All I really had was a suitcase and my drums. So I took them up to Seattle and hoped it would work.
quote by Dave Grohl
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Related quotes
In January of 1995, my family and I moved to Seattle. Pearl Jam did the first of their live radio broadcasts, Monkey Wrench Radio, along with many other Seattle musicians.
quote by Jack Irons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jonny
On the night of april the 14th
A little girl walked to new york, new york
Her best friend jonny said
Itd be impossible cause
Seattle is too far away from new york, new york
Seattle is too far away from new york, new york
She only talked to jonny
Talked to him that night
Only talked to jonny
Then she walked to new york
It happened eight years ago today
Im the little girl walked to new york, new york
My best friend jonny said
Itd be impossible cause
Seattle is too far away from new york, new york
Seattle is too far away from new york, new york
Chorus:
She only talked to jonny
Talked to him that night
Only talked to jonny
She only talked to jonny
Talked to him that night
Only talked to jonny
Then she walked to new york
It was hard for them that I was gone
Only jonny knew why I fled to new york
He was my best friend jonny yeah
I know I loved him cause
Seattle is too far from new york, new york
Seattle is too far from new york, new york
Chorus
Oh jonny...
song performed by by Wonderwall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The worst gift that I ever gave a girl was a suitcase for Christmas. As in, 'I can't think of anything to give you, but here's a new suitcase.' Afterward, I was like, 'What were you thinking, idiot?'
quote by Jensen Ackles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Carnival
Low club light
Lips sealed tight
Expose fade away
Observer write it all down
For me
No soundtrack
No fightback
Noise annoys
Dark subject
All the underworld
Making plans for us
We are open wide
Need someone to stand up
Up up
Lovers
Shelter in their suitcase
Waiters
Shelter in their suitcase
Stangers
Shelter in their suitcase
Sailor talk to soldier
Sailor
Low club light
Lips sealed tight
Expose fade away
Observer write it all down
For me
Ill try
Ill spy
I would not buy
A car from you
They make uniforms
Something to call style
We need to stand up
We are open wide-ide-ide
Lovers
Shelter in their suitcase
Waiters
Shelter in their suitcase
Strangers
Shelter in their suitcase
Soldier talk to sailer
Soldier
All the underworld
Making plans for us
We are open wide
Need someone to stand up
Up up
Lovers
Shelter in their suitcase
Waiters
Shelter in their suitcase
Strangers
Shelter in their suitcase
Soldier talk to sailer
Soldier
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
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If I'm going away for longer than a week I take a suitcase and check it in but I'm good at packing light and quick - years of modelling, travelling and living out of a suitcase has trained me well.
quote by Lisa Snowdon
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All I ever wanted to do was play the drums; I felt good about myself when I played the drums. So I worked anywhere and everywhere I could lug my drums in.
quote by Max Weinberg
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The Drums of Battersea
They can’t hear in West o’ London, where the worst dine with the best—
Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they can’t hear in London West—
Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that be—
They can’t hear the warning thunder of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Misery—
Beating from the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.
Where the hearses hurry ever, and where man lives like a beast,
They can feel the war-drums beating—men of Hell! and London East.
And the far-off foreign farmers, fighting fiercely to be free,
Found new courage in the echo of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Beating for the free—
Beating on the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.
And the drummers! Ah! the drummers!—stern and haggard men are those
Standing grimly at their meetings; and their washed and mended clothes
Speak of worn-out wives behind them and of grinding poverty—
But the English of the English beat the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of agony—
The big bruised heart of England’s in the Drums of Battersea.
Where in fields slave Englishwomen, Oh! the sound of drums is there:
I have heard it in the laughter of the nights of Leicester Square—
Sailing southward with the summer, London but a dream to me,
Still I feel the distant thunder of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Liberty—
Rolling round the English world—the Drums of Battersea.
Oh! I heard them in the Queen’s Hall—aye! and London heard that night—
While we formed up round the leaders while they struck one blow for right!
And the old strength, that old fire, that I thought was dead in me,
Blazed up fiercely at the beating of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
They beat for victory—
When above the roar of Jingoes rolled the Drums of Battersea.
And where’er my feet may wander, and howe’er I lay my head,
I shall hear them while I’m dreaming—I shall hear them when I’m dead!
For they beat for men and women, beat for Christ, and you and me:
There is hope and there is terror in the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of destiny—
There’s hope!—there’s hope for England in the Drums of Battersea.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Man In A Suitcase
Id invite you back to my place
Its only mine because it holds my suitcase
It looks home to me alright
But its a hundred miles from yesterday night
Must I be the man in a suitcase
Is it me, the man with the strangers face
Another key for my collection
For security I race for my connection
Bird in a flying cage youll never get to know me well
The worlds my oyster a hotel rooms a prison cell
Must I be the man in a suitcase
Is it me, the man with the strangers face
Id invite you back to my place
Its only mine because it hold my suitcase
It looks like home to me alright
But its a hundred miles from yesterday night
song performed by by Police
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Wink For Me
Wink for me today
For I know I’m full of life
Wink when you work
I’ll be reminded of my work
Wink when entering the toilet
I’ll know others are half attached
Wink when you eat
I’ll buy my own lunch
Wink when kissing
I’ll miss my wife more
While driving still wink
I’ll work and buy my own
When you die please wink
I’ll prepare my suitcase for take off
Please wink for me
poem by Lawrence s. Makola
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The tempo is the suitcase. If the suitcase is too small, everything is completely wrinkled. If the tempo is too fast, everything becomes so scrambled you can't understand it.
quote by Daniel Barenboim
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D Is For Drums
JL: Hey John.
JF: Oh, hey John.
JL: What's going on?
JF: Man, I'm confused.
JL: You're confused? Why?
JF: I'm no good at remembering stuff.
JL: Really?
JF: Yeah.
JL: Like what?
JF: I can't remember what 'D' is for.
JL: You can't remember what 'D' is for?
JF: I think it's for an instrument that you play in a band.
JL: I'm surprised you can't remember what 'D' is for.
JF: I can't remember there's too much noise.
JL: Put your Thinking Cap on John, I'll give you a hint.
JF: See, I can't find my Thinking Cap.I think it's lost.
JL: John, come on, tell me. 'D' is for what?
JF: 'D' is for something that you play with sticks.
JL: That's right, that's right. You're getting close.
JF: 'D' is for drums!
Both: Yes, 'D' is for drums!
'D' is for drums!
Yes, 'D' is for drums!
JL: Well, I'm glad we got that straight.
JF: Hey John.
JL: Yeah.
JF: I need some juice.
JL: I got some juice.
JF: Well, let's go to your house.
JL: Okay, I'll meet you over there.
JF: Okay.
'D' is for drums! 'D' is for drums!
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hell Gets You Nowhere
Stood by the roadside late at night
Hell came along and offered me a ride
I thought about it the I said no
I asked my suitcase and my suitcase said lets go
And the bass said
Hell gets you nowhere
That I swear
Went to church sunday without my mum
Laughed about my neighbour who sat on my chewinggum
He said the lord would punish me
And hells the right place for me to be
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
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Another Suitcase In Another Hall
Eva: I don't expect my love affairs to last for long
Never fool myself that my dreams will come true
Being used to trouble I anticipate it
But all the same I hate it
Wouldn't you
So what happens now (another suitcase in another hall)
So what happens now (take your picture off another wall)
Where am I going to (you'll get by you always have before)
Where am I going to
Time and time again I've said that I don't care
That I'm immune to gloom that I'm hard through and through
But everytime it matters all my words desert me
So anyone can hurt me
And they do
So what happens now (another suitcase in another hall)
So what happens now (take your picture off another wall)
Where am I going to (you'll get by you always have before)
Where am I going to
Call in three months time and I'll be fine I know
Well maybe not that fine but I'll survive anyhow
I won't recall the names and places of each sad occasion
But that's no consolation
Here and now
So what happens now (another suitcase in another hall)
So what happens now (take your picture off another wall)
Where am I going to (you'll get by you always have before)
Where am I going to
Photographer: Don't ask anymore
song performed by by Madonna from Evita Soundtrack (Part 1)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Letter 'Work' Song
Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.
Buddy Bee Anthony
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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Rain
In Seattle one could count on it!
Barometric pressure falling daily...
With the probalbility of rain-
Oft' times morphing into a steady drizzle
And grayer than gray skies;
In those days, depressive illness ran rife...
Much of it was linked to the bleak weather-
That chilly precipitation that keeps Washington evergreen;
That same miserable rain fell
The day my father died;
Some ask me today, if, i miss Seattle
And, of course, i reply: 'yes'
But, i do not miss that infernal rainfall
That always chilled me to the bone...
That literally dumped from the heavens
On May 7-
Leaving me drenched and oh so alone;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Traveling Dream
I am packing to go to the airport
but somehow I am never packed.
I keep remembering more things
I keep forgetting.
Secretly the clock is bolting
forward ten minutes at a click
instead of one. Each time
I look away, it jumps.
Now I remember I have to find
the cats. I have four cats
even when I am asleep.
One is on the bed and I slip
her into the suitcase.
One is under the sofa. I
drag him out. But the tabby
in the suitcase has vanished.
Now my tickets have run away.
Maybe the cat has my tickets.
I can only find one cat.
My purse has gone into hiding.
Now it is time to get packed.
I take the suitcase down.
There is a cat in it but no clothes.
My tickets are floating in the bath
tub full of water. I dry them.
One cat is in my purse
but my wallet has dissolved.
The tickets are still dripping.
I look at the clock as it leaps
forward and see I have missed
my plane. My bed is gone now.
There is one cat the size of a sofa.
poem by Marge Piercy
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For me, coming to work every day has turned out to be exactly what I hoped it would be.
quote by Kevin Spacey
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As Much As Always
I hoped I wouldnt miss you long
But I still cant believe youre gone
And I still miss you just as much as always
I hoped Id get you off my mind
Its been a long time but I find
That I still think of you as much as always
As much as always, as much as always
Just as much as always
As much as always just as much as always
I still miss you, still think of you
Just as much as always, as much as always
Just as much as always
I still want you, still need you
Just as much as always
I hoped that Id find someone else
But theres too much of you still left
And I still love you , just as much as always
I hoped that Id forget your touch
But I still want it just as much
And I still need it just as much as always
As much as always, as much as always
Just as much as always
As much as always, just as much as always
I still miss you, still think of you
Just as much as always
As much as always, just as much as always
I still love you, oh I do love you
Just as much as always
As much as always, as much as always
I still love you, still want you, just as much as always
As much as always, just as much as always
I still need you still love you
Just as much as always
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So now I don't have time to practice drums. It's been five years since I've touched the drums.
Payment
A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.
I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.
I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.
Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’
I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
O how I
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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