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tattered jeans
the same ones from yesterday
tattooed to these worn legs
the same ones from yesterdayRadiohead – Street Spirit
Rows of houses, all bearing down on me
I can feel their blue hands touching me
All these things into position
All these things we’ll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade outThis machine will, will not communicate
These thoughts and the strain I am under
Be a world child, form a circle
Before we all go under
And fade out again and fade out againCracked eggs, dead birds
Scream as they fight for life
I can feel death, can see its beady eyes
All these things into position
All these things we’ll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out againImmerse your soul in love
Immerse your soul in loveonce upon a time
there lived a young boy
blah blah blahhe grew up
and lost all his toys
blah blah blahhe thinks that he tries
but knows that he doesn’t
blah blah blaheven in his youth
he knew that he wouldn’t
blah blah blahall right it has come
my package of seaweed
moist and layered
it’s all i needi’ll wrap you in it
and see you
with healthy teethonce and for all
the seaweedenvelopes
you awoke so early
i decided to make breakfast
cigarrettes and coffee
what a tasty exitand off you went
to go about your day
and back i went
in the bed i laytil you got home
bringing forth flowers
now side by side we lay
gazing upon our ceiling for hoursand i motion to you
to call your head in my arms
it’s all you can do
to ignore the alarmsfor tomorrow will come
and leave again you will
so i’ll keep a soft spot
inside of my heart, untilthe pressure’s all right
the feeling is fine
on this measured night
everything is in linethe timing is near
as if by the lord
for this heart to be pierced
and die by the swordthe blood can spill
out upon the floor
and without will
it will flow some morefor this heart has died
touched by some metal
and although it tried
the rose lost its petalsbut mourn me not gone
for many a heart yearn
it’s just this one pawn
that chose not to learnswallowed up in this world
the finale is pending
the fingernails have curled
and ode to the endinginside the walls, inside this home
i feel tired and quite alone
the only sound that’s heard more
is the creaking of the floorsup and down the stairs
i walk without a care
the rooms are packed full
but it feels empty and dullwon’t you come inside
i’ve undone my latch
and take a seat next to me
we’ll pass the time by falling asleepsame seller, another new boot
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll? … SS:GB:1123[/quote:397hj8b8]
This one doesn’t play Led Zeppelin though!
Cherub Rock Townhouse promo, ex-Ayoe.[/quote:2vumilgc]
[/quote:2vumilgc]It’s in the best of hands, babe.
10,000 hours asleep
trying to forget
1,000 pills downed
trying to forget
1,000,000 beers swallowed
trying to forget
100 images inside this brain
that never forgetdriving down middebrook lane
top down, for once no pain
the moon as my headlights
swerving to miss the dead of nightgoing nowhere but getting there fast
wondering if this feeling will ever pass
smoke one last cigarette to forget the day
things always ending up the same old way\"kill the headlights, and put it in neutral\"
coast to the edge to get a clearer picture
the stars constantly looking over me
and me staring right back, patientlythe iron gates squeal
as i push them aside
cobwebs destroyed
as if someone lied
enter the graveyard
as the fog lights the graves
move in closer
to see the many names
ooo i found a miller
my distant relative
says his name was harold
his name i must have missed
but behind me i hear
a twig crack in the night
i turn around to find
a scary fright
no one is there
just the trees a hummin’
let’s get the fuck outta here
before the zombies start comin’suffocating daily
lumber rolling logs
down the river
ending nowhere
build a house
bulid a home
see the green
morph into blueslowly moving across the ground
sidestepping trees in my path
leaving a trail of dust behind
a zigzag pattern of my gravesticks and stones can break these bones
but your words could never hurt me
along i trudge heading somewhere sunny
your words never fall upon these earsdancing from mushroom to mushroom
i am alone with the forest
and wet slimy slugs are keeping the beat
i’ve never felt so at home without youStone Temple Pilots – Atlanta
She lives in the bungalow
She kills me with rose garden thorns
She waits for me
My love is unusual
It’s painted with roses and thorns
With her I’m completeShe lives by the wall and waits by the door
She walks in the sun to me
She lives by the wall and waits by the door
She walks in the sun to meVisions of Mexico seduce me
It goes to my head so carefully
Memories of candles and incense
And all of these things remember these?She lives by the wall and waits by the door
She walks in the sun to me
She lives by the wall and waits by the door
She walks in the sun to meShe comforts me when the candles burn out
The cake has grown mold but the memories are sweet
The laughter’s all all gone but the memories are mine
The Mexican princess is out of my lifean angel floating on air
dropped below the evening sky
just to welcome me
and kiss thee
once and for all, goodbyethough you couldn’t be seen
your presence was all around
angel wings enveloped me
as you sang so sweetly
without ever making a soundso up to the heavens i rode
clinging on ever so tight
through the clouds we tore
wondering if there is more
you have shown me the lightif i was your mockingbird
i could sing to you a million songs
sitting in your little room
one repetition after the nextbut the beauty undeniable
each note seamlessly flowing
even sad songs from time to time
just to help you weepin my feathered arms
i could hold you forever
and carry you far away
across the nightto a place where we’d sing
endlessly passing the night
shiny ribbons flowing in the breeze
a soft wink to put you at easeemotions changing who you are
morphing and mutating
the pain of ithere one second, gone the next
watered down opinions float on by
little bubbles, popping silentlyi hate what i’ve become to you
a nothing in your eyes
a faint fading memoryi love who i once was
but i can never get back
to the way i used to beso i can just write some words
and hope to relate
for this lonesome night
i cannot tolerateThat the Italian jukebox 7\" for TEITBITE. B/W Paola Turci, an Italian artist.
Pretty fucking rare ass record.
the bottle floats along
in a sea of drift songs
the moon as its guide
shining in endless light
to wash ashore one day
inside the message will say
release me back to the sea
where no one will ever find me
