I Will Sing You Songs

[ratsprayer]

Rats, what's that song? I love the lyrics!

the song is 'past belief' by dan bern, from his newest album BREATHE.  personally, i think overall the album is his weakest, but lately i can't get enough of that song.  glad you enjoy it.

[Chills]

    

Dear Employer (The Reason I Quit)


Dear employer, I'd like to tell you
It's been wonderful, for all these years
But now you know, I've got a new shoe
And I'll be wearing it so far from here

Dear employer, your escalators
Are very dangerous on the way down
They rip the skin and they pull you in
Spit out the bony bits and coffee grounds

Dear employer, I heard a story
When you were just knee-high, higher than I
You built the wings, the propeller too
With balsa wood and glue you made it fly

Dear employer, you commanded me
Your commendations now don't mean as much
'Cause I'm a lost cause, causing a problem
And I promise to be way out of touch

Dear employer, when you hear the news
Please save the saintly words for saintly souls
'Cause I'll be long gone, long gone and rotting
Long gone and ulcerous, nothing I'm told

That's the reason that I quit
The reason that I quit

[megisnotreal]

Fluorescent lights engage
Blackbirds frying on a wire
Same birds that followed me to school When I was young
Were they trying to tell me something
Were they telling me to run

The hammer clicks in place
The world's gonna pay
Right down in the face of God and his saints
Claim your soul's not for sale
I'm a dying breed who still believes
Haunted by American dreams
Haunted by American dreams

[aMD]

Don't go to church on Sunday
Don't get on my knees to pray
Don't memorize the books of the Bible
I got my own special way
Bit I know Jesus loves me
Maybe just a little bit more

I fall on my knees every Sunday
At Zerelda Lee's candy store

Well it's got to be a chocolate Jesus
Make me feel good inside
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Keep me satisfied

Well I don't want no Anna Zabba
Don't want no Almond Joy
There ain't nothing better
Suitable for this boy
Well it's the only thing
That can pick me up
Better than a cup of gold
See only a chocolate Jesus
Can satisfy my soul

(Solo)
When the weather gets rough
And it's whiskey in the shade
It's best to wrap your savior
Up in cellophane
He flows like the big muddy
But that's ok
Pour him over ice cream
For a nice parfait

Well it's got to be a chocolate Jesus
Good enough for me
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Good enough for me

Well it's got to be a chocolate Jesus
Make me feel good inside
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Keep me satisfied

[Chills]

Haha, Waits is the man!

[megisnotreal]

So this is the new year.
And i don't feel any different.
The clanking of crystal
Explosions off in the distance

So this is the new year
And I have no resolutions
For self assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions

So everybody put your best suit or dress on
Let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
Lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
As thirty dialouges bleed into one

I wish the world was flat like the old days
Then i could travel just by folding a map
No more airplanes, or speed trains, or freeways
There'd be no distance that could hold us back.

There'd be no distance that could hold us back

So this is the new year

[Angry Ewok]

People stared at the makeup on his face
Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace
The boy in the bright blue jeans
Jumped up on the stage
And "Lady Stardust" sang his songs
Of darkness and disgrace

And he was alright, the band was all together
Yes he was alright, the song went on forever
And he was awful nice
Really quite out of sight
And he sang all night long

Femme fatales emerged from shadows
To watch this creature fair
Boys stood upon their chairs
To make their point of view
I smiled sadly for a love I could not obey
"Lady Stardust" sang his songs
Of darkness and dismay

And he was alright, the band was all together
Yes he was alright, the song went on forever
And he was awful nice
Really quite paradise
And he sang all night long

Oh how I sighed when they asked if I knew his name

Though they was alright, the band was all together
Yes he was alright, and the song went on forever
He was awful nice
Really quite paradise
He sang all night long

[Mr. T.]

Half a Day

Caring and forgiving aren't the same
I can see the causes and assign the blame
As soon as I stop worrying I'm okay
And all this happens in half a day

But as soon as I start shaking I'm a mess
I can't contain these things under this stress
Seeing and believing aren't the same
When I see you I don't believe you were to blame
Not this time anyway

For how long do you tell yourself that you're moral
For as long as you can stay out of real trouble
That's why I don't think you should be condemned
But when I see you I won't believe you ever again

[Chills]

Half A Person


Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent six years on your trail
Six full years of my life on your trail

And if you have five seconds to spare
Then I'll tell you the story of my life :
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
I went to London and I
I booked myself in at the Y ... W.C.A.
I said : "I like it here - can I stay ?
I like it here - can I stay ?
Do you have a vacancy
For a Back-scrubber?"

She was left behind, and sour
And she wrote to me, equally dour
She said : "In the days when you were
Hopelessly poor
I just liked you more..."

And if you have five seconds to spare
Then I'll tell you the story of my life :
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
I went to London and I
I booked myself in at the Y ... W.C.A.
I said : "I like it here - can I stay ?
I like it here - can I stay ?
And do you have a vacancy
For a Back-scrubber ?"

Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent too long on your trail
Far too long
Chasing your tail
Oh ...

And if you have five seconds to spare
Then I'll tell you the story of my life :
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
That's the story of my life
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
The story of my life
That's the story of my life
That's the story of my life

[megisnotreal]

before i finish all these damn liners i've been working on, i think i'll sing you two songs, both to which i can't seem to stop listening.


let's get out of this country

Let's get out of this country
I'll admit I am bored with me
I drowned my sorrows and slept around
When not in body at least in mind
We'll find a cathedral city
You can convince me I am pretty

We'll pick berries and recline
Let's hit the road dear friend of mine
Wave goodbye to our thankless jobs
We'll drive for miles maybe never turn off
We'll find a cathedral city you can be handsome I'll be pretty

What does this city have to offer me
Everyone else thinks it's the bee's knees
What does this city have to offer me?
I just can't see

Let's get out of this country
I have been so unhappy
Smell the Jasmine my head was turned
I feel like getting confessional
We'll find a cathedral city you can convince me I am pretty

What does this city have to offer me
Everyone else thinks it's the bee's knees
What does this city have to offer me
I just can't see


if looks could kill

Tell me where it all went wrong
Maybe I can make it better
Tell me where it all went wrong
Don't you know that you really upset her
When you act like a man who is cross with every woman he's never had
If it's true looks could kill and you will be the first to make me mad
Then you'll have to go

Is this the kind of fate you could contemplate
A breakdown at my very sight
I promise hidden words of tenderness in every single line that I write
Still you act like a man who is cross with every woman he's never had
If it's true looks could kill and you will be the first to make me mad
Then you'll have to go
Maybe you'll have to go

Is it true looks can kill

[Chills]

Now the place is ringed with countless foes
Some of them may be deaf and dumb
No man, no woman knows
The hour that sorrow will come
In the dark I hear the night birds call
I can feel a lover's breath
I sleep in the kitchen with my feet in the hall
Sleep is like a temporary death


Bobby D.

[aMD]

Now in the laid-back California town of sunny San Rafael
Lived a girl named Pearly Sweetcake - you probably knew her well
She was stoned 15 of her 18 years, and her story was widely told
That she could smoke 'em faster than anyone could roll

Well, her legend finally reached New York, that Grove Street walk-up flat
Where dwelt the Calistoga Kid, a beatnik from the past
He'd been rollin' dope since time began, now he took a cultured toke
And said "Jim, I can roll 'em faster than any CHICK can smoke"

So a note gets sent to San Rafael for the championship of the world
The Kid demands a smoke-off; "Well bring him on!" says Pearl
"I'll grind his fingers off his hands! He'll roll until he drops!"
Says Calistog, "I'll smoke that chick till she blows up and pops".

So they rent out Yankee Stadium, and the word is quickly spread
Come one, come all, who walk or crawl, tickets just two lids a head
And from every town and hamlet, over land and sea they speed
The world's greatest dopers, with the world's greatest weed.

Hashishers from Morocco, hemp smokers from Peru
And the Shashniks from Bagun (who smoke the deadly Pu-ga-ru)
And those who call it "light of life"
And those that call it "boo".

See the dealers and their ladies, wearing turquoise lace and leather
See the narcos and the closet smokers, puffing all together
From the teenies who smoke legal, to the ones who've done some time
To the old man who smoked "reefer", back before it was a crime.

And the grand old House That Ruth Built is filled with the smokes and cries
Of fifty thousand screaming heads, all stoned out of their minds
And they play the national anthem, and the crowd lets out a roar
As the spotlight hits the Kid and Pearl, ready for their smoking war.

At a table piled up high with grass, as high as a mountain peak
Just tops and buds of the rarest flowers, not one stem branch or seed
I mean, Maui Wowie, Panama Red, Acapulco Gold
Kif from East Afghanistan, and that rare Alaska Cold

And there's sticks from Thailand, ganj from the island,
And Bangkok's blooming best
(and some of that wet imported shit
That capsized off Key West).

There's Oaxacan tops and Kenya bhang, and Riviera fleurs
And that rare Manhattan Silver, that grows down in the New York sewers.
And there's bubblin' ice cold lemonade, and sweet grapes by the bunches
And there's Hershey bars and Oreos (in case anybody gets the munches)

And the Calistoga Kid he smiles, And Pearly she just grins :-)
And the drums roll low, and the crowd yells "GO GO GO!!"
And the world's first smoke-off begins.

Well, the Kid he flicks his fingers once, and ZAP that first joint's rolled
Pearl takes one toke with her famous lungs, and WHOOSH that roach is cold
Then the Kid he rolls his super-bomb, that would paralyze a moose
And Pearl takes one mighty hit, and ... that bomb's defused

And then he rolls three in just ten seconds, and she smokes them up in nine
And everybody sits back and says "Hey... this just might take some time"

See the blur of flying fingers, see the red coal burning bright
As the night turns into mornin', and the mornin' fades to night
And the autumn turns to summer, and a whole damn YEAR is gone
And the two still sit, on that roach-filled stage, smokin', and rollin' on

With tremblin' hands he rolls his jays, with fingers blue and stiff
She coughs and stares with bloodshot gaze, and puffs through blistered lips
And as she reaches out her hand for another stick of gold
The Kid, he gasps, "Damn it, bitch! There's nothin' left to roll!"

"NOTHIN' LEFT TO ROLL!" screams Pearl. "IS THIS SOME TWISTED JOKE?"
"I DIDN'T COME HERE TO FUCK AROUND, MAN, I COME HERE TO SMOKE!"

And she reaches 'cross the table and grabs his bony sleeves
And crumbles his body between her hands, like dried and brittle leaves
Flicking out his teeth and bones like useless stems and seeds
And then she rolls him in a Zig-zag, and lights him like a roach
And the fastest man, with the fastest hands, goes up in a puff of smoke.

In the laid-back California town of sunny San Rafael
Lives a girl named Pearly Sweetcake - you probably know her well
She been stoned 21 of her 24 years, and her story is still widely told
How she still can smoke 'em faster than any dude can roll

While, off in New York City, on a street that has no name
There's the hands of the Calistoga Kid, in the Viper Hall of Fame
And underneath his fingers, there's a little golden scroll
That says

   "Beware of bein' the roller
   When there's nothin' left to roll".

[megisnotreal]

this is now in the running for my favorite songs of all time...

(yay for ani!)

i want somebody who sees the pointlessness
and still keeps their purpose in mind
i want somebody who has a tortured soul
some of the time
i want somebody who will either put out for me
or put me out of misery
or maybe just put it all to words
and make me go, you know
i never heard it put that way
make me say, what did you just say?

i want somebody who can hold my interest
hold it and never let it fall
someone who can flatten me with a kiss
that hits like a fist
or a sentence, that stops me like a brick wall
if you hear me talking
listen to what i'm not saying
if you hear me playing guitar
listen to what i'm not playing
and don't ask me to put words
to all the silences i wrote
don't ask me to put words
to all the spaces between notes
in fact if you have to ask, forget it
do and you'll regret it

i'm tired of being the interesting one
i'm tired of having fun for two
just lay yourself on the line
and i might lay myself down by you
but don't sit behind your eyes
and wait for me to surprise you
i want somebody who can make me
scream until it's funny
give me a run for my money
i want someone who can
twist me up in knots
tell me, for the woman who has everything
what have you got?
i want someone who's not afraid of me
or anyone else
in other words i want someone
who's not afraid of themself

do you think i'm asking too much?

[dragonboy]

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back after a message
bbout a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.

[aMD]

Nice one, db!

[sweatboard]

Wow!!!!!  I've never heard that, who sings it?  

[sweatboard]

Oh yeah, I have a computer.

a poem and song by Gil Scott-Heron,

[sweatboard]

Does anyone cover that?  That I should check out?

[aMD]

Staying on the revolution tip...


April 26th, 1992,
there was a riot on the streets,
tell me where were you?
You were sittin' home watchin' your TV,
while I was paticipatin' in some anarchy.

First spot we hit it was my liqour store.
I finally got all that alcohol I can't afford.
With red lights flashin' time to retire,
And then we turned that liquor store into a structure fire.

Next stop we hit it was the music shop,
It only took one brick to make that window drop.
Finally we got our own p.a.
Where do you think I got this guitar that you're hearing today?
Hey!

(call fire, respond mobil station.
alamidos in Anahiem,
its uhh flamin up good.
10-4 Alamidos in Anaheim)

Never doin no time

When we returned to the pad to unload everything,
It dawned on me that I need new home furnishings.
So once again we filled the van until it was full,
since that day my livin' room's been more comfortable.

Cause everybody in the hood has had it up to here,
It's getting harder and harder and harder each and every year.

Some kids went in a store with thier mother,
I saw her when she came out she was gettin some pampers.

They said it was for the black man,
they said it was for the mexican,
and not for the white man.

But if you look at the streets it wasn't about Rodney King,
It's bout this fucked up situation and these fucked up police.
It's about coming up and staying on top
and screamin' 187 on a mother fuckin' cop.
It's not written on the paper it's on the wall.
National guard??!
Smoke from all around,

bo! bo! bo!

(units, units be advised there is an attempt 211 to arrest now at 938 temple,
938 temple... 30 subjects with bags.. tryin to get inside the cb's house)

(as long as I'm alive, I'mma live illegal)

Let it burn, wanna let it burn,
wanna let it burn, wanna wanna let it burn

(I'm feelin' Sad and Blue)

Riots on the streets of Miami,
oh, Riots on the streets of Chicago,
oh, on the streets of Long Beach,
mmm, and San Francisco (Boise Idaho),
Riots on the streets of Kansas City
(Salt Lake, Hunnington Beach, CA),
Tuscalusa Alabama (Arcada Compton Mischigan),
Cleveland Ohio,
Fountain Valley (Texas, Barstow - Let's do this every year),
Paramount, Victorville (Twice a Year),
Eugene OR, Eureka CA (Let it burn, let it burn),
Hesperia (Oh, ya let it burn, wont'cha wont'cha let it burn),
Santa Barbara, Nevada, (let it burn)
Phoenix Arizona,
San Diego, Lakeland Florida, (let it burn)
fuckin... 29 Palms (wontcha let it burn)

any units assist 334 willow,
structure fire, and numerous subjects looting

10-15 to get rid of this looter..

10-4

[dragonboy]

Oh yeah, I have a computer.

;D

I have 2 versions of this, one on Small Talk At 125th & Lenox (which is a live poetry reading, just Gil & some guy playing the congas) & one on Pieces Of A Man, which has bass, drums & some lush flute.

Pieces Of A Man is a great album: