Author Topic: The Lyrics thread  (Read 84996 times)

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Offline linchpin

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #30 on: June 17, 2005, 11:29:00 AM »
Ninnghizhidda - open my eyes
Ninnghizhidda - hear my cries
Plumed serpent of the deep
Plumed serpent of the gate
I command - come before me
I command - bring the key
Rise from the depths
See the fire in my wand

Ia iak sakkakh iak sakkakth
Ia shaxul



I call forth the god pazuzu
I call forth the lord of plague
I am of the lost
Creatures of spawn of hate
Rejoice in the heaving earth
Praise the ripping sky
Rise spread disease
Consume their puny souls

Ia iak sakkakh iak sakkakth
Ia shaxul
Ia kingu ia cthulu ia azbul
Ia azabua



Ride the wings of death...
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »
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Offline Anonymous

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #31 on: June 27, 2005, 01:00:00 PM »
This day forward to vanquish boldly
The crucifixion is now my lovely
This day forward and this way only
The crucifixion is now my lovely

I love the sound of breaking skulls
That limousine that pulls
Over the heads of all
The people that pay to see me

This day never with hesitating
Teach children to worship Satan
Warping the mind of generation
Teach children to worship Satan
The Crucifixion is now

Teach children to worship Satan
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Froderik

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #32 on: July 31, 2005, 04:00:00 PM »
FKA your other post inspired me to post this. It's by Gil Scott-Heron

(this post was made by webcrawler and moved here by me)


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.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Anonymous

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #33 on: July 31, 2005, 06:40:00 PM »
He looked a lot like Che Guevara, drove a diesel van
Kept his gun in quiet seclusion, such a humble man
The only survivor of the National People's Gang
Panic in Detroit, I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone
Panic in Detroit

He laughed at accidental sirens that broke the evening gloom
The police had warned of repercussions
They followed none too soon
A trickle of strangers were all that were left alive
Panic in Detroit, I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone
Panic in Detroit

Putting on some clothes I made my way to school
And I found my teacher crouching in his overalls
I screamed and ran to smash my favourite slot machine
And jumped the silent cars that slept at traffic lights

Having scored a trillion dollars, made a run back home
Found him slumped across the table.  A gun and me alone
I ran to the window.  Looked for a plane or two
Panic in Detroit.  He'd left me an autograph
"Let me collect dust."  I wish someone would phone
Panic in Detroit
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Anonymous

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #34 on: July 31, 2005, 07:24:00 PM »
He's got the on the wall of his room
Two bottles of tequila, three cats and a broom
He's got an 18-year-old angel and she's all dressed in black
He's got 15 nickles [bindles?] of cocaine tied up in a sack
And this here's a government experiment and we're driving like Hell
To give some cowboys some Acid and to stay in motels
We're going to eat up some wide open spaces
Like it was a cruise on the Nile
Take the hands off the clock, we're going to be here a while
And I am the on the wall of the motel room
And cowboys on acid are like Egyptian cartoons
And no one ever conquered Wyoming from the left or from the right
But you can stay in motel rooms and stay up all night
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Anonymous

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #35 on: July 31, 2005, 07:25:00 PM »
He's got the Eye of Fatima on the wall of his room

Two bottles of tequila, three cats and a broom

He's got an 18-year-old angel and she's all dressed in black

He's got 32 bindles of cocaine tied up in a sack

And this here's a government experiment and we're driving like Hell

To give some cowboys some Acid and to stay in motels

We're going to eat up some wide open spaces

Like it was a cruise on the Nile

Take the hands off the clock, we're going to be here a while

And I am the Eye of Fatima on the wall of the motel room

And cowboys on acid are like Egyptian cartoons

And no one ever conquered Wyoming from the left or from the right

But you can stay in motel rooms and stay up all night
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Anonymous

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #36 on: August 10, 2005, 02:19:00 AM »
My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
Make promises by the hours,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can't buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she does not bother,
She knows too much to argue or to judge.

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers' nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Anonymous

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #37 on: August 13, 2005, 05:46:00 PM »
Restless eyes close, maybe it'll go away
Please rest tomorrow, bring a satisfying day
The restless urge of love that's worth the burning for
Surely it's that one consuming love to give you more
Any thought could be the beginning of the brand new tangled web you're spinning
Anyone could be a brand new love
Any tie that holds can be broken, tear your bitter world to the open
Anyone could be a brand new love
You won't be the first, your twisted change is normal
Gossip dirt, whispered to the nodding head
Thrilled you fell apart, instead of them
But they will
Any hope for love can be killed
If you need a different face, it's definitely time to destroy this place
Any thought could be the beginning of the brand new tangled web you're spinning
Anyone could be a brand new love
Follow what you feel, you alone decide what's real
Anyone can be a brand new love
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Antigen

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #38 on: August 14, 2005, 06:08:00 PM »
Trusted, Ben Folds
Lyrics View
Trusted

It's funny I know
But I'm disappointed in you
I thought you could read my mind
But I came home early
And saw that a drawer had been opened
Looks like you've been reading my diary instead

How does it feel to realize
You're all alone behind your eyes
It seems to me if you can't trust
You can't be trusted

Caught in a dream
Picking up astral signals
Some of them psychic
You better watch what you think
Happens to be that everybody else's dreams
Are Freudian clues
You'd better watch what you dream

You wanna see the other side
What's going on behind the eyes
Still it seems if you can't trust
You can't be trusted

Oh, no no no
No no no
No no no

Didn't you know we're as close as we can be?

The sun's coming up
She's pulling all the blankets over
Curled in a ball
Like she's hiding from me and
That's when I know
She's gonna be pissed when she wakes up
For terrible things I did
To her in her dreams

You wanna see the other side
What's going on behind the eyes
Still it seems if you can't trust
You can't be trusted

Oh, no no no
No no no
No no no

Didn't you know we're as close as we can be?
Hello?
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »
"Don\'t let the past remind us of what we are not now."
~ Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Sweet Judy Blue Eyes

Offline Froderik

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« Reply #39 on: August 16, 2005, 01:12:00 AM »
Well, now, there's two, there's two trains running
Well, they ain't never, no, going my way
Well, now, one run at midnight and the other one,
running just 'fore day,
it's running just 'fore day,
it's running just 'fore day
Oh Lord. sure 'nough they is
Oh well
Mm mm, ho ho ho, somebody help me, ho, with these blues
Well, now, she's the one I'm loving, she's the one
I do hate to lose,
I do hate to lose,
I do hate to lose
Oh Lord, sure 'nough I do
Oh well
I been crazy; yes, I been a fool, I been crazy, oh, all of my life
Well I done fell in love with a,
with another man's wife,
with another man's wife,
with another man's wife
Oh Lord, sure 'nough I done
Oh well
Lord, she's so long and tall, till she weep like a willow tree
Well, now, they say she's no good, but she's all right,
she's all right with me,
she's all right, she's all right,
she's all right, she's all right
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #40 on: September 03, 2005, 03:10:00 PM »
I'm not the man from outer space
I'm just a boy without a place
It doesn't bother me
I'm going to find me another way
I'm gonna find and count my change
And get it onski

But out on the road
I'm gonna to roll into your own room
And set a bad example for you
That's what you say
It's faroutski

So many roads in life to go
They all get me nowhere anyway
Nowhere
There's nowhere to go
Yeah, if you wanna break away
If you wanna find a face
It's farout

Yeah, I'm a fucking stranger in my house
A fucking in my bed
A fucking in my head
It's farout
Yeah

Baby I'm not the type to cry
Baby I'm not so hard to follow
gonna tell you why
slowdownski

But out on the road
I'm gonna to roll into your own room
And set a bad example for you
That's what you say
It's farout, faroutski
I'm not the boy without a place
I'm just the man from outer space
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Anonymous

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #41 on: September 14, 2005, 04:53:00 PM »
Something about the way you taste
Makes me want to clear my throat
There?s a magic to your movements
That really gets my goat
I looked for silver linings
But you?re rotten to the core
I?ve had just about all I can take
You know I can?t take it no more
Got a gut feeling
I found out a long time ago
Of your ability to torment
Then you took your tongs of love
And stripped away my garment
Got a gut feeling

Slap your mammy down
Slap your pappy down again
Oh move it up and down now
Oh move it all around now
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline webcrawler

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The Lyrics thread
« Reply #42 on: September 18, 2005, 04:04:00 AM »
You know today the church is in a terrible state. the bucks just arent rollin in like they used to. and when the bucks don?t come in, the church comes up with a new gimmick to make you spend to
Heaven.

Now I know you don?t know what I?m talking about, but what the fuck. but anyway, listen to this ladies and gentlemen, when the church wants to get your money they remind you about hell. (whoo-ho
-ha-ha)

If you commit a sin you?re gonna go to hell. (oui-oui)

Well let me give you an example, this boy over here;

Tell em about it brother zappa.

Sometimes people say: that if you fuck somebody (oh lord) it?s a sin, (oui-oui) this may or may not be true.

(testify)

This boy not only fucked somebody with his organ, but he also fucked a girl with a guitar, with an umbrella, with a zuchinni, with a shoe, with an enema bag . . .

What else did you do?
A vibrato bar.
A vibrato bar!

Some people would say this is a sin. and if you sin you?re gonna go to hell.

Well ladies and gentlemen:
There ain?t no hell. (oui)
There is no such thing as hell. (oui)
There is no hell, there is only france! (oui-oui)
Oui, oui
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »
am looking for people who survived Straight in Plymouth, Michigan. I miss a lot of people there and wonder what happened and would like to stay in touch.

Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #43 on: September 21, 2005, 11:21:00 PM »
Alright Now!
Won't you listen?

When I first met you, didn't realize,
I can't forget you or your surprise
You introduced me to my mind
And left me (watching/wanting) you and your kind. Oh yeah

I love you. Oh, you know it.

My life was empty, forever on a down,
Until you took me, showed me around
My life is free now, my life is (clear / hemp)
I love you sweet leaf though you can't hear
Oh yeah

Come on now - try it out!

Straight people don't know what you're about,
They put you down and shut you out
You gave to me a new belief,
And soon the world will love you, sweet leaf
Oh yeah baby

Come on now! Oh yeah!
Try me out baby!
Alright! Oh yeah-ah!
I want you part of this sweet leaf!
Oh yeah!
Alright, yeah, yeah, yeah, oh try me out
I love ya sweet leaf, oh
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #44 on: September 21, 2005, 11:23:00 PM »
:smokin:

Sweet Leaf!
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »