I remember the endless longing. That called inside of me,. From fountains of expression,. Trying to break free.. Nothing left to say. When the walls give way..
April thirtieth, the souls of the risen. are leading the way. The first of May.. Black magic night, witches holiday,. their torches glow.. Eternal evil, it summons.
Under brooding skys and watchful eyes. On convulsive seas of false urgency. We walk empty corridors in vain.
There floats a phantom on the slums foul air. shaping to the eyes which have the gift of seeing. Nemesis of neglect nemesis of neglect. Into the specture of that loathly lair face it for your vein is fleeing.
No ones more happy than you. Even the sky's feeling blue. And you don't believe, but it's true. No one's more happy than you. . A beautiful Hackensack night.
Intro:. He's back our old dear friend. The crack of her whip won't be heard again. And so now we'll sing (sing). To him and what he has been through. .
[written by Johnathan Richman]. . well, i've already been to Paris, i've already been to Rome. but what did i do but miss my home?. oh, New England. i went out west to Californ'.
clockwork is usually the way good things work. but if your someone like me then clockwork is worst. so someone please tell me im doing no wrong. and someone please tell me we didn't write this song.
I got no time to kill, I got nothin' to do. Slow on producitivity 'cause nothin' is new. Music is a mockery and words mean less. Silence or destruction, it's a bloody mess.
Now that i tried. To make up all the times. You left with a hole in my heart. for you tearing it apart, one more night. These feelings, i shake. I know the mistake.
No static, no static, got an automatic. No static, no no static, no static, no static. Too much of anything makes you an addict. . Take a nigga back to tobacco road.
fall asleep in the living room,. accept your poisoning, subdued by news cops or slogans,. so it aint perfect but i hear this land is free,. but whos so free these days?.
hands clasped feet resting in the sink engulfed by silence,. i hadnt seen you for so long, you said,. "stop being so dramatic",. state of drunkeness lines in a play we have rehearsed,.
I distress you for my own pleasure. (my feeling reach the climax). you're gonna scream and you lose your head. (hey you! you are so neat). now I know that you've done so dirty to me.
Stop - before you walk away. Stop - hear me when I say. I - didn't mean to hurt you last night. . I know I left you alone.. . Oh you - have the right to run.
She was a back street dancer out-a New Orleans. Been featured once or twice in the small magazine. . Doing alright - yes. She's doing alright.. She's on Broadway.
Now it sees that night is day. My uneasy focus has slipped away. Drunk from the poison cup brings sheer relief to me. Head full of the news, twenty-first century.
Can you hear the sound. of the fiddle and the drum ?. passing them fade. Can you hear the sound. of chanting in the streets ?. screaming for better days..
It's the kind of grey November day that washes away reflections. In the eyes of hotel porters. And the latticed wooden benches by the sea contain no travellers.
It was a night meeting:. somewhere in a troubled land.. They came with no greeting;. left without a shaken hand.. . Nearby the town sleeping. was unaware of what was done..