wait for succeeding kings And I will try to harmonize with songs The lonesome sparrow sings There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden.
The motorcycle black madonna Two-wheeled gypsy queen And her silver-studded phantom cause The gray flannel dwarf to scream As he weeps to wicked birds of prey Who pick up on his bread crumb sins And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden.
The kingdoms of Experience In the precious wind they rot While paupers change possessions Each one wishing for what the other has got And the princess and the prince Discuss what's real and what is not It doesn't matter inside the Gates of Eden.
The foreign sun, it squints upon A bed that is never mine As friends and other strangers From their fates try to resign Leaving men wholly totally free To do anything they wish to do but die And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden.
At dawn my lower comes to me And tells me of her dreams With no attempts to shovel the glimpse Into the ditch of what each one means At times I think there are no words But these to tell what's true And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden.
4. Bruce Springsteen
"Born to Run" (MY NAME IS IN THIS SONG)
In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines Sprung from cages out on highway 9, Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin' out over the line Baby this town rips the bones from your back It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap We gotta get out while we're young `Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run
Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend I want to guard your dreams and visions Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims and strap your hands across my engines Together we could break this trap We'll run till we drop, baby we'll never go back Will you walk with me out on the wire `Cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider But I gotta find out how it feels I want to know if love is wild girl I want to know if love is real
Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors And the boys try to look so hard The amusement park rises bold and stark Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist I wanna die with you Wendy on the streets tonight In an everlasting kiss
The highway's jammed with broken heroes
on a last chance power drive Everybody's out on the run tonight but there's no place left to hide Together Wendy we'll live with the sadness I'll love you with all the madness in my soul Someday girl I don't know when we're gonna get to that place Where we really want to go and we'll walk in the sun But till then tramps like us baby we were born to run
"Streets of Philadelphia"
I was bruised and battered and I couldn't tell what I felt I was unrecognizable to myself Saw my reflection in a window I didn't know my own face Oh brother are you gonna leave me wasting away On the streets of Philadelphia
I walked the avenue till my legs felt like stone I heard the voices of friends vanished and gone At night I could hear the blood in my veins Just as black and whispering as the rain On the streets of Philadelphia
Ain't no angel gonna greet me It's just you and I my friend And my clothes don't fit me no more I walked a thousand miles just to slip this skin
The night has fallen, I'm lyin' awake I can feel myself fading away So receive me brother with your faithless kiss or will we leave each other alone like this On the streets of Philadelphia
5. Stevie Nicks (Oh, come on, I'm not going to leave her off. No way)
"Landslide"
I took my love, I took it down Climbed a mountain and I turned around I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills 'Till the landslide brought me down
Oh, mirror in the sky What is love Can the child within my heart rise above Can I sail through the changing ocean tides Can I handle the seasons of my life
Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes you get bolder Even children get older And I'm getting older too
Oh, take my love, take it down Climb a mountain and turn around If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills Well the landslide will bring it down
If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills Well the landslide will bring it down.
"Sisters of the Moon"
Intense silence As she walked in the room Her black robes trailing Sister of the moon And a black widow spider makes More sound than she And black moons in those eyes of hers Made more sense to me Heavy persuasion It was hard to breathe She was dark at the top of the stairs And she called to me
And so I followed As friends often do I cared not for love, nor money I think she knew The people, they love her And still they are the most cruel
She asked me Be my sister, sister of the moon Some call her sister of the moon Some say illusions are her game Wrap her in velvet Does anyone, ah, know her name
So we make our choices When there is no choice And we listen to their voices Ignoring our own voice
6. Kate Bush
"The Man With the Child in His Eyes"
I hear him, before I go to sleep And focus on the day that's been. I realise he's there, When I turn the light off and turn over.
Nobody knows about my man. They think he's lost on some horizon. And suddenly I find myself Listening to a man I've never known before,
Telling me about the sea, All his love, 'til eternity.
Ooh, he's here again, The man with the child in his eyes. Ooh, he's here again, The man with the child in his eyes.
He's very understanding, And he's so aware of all my situations. And when I stay up late, He's always waiting, but I feel him hesitate.
Oh, I'm so worried about my love. They say, "No, no, it won't last forever." And here I am again, my girl, Wondering what on Earth I'm doing here. Maybe he doesn't love me. I just took a trip on my love for him.
Ooh, he's here again, The man with the child in his eyes. Ooh, he's here again, The man with the child in his eyes
"Symphon in Blue"
I spent a lot of my time looking at blue, The colour of my room and my mood: Blue on the walls, blue out of my mouth; The sort of blue between clouds, when the sun comes out, The sort of blue in those eyes you get hung up about.
When that feeling of meaninglessness sets in, Go blowing my mind on God: The light in the dark, with the neon arms, The meek He seeks, the beast He calms, The head of the good soul department.
I see myself suddenly On the piano, as a melody. My terrible fear of dying No longer plays with me, for now I know that I'm needed For the symphony.
I associate love with red, The colour of my heart when she's dead; Red in my mind when the jealousy flies, Red in my eyes from emotional ties, Manipulation, the danger signs.
The more I think about sex, the better it gets. Here we have a purpose in life: Good for the blood circulation, Good for releasing the tension, The root of our reincarnations.
I see myself suddenly On the piano, as a melody. My terrible fear of dying No longer plays with me, for now I know that I'm needed For the symphony.
I spent a lot of my time looking at blue-- No wonder that I blue it!
7. Saul Williams
"Penny for a Thought" Cancel the apocalypse cartons of the milky way with pictures of a missing planet last seen in pursuit of an American dream this fool actually thinks he can drive his hummer on the moon blasting DMX off the soundtrack of a South Park cartoon niggas used to buy their families out of slavery now we buy chains and links, smokes and drinks they're paying me to record this, even more if you hear it somebody tell me what you think I should do with the money yes, friend tell me what you think I should do with the money exactly how much is it gonna cost to free Mumia? what's he gonna do with his freedom? talk on the radio? radio programming is just that - a brainwashin' gleamed of purpose to be honest, some freedom of speech makes me nervous and you looking for another martyr in the form of a man hair like a mane with an outstretched hand in a roar of hearts, thoughts, reactionary defensiveness and counter intelligence what exactly is innocence? fuck it, I do believe in the existence of police brutality who do I make checks payable to? (How 'bout I pay it in prayers?) a young child stares at a glowing screen transfixed by tales of violence his teenage father tells him that that's life, not that Barney shit a purple dinosaur that speaks of love, a black man that speaks of blood which one is keeping it real, son? who manufactured your steel, son? hardcore, ancient elements at the earth's core fuck it, I'mma keep speaking 'til my throats sore an emcee told a crowd of hundreds to put their hands in the air an armed robber stepped to a bank and told everyone to put their hands in the air a Christian minister gives his benediction while the congregation hold their hands in the air love the image of the happy Buddha with his hands in the air hands up if you're confused, define tomorrow your belief system ain't louder than my car system nigga walked down my block with his rotwiler, a subwoofer on a leash each one teach one the DJ spins a new philosophy into a barren mind I can't front on it my head nods as if to clear the last image from an etch-a-sketch something like Rakim said- I could quote any emcee, but why should I? how would it benefit me? karmic repercussions are your tales of reality worth their sonic laced discussions? suddenly, the ground shivers and quakes a newborn startles and wakes her mother rushes to her bed side to hold her to her breast milk of sustenance heals and nourishes from the depths of creation life still flourishes yet we focus on death and destruction, violence, corruption my people, let pharaoh go what have you bought into? how much will it cost to buy you out? what have you bought into? how much will it cost to buy you out? what have you bought into? how much will it cost to buy you out? so i keep 7 o'clock in the bank and gain interest in the hour of God I'm saving to buy my freedom, God, grant me wings, I'm too fly not to fly I soared further past humans without wings so I soar and fine tickling the feathers of my wings flying hysterically, over land numerically I am seven mountains higher than the valley of death Seven mountains higher than the valley of death Seven dimensions deeper than dimensions of breath we're performing an exorcism on all this keep it real-ism violence, sensationalism in the name of the hip hop that nurtured me, cultured me we are ordering all evil entities to exit this body, leave this body in the name of microphone fiends and a young boy's b-boy dreams we draw you to leave this body, leave this body all evil entities, all wannabe emcees decoys, decoys, send in the true b-boys the true b-boys be men, motherfuckers be men in the name of Scott La Rock in the name of T-La Rock motherfuckers don't remember how to do the reeboks walk, hop, I told you to leave this body leave this body, leave this body I told you to leave this body leave this body, leave this body motherfuckers must think I'm crazy shit, I think y'all motherfuckers is crazy I want my fuckin' MTV penny for a thought, nigga, penny for a thought what the fuck have you bought into?
"Telegram"
I'm falling up flights of stairs, scraping myself from the sidewalk, jumping from rivers to bridges, drowning in pure air. Hip Hop is lying on the side of the road, half dead to itself. Blood scrawled over its mangled flesh, like jazz, stuffed into an oversized record bag. Tuba lips swollen beyond recognition. Diamond studded teeth strewn like rice at karma's wedding. The ring bearer bore bad news. Minister of information wrote the wrong proclamation. Now everyone's singing the wrong song. Dissonant chords find necks like nooses. That nigga kicked the chair from under my feet. Harlem shaking from a rope, but still on beat. 'Damn that loop is tight.' Nigga, found a way to sample the way the truth the light. Can't wait to play myself at the party tonight. Niggas are gonna die. Cop car swerves to the side of the road. Hip Hop takes its last breath. The cop scrawls vernacular manslaughter onto a yellow pad, then balls the paper into his hand, deciding he'd rather free-style. 'You have the right to remain silent.' You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to remain silent. And maybe you should have before your bullshit manifested. These thugs can't fuck with me, they're too thugged out. Niggas think I'm bugged out, 'cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out. This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that. This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black. So where my aliens at? Girl, we're all illegal. This system ain't for us. It's for rich people. And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money. But you can't buy shit to not get hungry. Telegram to Hip Hop: Dear Hip Hop .(stop). This shit has gone too far. (stop). Please see that mixer and turntables are returned to Kool Herc. (stop). The ghettos are dancing off beat. (stop). The master of ceremonies have forgotten that they were once slaves and have neglected the occasion of this ceremony. (stop). Perhaps we should not have encouraged them to use cordless microphones, for they have walked too far from the source and are emitting a lesser frequency (stop). Please inform all interested parties that cash nor murder have been added to the list of elements. (stop). We are discontinuing our current line of braggadocio, in light of the current trend in 'realness'. (stop). As an alternative, we will be confiscating weed supplies and replacing them with magic mushrooms, in hopes of helping niggas see beyond their reality. (stop). Give my regards to Brooklyn. These thugs can't fuck with me, they're too thugged out. Niggas think I'm bugged out, 'cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out. This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that. This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black. So where my aliens at? Girl, we're all illegal. This system ain't for us. It's for rich people. And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money. But you can't buy shit to not get hungry.
8. Lou Reed
"Heroin"
I don't know just where I'm going But I'm gonna try for the kingdom, if I can 'Cause it makes me feel like I'm a man When I put a spike into my vein And I'll tell ya, things aren't quite the same When I'm rushing on my run And I feel just like Jesus' son And I guess that I just don't know And I guess that I just don't know I have made the big decision I'm gonna try to nullify my life 'Cause when the blood begins to flow When it shoots up the dropper's neck When I'm closing in on death And you can't help me now, you guys And all you sweet girls with all your sweet talk You can all go take a walk And I guess that I just don't know And I guess that I just don't know I wish that I was born a thousand years ago I wish that I'd sail the darkened seas On a great big clipper ship Going from this land here to that In a sailor's suit and cap Away from the big city Where a man can not be free Of all of the evils of this town And of himself, and those around Oh, and I guess that I just don't know Oh, and I guess that I just don't know Heroin, be the death of me Heroin, it's my wife and it's my life Because a mainer to my vein Leads to a center in my head And then I'm better off and dead Because when the smack begins to flow I really don't care anymore About all the Jim-Jim's in this town And all the politicians makin' crazy sounds And everybody puttin' everybody else down And all the dead bodies piled up in mounds 'Cause when the smack begins to flow Then I really don't care anymore Ah, when the heroin is in my blood And that blood is in my head Then thank God that I'm as good as dead Then thank your God that I'm not aware And thank God that I just don't care And I guess I just don't know And I guess I just don't know
"Pale Blue Eyes" (Favorite Song Ever)
Sometimes I feel so happy, Sometimes I feel so sad. Sometimes I feel so happy, But mostly you just make me mad. Baby, you just make me mad. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
Thought of you as my mountain top, Thought of you as my peak. Thought of you as everything, I've had but couldn't keep. I've had but couldn't keep. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
If I could make the world as pure and strange as what I see, I'd put you in the mirror, I put in front of me. I put in front of me. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
Skip a life completely. Stuff it in a cup. She said, Money is like us in time, It lies, but can't stand up. Down for you is up." Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
It was good what we did yesterday. And I'd do it once again. The fact that you are married, Only proves, you're my best friend. But it's truly, truly a sin. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
9. Morrissey
"Angel"
Angel, Angel Don't take your life tonight I know they takeant that they take in turn And they give you nothing realfor yourself in return And when they've used you And they've broken you And wasted all your money And cast your shell aside And when they've bought you And they've sold you And they've billed you for the pleasure And they've made your parents cry I will be here BELIEVE ME I will be here ...believe me Angel, don't take your live Some peopüle have got no pride They do not unterstand The Urgency of life But I love you more than lifeI love you more than life I love you more than life I love you more than life
"Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now"
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour But heaven knows I'm miserable now
I was looking for a job, and then I found a job And heaven knows I'm miserable now
In my life Why do I give valuable time To people who don't care if I live or die ?
Two lovers entwined pass me by And heaven knows I'm miserable now
I was looking for a job, and then I found a job And heaven knows I'm miserable now
In my life Oh, why do I give valuable time To people who don't care if I live or die ?
What she asked of me at the end of the day Caligula would have blushed
"You've been in the house too long" she said And I (naturally) fled
In my life Why do I smile At people who I'd much rather kick in the eye ?
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour But heaven knows I'm miserable now
"You've been in the house too long" she said And I (naturally) fled In my life Why do I give valuable time To people who don't care if I live or die ?
10. John Lennon
"Imagine"
Imagine there's no heaven It's easy if you try No hell below us Above us only sky Imagine all the people Living for today... Imagine there's no countries It isn't hard to do Nothing to kill or die for And no religion too Imagine all the people Living life in peace... You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will be as one Imagine no possessions I wonder if you can No need for greed or hunger A brotherhood of man Imagine all the people Sharing all the world... You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will live as one
"The Ballad of John and Yoko"
Standing on the dock at Southampton Trying to get to Holland or France The man in the Mac Said, "You've gotta go back" You know, they didn't even give us a chance
Christ, you know it ain't easy You know how hard it can be The way things are going They're gonna crucify me
Finally made the plane into Paris Honeymooning down by the Seine Peter Brown called to say "You can make it okay "You can get married in Gibraltar, near Spain"
Christ, you know it ain't easy You know how hard it can be The way things are going They're gonna crucify me
Drove from Paris to the Amsterdam Hilton Talking in our beds for a week The newspeople said "Say, what're you doing in bed?" I said, "we're only trying to get us some peace"
Christ, you know it ain't easy [John & Yoko lyrics on http://www.metrolyrics.com]
You know how hard it can be The way things are going They're gonna crucify me
Made a lightning trip to Vienna Eating chocolate cakes in a bag The newspapers said "She's gone to his head "They look just like two gurus in drag"
Christ, you know it ain't easy You know how hard it can be The way things are going They're gonna crucify me
Caught the early plane back to London Fifty acrons tied in a sack The men from the press Said, "we wish you success "It's good to have the both of you back"
Christ, you know it ain't easy You know how hard it can be The way things are going They're gonna crucify me The way things are going They're gonna crucify me The way things are going They're gonna crucify me
*prepares for crucifixion by angry panic/paramore/fob fans*
"You'll either love me, or hate me. I'm nothing special, but I'm probably more important than you. I am constantly changing; everyday of my life. I am who I am, get over it. When I walk in the room, I make heads turn and pants stretch. May 22nd. I am 15. Love noodle and green tea. I eat with chopsticks. I get jealous, just like everyone. I sin just like everyone. I probably change my hair in a year, more than you've changed your hair in a lifetime. I get my hair professionally styled every 2 months; I change it everytime. Half the city knows me by false rumors or my hair. Get this shit straight, I back down to no one . I gotta admit that I'm fucking amazing. If I had a penis; it'd be bigger than yours. Don't act like you don't pay attention to everything I do. I've learned to be lonely, thats why I could survive without anybody; but I would rather not. I don't do first moves. Moving to california when I turn 19. Boys with unstyled hair is a big turn off. Plain old brown hair is boring, do something with it. People with sweet hair, have personality and indivuality. To me, if your hair is plain, so are you. I am going to cosmotology school once I turn 18. MAC and Chanel makeup is amazing. I am picky about teeth. I hate when guys cling. I can only think of few people I SINCERLY "love"; 2 friends, my family, and most importantly, God. Do not get the wrong impression about me, I am not stuck up in person, I am not a snob or a brat. I can be a bitch when I want to be. I am not a bad person. Though I am up front. Mess with me or my friends and you will be spitting blood.
home schooled. herpetophobia. demonophobia. lilapsophobia. anxeity. usually dancing. believes in karama. believes in magick. gemini. horoscopes and astrology. stars and comets. love to travel; long drives. japanese food. love jewlery. bling bling. eats with chop sticks. dont get much sleep. nocturnial. 20/20 meat addict; medium rare. dont get sick much anymore. could survive alone. eyes turn bright blue when i cry, ;also when in exposer sunlight. going outside in the sun gives me a migraine. i wear thick black glasses outside. get burnt easily. loves nature. loves animals. fully against animal cruelty. seafooood and seafoood web designer naturally porcelain pale. attracted to neon colors. bright, cutesy, bubbly. friendly with anyone. ever-changing hair colors and styles. green tea ♥ hate silence. love sun rises. i get jealous, just like everyone. loved hello kitty since 1993. my life revolves around music. i get bad anxiety attacks. white chocolate mochas from starbucks. lived in 8 diffrent homes. my brain freezes when i think hard. never broken a bone. mac & chanel make-up. worry too much. im very sensitive about certain things. i dont fear to die. i hate most girls."
I am not going to tell you this girl's screen name. Because I am not like that however.
Let's go through this ludicrous example of dellusional narcissism, shall we?
"I'm nothing special, but I'm probably more important than you."
First, that's an oxymoron. Second, no you're not. You're a 15 year old brat from Nowhere USA who likes *gasp!* Hello Kitty (hxc!OMGWTF!) and sunrises. And you put more chemicals in your hair than an oncologist puts in a leukemia patient.
Congratulations, you're a cliche.
You're more important than me? Ok, really, what have you ever done that is important. Is it that you don't tolerate animal cruelty or that "When I walk in the room, I make heads turn and pants stretch." Wow. Great job Oprah. You view yourself as a sex object.
I came across this idiotic narcissus when my friend, chloetraisnel (Buzznet Original and major contributor!) told me not to add this person to my friends list.
"Some weeks ago a girl sent a friend request to me. Just read the first lines of her About Me section (if you can), it's hilarious (or depressing, you choose)..."
Oops.....
Anyways.
This is what the scene breeds. You may also wish to take this into consideration:
"Boys with unstyled hair is a big turn off. Plain old brown hair is boring, do something with it. People with sweet hair, have personality and indivuality. To me, if your hair is plain, so are you. "
I really hope most people don't think it's a good idea to judge people by their hair. I am PROUD to have "plain old boring brown hair".
It suits me. It says "I don't have the time or motivation to spend a gazillion hours dyeing my hair fifteen different colors at one time. I have better things to do."
Nice, isn't it?
I'm not sayiong all people who multicolor their hair are like this. Pipsykins and Pompasaurus are totally rad.
But still.....
Trust me, this is just ONE example of what the scene breeds.
Fuck the Scene.
Thanks Audrey.
In the Words of The Academy Is... "Now we've got a big big mess on our hands tonight"
David Sherwin and John Howlett (Script: “Crusaders”)
Starring:
Malcolm McDowell
Christine Noonan
David Wood
Considering the amount of hoopla over the DVD release of Rob Zombie’s “Eh, not too bad” remake of Halloweenand Mr. Michael Myers’ entry into our fine community here on Buzznet, I thought I’d put a bit of focus for my first review of Myers’ righteous nemesis, Dr. Loomis (the old guy). Or, more accurately, the man playing him, the legendary Malcolm McDowell. I wanted to pay some tribute to his work when he was young.
McDowell, 1975
If you are any fan of cinema, then you probably know McDowell from his portrayal of Alex Delarge in Stanley Kubrick’s masterpiece A Clockwork Orange. But rather than focus on the same film everybody else does, I am going to discuss another major role in McDowell’s early career. Mr. Mick Travis.
McDowell played Travis in three films directed by his friend and mentor, legendary director Lindsey Anderson, If... (1968), O Lucky Man! (1973), and BritanniaHospital(1982). All of which were satires on separate aspects of British (and in several cases, American) culture. If… was the first, a satire of the rigid and hypocritical government and authority within British public (or, as we say in America, private) boarding schools.
If… was McDowell’s first film, and it was the beginning of a fantastic actor-director relationship comparable to Robert DeNiro and Martin Scorsese or Elian Kanzo and Marlon Brando. McDowell plays the part of Mick, a rebellious student at “College House” who’s acts of resistance under the harsh and abusive treatment of the school’s hierarchy increases rapidly in risk and extremity.
Andersonwas a brilliant director, who kept the story believable despite random shifts in reality. The film is shot mostly in color with occasional scenes shot in black and white (due to the film’s limited budget). Despite this, the color changes are done gracefully. One shift in particular sticks in my memory where Mick Travis is fencing wildly in one of the school’s gymnasiums with his two best friends Johnny and Wallace (David Wood and Richard Warwick). At first in black and white, it shows the boys racing around the gym, then out the door to another. Upon their entering a second room, the scene is suddenly in color.
While Travis is the obvious main character, excerpts of the film lack his presence completely and instead follow other characters. The authority at College House displays itself in shots surrounding numerous characters, including the all-powerful and abusive Prefects or “Whips” and the Freshmen “Scum”. The Scum get treated as slaves by The Whips and, in some cases, as sex objects.
The homosexual environment reveals itself on several occasions, instances when combined make for a surprisingly balanced view considering the time period (Gay sex had only just been partially decriminalized in Britain). Of course, a building filled with teenage boys, it is bound to reveal itself even with heterosexuals, tension mounts. Sometimes it is dealt with tenderness, but other times it can seem repulsive. There are the Whips, in particular the head prefect Rowntree (Robert Swann) and Fortinbras (Michael Cadman), who exploit the angelic-looking freshman Bobby Philips (Rupert Webster). In one scene, after Bobby Philips leaves the Whips’ study after serving them muffins, Fortibras remarks to Rowntree, “He gets a little lovelier each day. You and your wholesome Bobby Philips is going to drive us mad with jealousy” then proceeds to inform the Prefects that the Whips from another House at the school propositioned that Rowntree and Fortinbras send Philips to scum for them in exchange for their tailor. “That little blonde, MWAH!”. Within a minute, the sequence shifts focus from a sexual revelation to a biting wake-up to just how drunk and perverted on power the Whips are. On the other side, we see the same Bobby Philips having innocent, yet intimate encounters with Travis’s friend Wallace which later prove to form a bond as deep and valuable as any other relationship with a degree in romance.
But this film isn’t about sexual exploration. It’s about corruption and cruelty.Another victim is seen in a new Scum called Jute (Sean Bury) who on the first day receives a sneer of “You don’t talk to us” from a senior when asking for directions. Later on we find him being instructed in the mandatory knowledge of the College House etiquette and names of the seniors. He is quizzed by his peers, who hit and yell fiercely at him when he gets the answer right but says it wrong. “It’s not just the matter of the answer, but how you say it. One mistake and you fail the whole test and we all get beaten.” Simple statements like this come out at you unexpected no matter what the setting.
Welcome to College House. When they say “New Blood”, they mean it literally.
But back to Mick Travis, a senior, who normally would not be much of a victim if he only conformed. But Mick Travis is a character described by director Lindsey Anderson as “One who stands up and says no against overwhelming odds.” This is not apparent at first, though you know straight away when you meet him that he is rebel. The first full shot of his face is of him sporting a strictly forbidden moustache. But as your revulsion at the Whips’ abuse rises, so does the extremity in Travis’ rebellious behavior.
Travis though proves himself to be revolutionary in more ways than one. You are enraptured by his obvious intelligence, boyish charm, and wild exploits. At the same time you are repeatedly taken off guard by certain actions and statements by him. No matter what, you know he is a challenging character, one who is observant and willful.
In between major acts of defiance by Travis (including a scene in which he escapes with Johnny to the town and steals a motorcycle, another of an act of frightening violence, and of course the shocking, though metaphorical, ending), two queer quirks repeat themselves. One being Travis himself, who when fooling around in the study he shares with his friends occasionally utters random statements of strange yet striking philosophy when he should be making some typically adolescent comment. The foreshadowing is evident enough to make you aware of its purpose but cryptic enough to keep the outcome of the whole film shocking.
The second quirk is the tendency of this film to let fantasy pop up in the middle of reality, a perfect example being the infamous coffee shop scene. After abruptly kissing the girl-clerk (Christine Noonan) harshly and going to the jukebox, the girl approaches and challenges him. The two quickly engage in a bizarre growling match. A second later they are wrestling naked on the floor. Other instances of this are less intense and more humorous, such as when the Headmaster of the school commands Mick, Johnny, and Wallace to apologize to the school chaplain. The Headmaster then opens the top drawer of his desk and out pops the Chaplain, ready to shake the boys’ hands.
Overall, If… is a masterpiece, simply put. It adds all the dynamics of authority and rebellion. The performances, particularly McDowell’s, are nothing short of spectacular and the characters are relatable and captivating. Multiple meanings are found in every scene each time you watch the film, and no matter what, you never lose interest. And as the film progressives, the question is still relevant: Which side are you on?
(Thanks to John Ounceofwentz and Huldaholm for your help!)
Two bands. Nine giant egos. One set from England. One set who wish they were. Who will win the Thunderdome match?
How this Works:
Take two bands, name strengths and weaknesses of each, see which one fares better.
The Killers
vs
Oasis
Strengths
The Killers:
Height (Brandon Flowers the only member under 6 feet) +2 Youth (All under thirty years of age) +2
Friendship with Lou Reed (Good, mandolin-armed backup) +4
Facial Hair (Easier to hide pain and weakness) +2 Brandon Flowers’ Shiny Outfits (Can Blind Opponents) +7
Androgynous Tendencies (Confidence in Identity, Harder to Intimidate) +3
Oasis: Eyebrows (Even more hairy than The Killer’s mustaches, even easier to hide pain) + 4
Experience and Constant Practice (Have not stopped feuding with anyone whether Blur, themselves, or their own toddlers, keeps them in tip-top shape) + 5 From Manchester (Able to keep up crazy-ass soccer hooligans) +8
Ferocity (No spiritual or religious qualms with insulting people) +2
Reputation (Been around longer, therefore greater Prestige) +2
Weaknesses The Killers: Mormons (Religious convictions may incline them to hold back) -3 Raised in Las Vegas Suburbs (Protected childhood thins skin) -1 Bono (Even more moral qualms to restrict ferocity) -3
Brandon Flowers’ mouth (Remarks ruined chances of alliance with FOB/AVA/P@tD/Green Day, etc) -6
Oasis: Age (Either pushing or having reached forty, back pains get fiercer, spryness and energy reduced) -3
Gallagher Brothers’ mouths (While the Killers alienated a few possible allies, these guys have pissed so many people off that the only friends Oasis have got left are those wimps in Kasabian) -6 Heavy Drinkers (Greater Possibility of livers acting up) -2 Inter-band-feuds (So pissed at each other, might end up killing their band mates instead of opponents; lack of team unity) -4
At words poetic, I'm so pathetic That I always have found it best, Instead of getting 'em off my chest, To let 'em rest unexpressed, I hate parading my serenading As I'll probably miss a bar, But if this ditty is not so pretty At least it'll tell you How great you are.
You're the top! You're the Coliseum. You're the top! You're the Louver Museum. You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss You're a Bendel bonnet, A Shakespeare's sonnet, You're Mickey Mouse. You're the Nile, You're the Tower of Pisa, You're the smile on the Mona Lisa I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop, But if, baby, I'm the bottom you're the top!
Your words poetic are not pathetic. On the other hand, babe, you shine, And I can feel after every line A thrill divine Down my spine. Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans Might think that your song is bad, But I got a notion I'll second the motion And this is what I'm going to add;
You're the top! You're Mahatma Gandhi. You're the top! You're Napoleon Brandy. You're the purple light Of a summer night in Spain, You're the National Gallery You're Garbo's salary, You're cellophane. You're sublime, You're turkey dinner, You're the time, the time of a Derby winner I'm a toy balloon that’s fated soon to pop But if, baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top!
You're the top! You're an arrow collar You're the top! You're a Coolidge dollar, You're the nimble tread Of the feet of Fred Astaire, You're an O'Neill drama,
You're Whistler's mama!
You're camembert.
You're a rose, You're Inferno's Dante,
You're the nose On the great Durante. I'm just in a way, As the French would say, "de trop". But if, baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top!
You're the top! You're a dance in Bali. You're the top! You're a hot tamale. You're an angel, you, Simply too, too, too diveen, You're a Boticcelli, You're Keats, You're Shelly!
You're Ovaltine! You're a boom, You're the dam at Boulder, You're the moon, Over Mae West's shoulder, I'm the nominee of the G.O.P.
Or GOP!
But if, baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top!
You're the top! You're a Waldorf salad. You're the top! You're a Berlin ballad. You're the boats that glide On the sleepy Zuider Zee, You're an old Dutch master,
You're Lady Astor, You're broccoli! You're romance, You're the steppes of Russia, You're the pants, on a Roxy usher, I'm a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop,
Around this time of year, of course, EVERYONE is playing Christmas music. And there are more than enough songs about snow. Walking in a Winter Wonderland, Let It Snow, etc. But there are less seasonal songs which are relevant year round which make me think of snow nonetheless. Somehow they manage to capture some parts of a day or night when it snows in the strangest ways. Totally obscure connections, but it's what I think of nonetheless. What songs that make me snow do I play once the Holiday season is over?Here are my favorites.
Arcade Fire: "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)"
OK, kind of a giveaway. The song IS about digging Tunnels in the snow to escape suburbia to live in the wilderness with someone you love...... or something. But it's not exactly a song a DJ would play in between "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" and "Frosty the Snowman." But it is pretty effing gorgeaus.
Fleetwood Mac: "Gypsy"
It's funny since the video depicts a sunny forest in springtime and a rainy inner city, but I love this song. And it always feels as if something is falling from the sky when I listen to it... Something wonderful. The lyrics make me think of that feeling you get once you wake up and you see so much snow falling and once you've slept off the fatigue, you have the strangest urge to run out there like you're six again and make a snowman. It feels so incredible to see snowfall like that. Like someone has brought you a rare gift. Oh, and the guitar line helps a bit too
David Bowie: "Oh! You Pretty Things"
I put David in too many of my lists. But anyways, this song feels to me like greeting the day. Though the verses don't exactly work, I just listen to how he sings it. Then once the first chorus moves in, it feels like when your school announces that despite the six inches that fell last night, that they ARE STILL HAVING SCHOOL. And you get to look forward to trying to drive on the icy roads. Or when your parents make you shovel the driveway. Both work.
Final Fantasy: "This Is The Dream of Win and Regine"
Ignore the video, which makes no sense whatsoever. But, uh, that background sound makes me think of windshield wipers, if that makes any sense at all. I don't know, the whole song is just really pretty and makes me think of drinking hot cocoa and looking at the snow still falling, knowing another day off is in your future.
The Beatles: "Blackbird"
Probably the strangest, most indirect connection I could make. It reminds me, though, of when I was little and waking up in the middle of the night to find that it's started to snow. It's the most curious sensation in the world. I would start to wonder what the crows were doing and feeling sorry for them but nonetheless feeling excited about the snow and knowing I had been hoping for it, and kind of wanting to be able to fly out my window along with the snowflakes. The excitement is indescribable.
Frank Sinatra: "Come Fly With Me"
This song is just romantic and great for the indoors being cozy or out on a balcony where the breeze is going and Sinatra had a voice like velvet. I kind of associate this song the way I do with Blackbird because for some reason I associate snow with flying. Why? I do not know. And it's just a good song to have around during the winter to warm you up. But then again, what song by Sinatra isn't?
Maybe you guys see it, maybe you don't, but it's what I think of anyway.
I had 15 slides and I was still under 15 minutes because the content was good but did not take too long to say plus she couldn't find anything I'd missed so she didn't need to interrupt me. I was kind of worried I forgot something, but I asked her after class and she was like, "It was excellent" and I was like, "Did I get an A?" And she was like, "I think you most certainly got an A" and I got to talk more about the interview and after I had gone up (worrying slightly that it would be held against me that it might be interpreted as pro-gay propoganda) my teacher spoke out and elaborated on one of the points in the catechism I had explained and was like, "The Christian Right likes to gay-bash these days, which is really bad and as Christians, we must be a Christ to everyone and treat everyone with charity, that includes people of another orientation." And I got to talk about Mark's story with the priest and mentioned how it violated the sacrament of confession and she was like, "That's very un-christian." That was the only time she spoke while I went through my presentation and usually she interrupts people's presentations because they forgot something, or she thought they needed more information, but she didn't with mine!!! HOORAY! And one of my classmates told me she liked it!!!! I'M SO HAPPY THANK YOU MARK FOR HELPING!!!... And I got to talk about Mark's urban cycling.
Keep in mind, this was a religion class in a catholic school and the class is taught by a former nun.
And I included SO MUCH CHURCH COMMENTARY (Three catechism passages and two other documents discussing family issues) AND IT STILL CAME OUT POSITIVE!!!! NOT JUST POSITIVE TOWARD THE LGBT COMMUNITY BUT IT CAME OUT POSITIVE FOR THE CHURCH BECAUSE I STRESSED MESSAGES OF TOLERANCE AND MENTIONED MARK'S QUOTE ON HOW IT IS NOT GOOD TO JUST BLAME CHRISTIANITY BUT THAT MORE BLAME SHOULD GO TO THE PATRIARCHAL SOCIETY WE'VE BUILT UP!!!!!!!!
Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! I’ve been sooooo busy! But I really like this installment. Also I’m looking for people to help me because I looked at my list of women and it is REALLY LONG AND I HAVE NO CLUE HOW I’M GOING TO DO THEM ALL. Anyways, send me a message if you want to help. Note: Before anyone asks, Amy Lee, Hayley Williams, and that chick from Flyleaf will NOT be appearing in this series. NO. NO. NO. NO. So don’t ask me. And don’t bitch.
PJ Harvey
PJ Harvey is who pretty much every woman with an edge wants to be. This British singer-songwriter has been a round only since the early nineties but she’s already gained the acclaim and legend status of women who’ve been around twice as long. She has two, count them, TWO albums in rolling stone’s 500 greatest albums of all time. She has always been a tough chick, edgy and fascinating. And the emotion and devotion she puts into her songs is nothing short of epic. She never tried to associate herself with any scene. She doesn’t try to offer inspiration to women. She tries to offer inspiration to people who write music. She definitely has accomplished that.
Shame
Ann Wilson
The Heart singer has made her mark numerous times upon the music scene since the beginning of her career in 1973. Heart was one of the most popular bands of the mid-seventies, thanks to no small park to Ann’s intense, emotion-wraught voice. Her voice WAS rock and roll, deep, powerful and strong. I’m kind of crazy on her.
Crazy On You
Mama Cass
Even after the Mamas and the Papas broke up, Mama Cass continued to have a successful solo career, securing her own identity. Heavy lady? Sure. But she had a standout voice which made her a star, impossible to ignore. Her great, sunny, and humorous personality lit up the stages along with her voice, making her endearing and sweet. She had a long reign in pop music until her tragic death in 1974.
Dream a Little Dream of Me
Patti Scialfa
Alright, instead of making a bad attempt at trying not to call attention to a fact we will be required to mention in order to make this credible, we’ll just say it right now: YES, SHE IS BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN’S WIFE AND PART OF THE E STREET BAND! OK, now we’re done. Good. She’s been active since the late seventies and studied jazz in college, afterwards trying to make her way as a songwriter. After being added to the E Street band lineup, she got her break, also working with The Rolling Stones in 1986. Since she’s come out with three excellent and acclaimed solo albums Rumble Doll, 23rd Street Lullaby, and Play It As It Lays (which came out this year and totally deserves a tour as it kicks butt and agrees with me that rock these days needs more Chuck Berry rip-offs. But of course, the brilliant Magic came out. And Magic is too powerful, especially as it’s helmed by her husband, What’s-His-Face) Her range has always been impressive, and her songs gutsy confessions and pure personality. And THAT’S WHY SHE RULES AT LIFE. SO STOP YOUR BITCHING HATERS.
Looking For Elvis
Bjork
It’s really kind of hard for me to talk about Bjork because she’s really weird and scares me a bit. If you think her wardrobe is out of this world though, you really need to hear the crazy-ass songs she writes. Whilst hearing them, you’ll hear her crazy voice. She’s been around since she broke out of Iceland in 1977 and still no one has outdone her in terms of surrealism. Her experimentation has brought her into the realms of jazz, alternative, electronica, folk, pop, and trip-hop, among other things. She is a multi-Brit-winner and one of the few musicians that does not suck at acting. She’s sold over 30 million albums worldwide and has taken nearly every role possible in the recording process: Singing, Songwriting, composing, producing, arranging, programming, label-heading. Picture a female, cocaine-lacking Brian Wilson on Ritalin and you’ll have a fair idea of her numerous talents. And yes, she’s still freaking adorable.
Unravel
Patti LaBelle
She’s an R&B and soul legend of epic proportions and she’s better than you. And Beyonce. She’s got some of the most distinctive pipes in music history, incredible passion, and she’s been around for almost fifty years. Her hits like New Attitude and On My Own are still soul standards and she’s influenced every R&B singer since the seventies. Oh, and it was her who originally did this song with her group LaBelle.
Lady Marmalade
Next Installment: Carly Simon, Joan Jett, Karen Carpenter, Palmolive, Lauryn Hill, and Ronnie Spektor.
Yeah, that's how jazzed up I am right now. I censored "shit."
Ok. So here is something my dad just told me:
Even as a baby, I had good taste in music.
My dad told me when I was a baby, there were about four ways to get me to stop crying:
1. Feed me
2. Change my diaper
3. Burp Me
4. Turn on Bruce Springsteen!!!!
And so then, I get out 'Born to Run' to see if it made me feel better after finding out that I will NOT be going to California after all.
Well, I did.
Reason?
In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway american dream At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines Sprung from cages out on highway 9, Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin out over the line Baby this town rips the bones from your back Its a death trap, its a suicide rap We gotta get out while were young `cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run
Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend I want to guard your dreams and visions Just wrap your legs round these velvet rims And strap your hands across my engines Together we could break this trap Well run till we drop, baby well never go back Will you walk with me out on the wire `cause baby Im just a scared and lonely rider But I gotta find out how it feels I want to know if love is wild, girl I want to know if love is real
Beyond the palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors And the boys try to look so hard The amusement park rises bold and stark Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist I wanna die with you Wendy on the streets tonight In an everlasting kiss
The highways jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive Everybodys out on the run tonight but theres no place left to hide Together Wendy well live with the sadness Ill love you with all the madness in my soul Someday girl I dont know when were gonna get to that place Where we really want to go and well walk in the sun But till then tramps like us baby we were born to run
ISN'T THAT COOL???
I thought having the same birthday as Harvey Milk, Morrissey and Arrthur Conan Doyle and the same name as Wendy Wasserstein was cool. BUT THIS IS SO MUCH COOLER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It was a joke in tribute to lennon/mccartney and I didn't think anyone would take it seriously! The line "The late blogger johnnynotsid is dead. She died of death, which killed her" is a rip-off of John Lennon's joke from the newspaper he had as a kid The Daily Howl which read, "Our late editor is dead. He died of death, which killed him." I had read that this morning and remembered the rumors of Paul Mccartney's death that went around in 1968 and thought it was hilarious and wanted to see if anyone would spot the reference, what with the anniversary of Lennon's death coming up. I never meant to scare anyone and I feel awful. I'm sorry. It was stupid.
Don't worry guys. I'm alive and healthy and I am typing this to you right now. I have not seen my Uncle Tom in three years.
Cookies, punch and pie to all of you. IM SO SORRY! I didn't think anyone would believe it nor did I think many people would care enough to read the bulletin in the first place. I had no idea how seriously you guys took these things. Real eye-opener.
