Whar is your favourite song lyric?
Posted by: erik scothron on 14 February 2006
Not necessarily your favourite song but the best lyric as poetry say, something that can be enjoyed on it's own without music.
To kick off: The year of the cat - by Al Stewart
On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre
Contemplating a crime
She comes out of the sun in a silk dress
running like a watercolour in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations
She'll just tell you that she came
In the year of the cat
She doesn't give you time for questions
As she locks up your arm in hers
And you follow
'till your sense of which direction
Completely disappears
By the blue tiled walls
near the market stalls
There's a hidden door she leads you to
These days, she says,
I feel my life Just like a river running thru
The year of the cat
Well, she looks at you so cooly
And her eyes shine like the moon in the sea
She comes in incense and patchouli
So you take her, to find what's waiting inside
The year of the cat
Well, morning comes and you're still with her
And the bus and the tourists are gone
And you've thrown away the choice
and lost your ticket
So you have to stay on
But the drum-beat strains of the night remain
In the rhythm of the new-born day
You know sometime you're bound to leave her
But for now you're going to stay
In the year of the cat
Posted on: 07 March 2006 by Gianluigi Mazzorana
There's an old song by Everything but the girl.
"Old friends".
Posted on: 08 March 2006 by Gianluigi Mazzorana
This song remind me the old times in Denmark.
When i did understand there was no way out but leaving.
Old love songs are made of this, are they?
Regarding Denmark.................Nime!
Where are you?
Cheers
Gianluigi
Posted on: 09 March 2006 by Jimmy Jazz
music is my saviour
I was maimed by rock n roll
I was maimed by rock n roll
I was tamed by rock n roll
I got my name from rock n roll
Posted on: 11 March 2006 by Wolf
Heatwaves on the runway
as the wheels set down
he takes his baggage off the carousel
he takes a taxi into town
taxi schools–yellow fishes
Jonah in a ticking whale
caught up at the lights in the fishnet windows
of Bloomingdale's
watchin those high fashion girls skinny black models with raven curls
beauty parlor blondes with credit card eyes
looking for the chic and the fancy to buy
He opens up his suitcase
in the continetal suite
and people twenty stories down
colored currents in the street
a helicopter lands on the Pan Am roof
like a dragonfly on a tomb
and business men in button downs
press into conference rooms
Batallions of paper-minded males
talking commodities and sales
while at home their paper wives
and their paper kids
paper the walls to keep their gut reactions hid
Yellow checkers for the kitchen
climbing ivy for the bath
she is lost in House and Gardens
he's caught up in chiefs of staff
he drifts off into the memory
of the way she looked in school
with her body oiled and shining
at the public swimming pool
Shining hair and shining skin
shining as she reeled him in
to tell him like she did today
just what he could do with Harry's House
and Harry's take home pay.
Posted on: 14 April 2006 by Gianluigi Mazzorana
Peter Murphy
A Strange Kind of Love
A strange kind of love
A strange kind of feeling
Swims through your eyes
And like the doors
To a wide vast dominion
They open to your prize
This is no terror ground
Or place for the rage
No broken hearts
White wash lies
Just a taste for the truth
Perfect taste choice and meaning
A look into your eyes
Blind to the gemstone alone
A smile from a frown circles round
Should he stay or should he go
Let him shout a rage so strong
A rage that knows no right or wrong
And take a little piece of you
There is no middle ground
Or that's how it seems
For us to walk or to take
Instead we tumble down
Either side left or right
To love or to hate
Posted on: 14 April 2006 by thirty three and a third
Working on a sex farm
Trying to raise some hard love
Getting out my pitch fork
And poking your hay.
Scratching in your henhouse
Sniffing at your feedbag
Slipping out your back door
I'm leaving my spray.
Sex farm woman
I'm gonna mow you down
Sex farm woman
I'll rake and mow you down.
Sex farm woman
Don't you see my silo risin' high.
Working on a sex farm
Hosing down your barn door
Bothering your livestock
They know what I need.
Working up a hot sweat
I'm scratching in your pea patch
Plowing through your bean field
Planting my seed.
Sex farm woman
I'll be your hired hand
Sex farm woman
I'll let my offer stand
Sex farm woman
Don't you feel my tractor rumbling by
By - by - byyyy.
Sex Farm by Spinal Tap

Posted on: 15 April 2006 by Guido Fawkes
I'm filling up at Rothersthorpe North
(Good girl has broken my heart).
She took off with a youth from Rothersthorpe South
Now she's keeping two chevrons apart.
Keeping two chevrons apart,
Yes she's keeping two chevrons apart.
They say "Plenty more fish"
I say "Amoco Cadiz"
She's keeping two chevrons apart
I know of no other song that even mentions Rothersthorpe in Northamptonshire, even though it has the first stretch of motorway (Rothersthorpe Services being J15a on the M1) to have chevrons mysteriously appear on it followed by a sign saying "Tiredness can kill - take a break" and is thus worthy of place in history - surely there have been few events more strange (far more significant than corn circles IMHO).
Posted on: 16 April 2006 by Guido Fawkes
They came for Dani Behr and I said she's over there, behind the wardrobe
They came for Eamon Holmes and i think i'm right in saying I applauded
Too many psycopaths, not enough cycle-paths