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Post by ARENA on Aug 9, 2019 8:04:20 GMT
What lyrics do you like or those that have a special meaning for you.
A lovestruck Romeo sang the streets of serenade Laying everybody low with a love song that he made Finds a streetlight, steps out of the shade Says something like, "You and me, babe, how about it?.....Dire Straits
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Post by aubrey on Aug 9, 2019 8:33:01 GMT
I'm jealous of the people the people I fall in love with Fall in love with I'm jealous of the people the people I try to be more like Try to be more like I'm even jealous of the people the people who hate me Hate more A Complete History of Sexual Jealousy Parts 17-24
(Momus)
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polly
Silver Surfer
Into each life some rain must fall. Longfellow
Posts: 177
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Post by polly on Aug 9, 2019 14:56:04 GMT
Some Enchanted Evening by Richard Rodgers.
I have Ezio Pinza singing it on a CD.
Some enchanted evening You may see a stranger, You may see a stranger across a crowded room, And somehow you know You'll know even then That somewhere you'll see her, again and again.
Some enchanted evening Someone may be laughin', You may hear her laughin' across a crowded room, And night after night As strange as it seems The sound of her laughter will sing in your dreams.
Who can explain it? Who can tell you why? Fools give you reasons, wise men never try.
Some enchanted evening When you find your true love, When you feel her call you across a crowded room, Then fly to her side And make her your own For, all through your life, you may dream all alone.
Once you have found her, never let her go. Once you have found her, never let her go!
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Aug 9, 2019 15:10:20 GMT
When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high And don't be afraid of the dark At the end of the storm, there's a golden sky And the sweet, silver song of a lark
Walk on through the wind Walk on through the rain Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on With hope in your hearts And you'll never walk alone You'll never walk alone
Walk on, walk on With hope in your hearts And you'll never walk alone You'll never walk alone
Sung by Judy Garland
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Post by aubrey on Aug 9, 2019 17:36:22 GMT
On the night of July 21st, 356 BC I, Erostratus, burned to the ground One of the wonders of the world The fabulous temple of Artemis Here in the great port of Ephesus I did it to get famous To thwart me The authorities stupidly forbade my name On pain of death Ever to be mentioned again The fools! That was my guarantee Of immortality Some tool in the 21st century Even as we speak is singing about me! And in your day I have many imitators and admirers My name endures, said Sartre "Like a black diamond"
(Momus again)
(It doesn't look it, but it's really quite catchy.)
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Post by aubrey on Aug 9, 2019 18:30:23 GMT
And this, the end of a long song about Primo Levi's death:
One last word of caution from the very rim of the parapet. One last word in remembrance… we must learn not to forget.
(Peter Hammill)
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Post by aubrey on Aug 9, 2019 19:19:28 GMT
I once saw Momus perform this for a documentary about tropical diseases; it was an old song, recorded before he lost an eye to an amoeba infection:
Tell me that you'll love me 'til the end
And tell me you'll be there If I ever find I've only got one kidney left And tell me you'll be there When I've only got one eye And say that you'll be there to care for me When a wheelchair is my chair You'll be there upon the day I die
Before:
After:
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Post by aubrey on Aug 9, 2019 22:20:33 GMT
West is where all days will someday end; Where the colours turn from grey to gold, And you can be with the friends. And light flakes the golden clouds above all; West is Mike and Susie, West is where I love. There we shall spend our final days of our lives; Tell the same old stories: yeah well, At least we tried. Into the West, smiles on our faces, we'll go; Oh, yes, and our apologies to those Who'll never really know the way. We're refugees, walking away from the life That we've known and loved; Nothing to do or say, nowhere to stay; Now we are alone. We're refugees, carrying all we own In brown bags, tied up with string; Nothing to think, it doesn't mean a thing, But we'll be happy on our own. West is Mike and Susie; West is where I love,
West is refugees' home.
(Van der Graff Generator)
Susie is Susan Penhaligon - she and Hammill shared a flat in the 60s - and later he wrote another song, Easy to Slip Away, with the lines:
Susie, I guess you're on your way to be a star, But I don't know where you are, the only time I seem To see you is on T.V. It's so easy just to slip away...
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Post by ARENA on Aug 10, 2019 7:42:07 GMT
A long time ago came a man on a track Walking thirty miles with a sack on his back And he put down his load where he thought it was the best Made a home in the wilderness He built a cabin and a winter store And he ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore And the other travellers came walking down the track And they never went further, no, they never went back Then came the churches, then came the schools Then came the lawyers, then came the rules Then came the trains and the trucks with their load And the dirty old track was the Telegraph Road Then came the mines, then came the ore Then there was the hard times, then there was a war Telegraph sang a song about the world outside Telegraph Road got so deep and so wide........Dire Straits
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polly
Silver Surfer
Into each life some rain must fall. Longfellow
Posts: 177
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Post by polly on Aug 10, 2019 21:42:19 GMT
The Way You Look Tonight by Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern :
Some day, when I'm awfully low, When the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you And the way you look tonight.
Oh but you're lovely, with your smile so warm And your cheeks so soft, There is nothing for me but to love you, Just the way you look tonight.
With each word your tenderness grows, Tearing my fear apart, And that laugh that wrinkles your nose Touches my foolish heart.
Lovely, Never, ever change, Keep that breathless charm, Won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you, just the way you look tonight.
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Post by aubrey on Aug 12, 2019 18:29:54 GMT
Another Momus song, inspired by the death of a friend:
The house of the dead becomes more and more real to me As the list of dead friends on my Palm increases Though I don't believe in the permanent soul I can't help asking, "But where do they go?" And the love I invest In my lovers deceased Drains my love for those who exist At an actual and earthly address
I update the database Daily from my laptop Using new vaporware: Palm Deathtop
I'm starting to wish I could see my old friends again At the glamorous party to which they've departed Well, what do you know? I'm apparently invited Look there, your name is also on the list Sooner or later, we'll all be there I guess All already no longer exist Together with our friends again
Let's update the database Daily from our laptops Using new vaporware: Palm Deathtop
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Post by aubrey on Aug 13, 2019 8:18:01 GMT
The Fall (Mark E Smith), English Scheme:
O'er grassy dale, and lowland scene Come see, come hear, the English Scheme. The lower-class, want brass Bad chests, scrounge fags.
The clever ones tend to emigrate Like your psychotic big brother, who left home For jobs in Holland, Munich, Rome He's thick but he struck it rich, switch
The commune crap, camp bop, middle class, flip-flop Guess that's why they end up in bands He's the freak creep in us all He's the freak creep in us all Condescends to black men Very nice to them
They talk of Chile while driving through Haslingden You got sixty hour weeks, and stone toilet back-gardens Peter Cook's jokes, bad dope, Check shirts, fancy groups Point their fingers at America
Down pokey quaint streets in Cambridge Cycle our distant spastic heritage It's a gay red, roundhead Army career, bread head If we were smart we'd emigrate
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polly
Silver Surfer
Into each life some rain must fall. Longfellow
Posts: 177
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Post by polly on Aug 18, 2019 13:52:56 GMT
Every Time We Say Goodbye - written by Cole Porter and sung by Ella Fitzgerald :
Everytime we say goodbye, I die a little, Everytime we say goodbye, I wonder why a little, Why the Gods above me, who must be in the know. Think so little of me, they allow you to go.
When you're near, there's such an air of spring about it, I can hear a lark somewhere, begin to sing about it, There's no love song finer, but how strange the change from major to minor, Everytime we say goodbye.
When you're near, there's such an air of spring about it, I can hear a lark somewhere, begin to sing about it, There's no love song finer, but how strange the change from major to minor, Everytime we say goodbye.
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Post by aubrey on Aug 21, 2019 8:36:26 GMT
This one has always been important to me (for the past 40-odd years anyway):
Repetition
Right, noise...
We're gonna get real speedy We're gonna wear black all the time You're gonna make it on your own.
Cos we dig Cos we dig We dig We dig repetition We dig repetition We've repetition in the music And we're never going to lose it.
All you daughters and sons who are sick of fancy music We dig repetition Repetition on the drums and we're never going to lose it.
This is the three R's The three R's: Repetition, Repetition, Repetition
Oh mental hospitals Oh mental hospitals They put electrodes in your brain And you're never the same You don't dig repetition You don't love repetition
Repetition in the music and we're never going to lose it
President Carter loves repetition Chairman Mao he dug repetition
Repetition in China Repetition in America Repetition in West Germany Simultaneous suicides
We dig it, we dig it, we dig it, we dig it
Repetition, repetition, repetition Repetition, repetition, Regal Zonophone
There is no hesitation This is your situation Continue a blank generation Blank generation Same old blank generation Groovy blank generation Swinging blank generation
Repetition, repetition, repetition....
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Post by aubrey on Sept 15, 2019 15:43:24 GMT
Two songs about the Falklands War, one largely for and one largely against; but both approach the subject obliquely - one is a fictional discussion and one is a story - and neither of them even mention the war.
Shipbuilding
Is it worth it? A new winter coat and shoes for the wife And a bicycle on the boy's birthday. It's just a rumour that was spread around town By the women and children, soon we'll be shipbuilding
Well I ask you The boy said 'Dad, they're going to take me to task But I'll be home by Christmas. It's just a rumour that was spread around town Somebody said that someone got filled in For saying that people get killed in The results of their shipbuilding. With all the will in the world Diving for dear life When we could be diving for pearls.
It's just a rumour that was spread around town A telegram for a picture postcard Within weeks they'll be reopening the shipyard And notifying the next of kin Once again.
It's all we're skilled in We will be shipbuilding. With all the will in the world Diving for dear life When we could be diving for pearls.
Written by Elvis Costello, but it's generally accepted that the definitive version is by Robert Wyatt:
The other one is by The Fall, and the title is a play on Lord Haw Haw and Mark E Smith's own name:
Marquis Cha-Cha
He can never go home He can never go home Stranded in South America Nothing to go home for Just another Brit in the bar Hernandez Fiendish comes over to me Offers a job as broadcaster That's how I came to be Marquis Cha Cha
He can never go home But is O.K. by him The generals have many enemies And them I single out What does it concern me about? Good riddance to my native country It never did a thing for me It's a better life here And I am not a traitor Marquis Cha Cha
He can never go home Now here is his show Hey you people over there And those in sea and air It has been theirs for years It is a good life here Football and beer much superior Gringo gets cheap servant staff Low tax and a dusky wife
Intelligentsia Although your radio has been jammed I heard talk about by chance You educated kids know what you're on about You've been oppressed for years I hear Rosso-Rosso over there And you have cha-cha clubs You should hear the rosso-rosso stuff I understand you I'm from a town called Mmmm Marquis Cha Cha
He can never go home He can never go home One point is made here The scourge of rosso-rosso So what if I do propaganda? After a few steins I feel better But that broken down fan They never fix it, them dumb Latins There's a bayonet beside my head There's a guard in the annex Marquis Cha Cha
He never did go home
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